The Royal Wedding

          Did you wake up this morning? Did you go online or turn on your TV? Then you saw some kind of story about the Royal Wedding. Yahoo.com is littered with stories about it from their first kiss, to some little frowning girl in a photo. I have one question for you about the Royal Wedding. WHO THE FUCK CARES!?!?
          Since when do we care so much about a couple of limey Brits? It's not just today either. There were stories leading up to the wedding and I'm sure there will be more for weeks to come. I just don't understand why we are giving it so much coverage. News stations sent reporters to the U.K. to cover it live for crying out loud. WHY? Who really cares who the next Queen of England is going to be? She doesn't do anything anyway. She just waves her old ass hand and walks around. So is anyone really interested who the next useless Queen is? Not me.
          I'm sure it was an amazing ceremony. I'm sure everyone had a wonderful time. I'm just not sure it should have been given this much attention. And I realize that it's a Royal wedding and they are our allies and all that jazz. I just don't care that much about British people or weddings. Unless I'm in the wedding or it's someone I know. The Royal wedding might have been intriguing to you and that's your prerogative. You're probably the kind of person that asks to see the dessert menu, if you know what I mean.
          This was a short one, because it's Friday and I'm hungover. I saw all the stories about wedding and felt compelled to share my opinion on the matter. Feel free to leave yours in a comment. A better news story would have been the homeless guy giving Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches after the ceremony!

You Can't Avoid Boyd

Barack’s an American Citizen…Whoopee-dee-doo

            The big news on Wednesday was how Barack Obama provided a copy of his birth certificate to put an end to the ongoing rumors of Obama not being a natural born citizen of the US .  A recent poll found that 25% of Americans did not believe our President was born in the US (40% of Republicans believed that as well.)  All I have to say is we need to calm the fuck down America .

            First off for full disclosure, I am a registered Republican and do not believe Barack Obama has not done a great job as our leader.  However, this post will have nothing to do with my opinion of this man.  It has to do with how insane this debate has been.

            This debate has been going on as soon as Obama won the Democratic Primary in 2008.  While it has never been completely forgotten, it had cooled off until Donald Trump, potential GOP presidential candidate, brought it back into the limelight.  Despite providing legally binding documentation in 2008 of his birth in Hawaii , followers of the "birther" movement still demanded his birth certificate.  On Wednesday, it was provided and should have ended this controversy once and for all.  WRONG!

            Many of the FOX News all-stars are already claiming the birth certificate is a fake.  They had experts on their programs last night talk about how the birth certificate was ripped out of a book and photo shopped to make it look authentic.  Also, some people have flipped it on the “birthers”, claiming this is an issue of race, not residency.  We went from having one disagreement to having two.

            This shouldn’t even be an issue.  Since I was a youngster learning about the government in grade school, you knew the president had to be born in America and at least 35 years old.  I am hoping someone in the government checks on this before we elect a president.  I always assumed our president met the necessary requirements of becoming president.  I don’t even care if they use Wikipedia.  Just research it somehow.

            There will still be critics of this issue.  The only way they will believe Barack Obama was born in Hawaii is if Rush Limbaugh tells them to.  So, it’ll never happen.  As for the race card, I don’t believe this applies.  I believe this is an issue of Republicans vs. Democrats.  If Obama was white and had the last name of Laperriere, I am sure we would be having the same debate as critics would believe Barack Laperriere is from Canada or France .

            Speaking of the French, lets mention another douchefag: Donald Trump.  First, he demanded Barack show us his papers.  Then, he accused the media of blowing it out of proportion.  Then, he claimed he should be congratulated for having Barack provide the certificate.  I wouldn’t expect anything less from the man who ruined the USFL and hosts “Celebrity Apprentice”.

            Now that Birthgate has been cleared, maybe Obama can focus his attention on some other areas, like deadly tornadoes, our rising gas prices, our economy, or the Libyan war just to name a few.

           

                     -Written By Marcus Boyd

Wednesday's Words of Wisdom

          Today's Words of Wisdom are about not being a lazy douche bag. In other words, Elevator Ediquette. I understand you might not be affected by people that don't follow these guidelines. However, I'm positive that you are affected by lazy douche bags, that if they had the chance would abuse the unwritten rules of the elevator.
           Why Elevator Etiquette? Why not? The kind of violations that I'm about to speak of were brought to my attention by a frequent elevator user and loyal follower of my blog. You might be thinking, "well Pat just because they break a couple rules that doesn't make them lazy douche bags." Think again!
           First things first, if you are only going to the 2nd or 3rd floor, take the stairs you lazy bastard! Let's just say you are walking up to a crowded elevator and ask them to hold the door for you. They do of course and you hop on. Now there is an elevator full of people that might be running a little late and counting on the efficiency of the elevator to get them to the 15 floor in a jiffy. The doors close, then everyone sees your sausage like finger reaching towards the '2' and they all think the same thing. "This lazy douchebag made us hold the elevator instead of walking up ONE FLIGHT OF STAIRS!" Seriously, just walk up the steps for christ sake. If you get on the elevator and hit the 2 or 3 you're probably the kind of person that doesn't rinse and repeat in the shower, if you know what I mean.
           The second guideline I'd like to discuss has a little bit to do with the first. You know how buildings work, and you know how to count. I'm assuming those two things and I hope I'm not wrong. Having said that, if you know you are going to be one of the first people off the elevator, don't rush in and stand in the back! Let everyone else get on so you can be right by the door when it opens up. If you've been in the elevator with someone that has done this I know it irritated you. If it didn't irritate you, you're probably one of those people that asks for extra ketchup at the drive-thru, if you know what I mean. So the elevator stops and you hear this, "Excuse me, excuse me this is my floor." Really? Did you really have to stand all the way in the back when you knew you were getting off so soon? Why didn't you stand toward the front so you don't have to nudge your way out and inconveniece everyone? And God help you if you are only going to the 2nd or 3rd floor and you stood in the back. That's the kind of lazy ignorance makes me want to punch babies with another baby's fist.
          To sum it all up. Don't take the elevator if you're only going up one or two floors. You can use the exercise trust me. Also if you plan on getting off on one of the lower floors, don't stand in the back and be a douche bag about it. Let everyone else on first so you can be by the door. If you do either of the two things mentioned here you are probably one of those people that give Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches. And you know what I mean!
          
          

Do as I say, not as I do

          How many of you have ever heard the phrase, "Do as I say, not as I do"? Really? I thought more of you would have heard that before. Anyway, it's basically a teaching philosophy used by certain people that know what's best but don't necessarily do it themselves. For instance, let's say you know someone that teaches a safe sex class for teenagers but on the weekends they like to bare back hookers in a cheap motel. They use the philosophy do as I say, not as I do. It's sort of hypocritical. Well it's actually very hypocritical. However, it can be a very affective method of teaching. It works best on younger adults and teenagers. Let me give you a more personal example.
          I am an uncle and a godfather to my wonderful niece Amber. She is currently preparing for her Confirmation next year. I have been asked to be her Mentor and Sponsor for this monumental event in her young Catholic life. Now I know what you're thinking. "Pat, do you think you are the best sponsor or mentor for a young teenager about to embark on this sacred journey?" The answer my friends, is yes! The reason I will be such a fantastic sponsor and mentor is because I understand the philosophy. Do as I say, not as I do. I have the unique ability to realize what's right and wrong for someone else and guide them down the path of enlightenment. I understand that if I wanted to go to confession beforehand I'd have to call ahead so Padre could clear his schedule. That's not important. Don't focus on the negative things I've done according to the Catholic church and 46 of the 48 continental United States. What we need to focus on here is that I'm an exceptional teacher and this philosophy will allow me to do the right thing.
          Another reason I'm allowed to use this philosophy and use it so well is because I have the advantage of being older and wiser then my mentee. This only works if the experience and education level of the teacher is much, much higher. I can say with a fair amount of certainty whether something would be a good idea or not because I've been there. I've probably done it and dealt with the unfavorable consequences. I will always tell my nieces and nephews not to drink in excess even though I still do it myself. It's good advice and I'm in the position to express how bad it is. Do as I say, not as I do.
         This incredible philosophy will work very well in my case as a Catholic Mentor. I may not follow the good book, or do the "Catholic" thing all the time, but I know what is expected of young adult getting ready for such an occasion. I've been there. I've seen many others go through it. With my vast knowledge of this milestone and what is or isn't frowned upon, I might be the best mentor. This does not work with everyone in every situation. Not too many people have the amazing ability to see someone else's rights and wrongs like I do. So if you are new to this philosophy, I warn you to tread softly. Check the temperature of the water before you jump in if you know what I mean. However, if you've been down the wrong path before and are either fighting your way back, or just going with the flow and hoping for another fork in the road, use this philosophy to your advantage. Experience is a powerful tool. Who would you listen to about the dangers of drugs and alcohol? A Mormon who has most likely never experienced either? Or a recovering addict who has been in the back alley in the past giving Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches? I'd be listening to the addict. That guy knows the ins and outs and the real life consequences. Do as I say, not as I do.

You Can't Avoid Boyd

Despite All My Rage, Fuck Nicolas Cage

            Over the weekend, Nicolas Cage was arrested for domestic abuse, disturbing the peace, and public drunkenness while filming his newest movie in New Orleans .  This incident brings into question a disturbing trend in today’s America :  How the hell does Nicolas Cage keep getting $20+ million to star in films?!?!

            I am not a film critic.  I also have not seen all of Cage’s films.  However, I have seen enough to know this guy is a no-talent ass clown.  I have no issue with an actor making more than $20 million per film.  However, I have a problem when the actor isn’t any good.

            Nic Cage won an Oscar for his role in “Leaving Las Vegas” as a suicidal alcoholic who has a complex relationship with a prostitute.  It must have been a real stretch for him to play a degenerate whore-loving boozer (Based on this weekend, I assume he knows how to enjoy a cocktail.  As for the whores, he seems like the kind of guy with extra ham sandwiches in his pocket.  Also, I believe anyone that has ever played Xbox in Shawn’s basement could have replaced Cage and won the award as well.)  I realize this award allows him to command a higher salary.  Let’s examine some of his other noteworthy movies:

            The Rock:  I’ve seen this movie approximately 6,000 times (5,996 of them due to this being Pat’s go-to DirectTV movie in the past year.)  The movie is saved by Sean Connery, Ed Harris, and the rest of the cast.  Cage as a doctor wasn’t believable in the first place.  Cage as a doctor who kicks the asses of hardcore renegade Marines is an acting abortion.  I’m willing to give him a mulligan since this is his first film after “Leaving Las Vegas”. 

            Con Air:  This might be the greatest “bad” movie of our generation.  However, Cage ruins this movie for me.  His portrayal as Cameron Poe is lacking to say the least.  His Southern accent was as if he decided to make one up five minutes before filming.  I still maintain if Keanu Reeves would have starred in this movie, he’d be known as “Academy Award winning actor Keanu Reeves.”  I’m noticing a trend.    

Face-Off:  As a guy who loves unrealistic movies, even I couldn’t get past the fact Cage and John Travolta switching faces/voices despite the noticeable height and weight differences between the two.  I don’t think Pacino and DeNiro could have saved this piece of crap much less Cage and Vincent Vega.

After these movies, Cage became an actor demanding eight figures and routinely getting paid.  Some of movies did well, most did not.  However, the fact remains Nicolas Cage is an overpriced, overrated actor.  We need to stop him America .  He’ll keep buying castles and vintage comic books and evading the IRS if Hollywood keeps cutting the check.  Hollywood won’t stop paying this man unless we stop shelling out $12 a ticket to see him in movie theaters.  It’s up to you people.  I am begging you.

-Written by Marcus Boyd

Wednesday's Words of Wisdom

          Well it's Wednesday and that can only mean another installment of Wednesday's Words of Wisdom. I know you're excited to learn what you can be doing better as a contributing member of society. Well today it's not going to be a long one, but this one is basic and important. Some of you might have some kind of objection for religious reasons, or some other kind of bullshit, but relax and just hear me out.
          When someone around you sneezes, say "God bless you" or "bless you" or even the playful "Gesundheit" for crying out loud. It's not about believing in the superstition that your heart stops, or your soul is thrust from your body, or any other possible explanation for why we say it. It's about acknowledging that it happened. It's about being a courteous human being and saying, "hey, I noticed you just sneezed. God bless you." It's the same as when you pass someone in a hallway, or an aisle somewhere, and give a nice friendly greeting. What does that pompous asshole do? Just keeps walking like you don't exist and didn't say hello. What the hell is wrong with people today?
          If I hear someone sneeze, even from a room away, I will say bless you loud enough for them to hear. It's comforting for them to know that someone recognized they exist and just sneezed. If someone in your office or workplace yelled out "Hey does anyone realize I'm alive?" Wouldn't you at least acknowledge them? Even if you just yelled back, "Hey douche bag, get a life!" At least they would know someone heard them. A sneeze is the same thing.
          I sneeze at work sometimes and nobody says a word. So I sit there and think; there is no way they didn't hear that, why didn't anyone say God bless you? Who the fuck do they think they are to just sit there and ignore me like the bum at 7-11 giving Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches? I bet he at least gets a follow up, "what kind of spread you got on that bread?" Maybe you think I'm the crazy one that just needs to be validated or something. Well all I know is, I feel a lot better when someone says bless you after I sneeze. And like the kid in class that isn't afraid to ask the question everyone else is thinking, I'm putting it out there. If everyone would acknowledge a sneeze with some kind of response, the world would be a happier place. You know it, and I know it.
         

Gun Control vs Parent Control

HOUSTON — Houston school district officials say a kindergartner who brought a loaded gun to a school, injuring himself and two others when it fired after falling from his pocket, could face disciplinary action including being sent to an alternative school for up to 180 days.

District spokesman Norm Uhl says no punishment has been decided.

Houston Independent School District Assistant Police Chief Robert Mock says one bullet was fired about 11 a.m. Tuesday in the Ross Elementary School cafeteria, spraying the fragments at the students.

Houston police spokesman Victor Senties says it is too early in the investigation to tell if any charges will be filed. Police aren't discussing their probe.

District spokesman Jason Spencer says the three children suffered foot injuries

 

             This story is out of Houston, Texas. People think we need Gun Control in this country, I submit its Parent Control we need. I was introduced to firearms at a young age. You know what else I was introduced to? Gun SAFETY! The proper use and handling of a firearm can be taught folks. "Gun's don't kill people, I kill people." As funny as that shirt was in Happy Gilmore, it's true. Gun's don't load themselves up and start shooting people. Someone has to pick that gun up, put bullets in the clip or chamber, and squeeze the trigger. SomeONE has to do that! We don't need Gun Control in this country; we need to start teaching Gun Safety.
           We need Parent Control. You should have to take a series of tests before you can reproduce. If you fail, you are sterilized. Yea, it seems extreme. You know what else would be extreme? If the responsible Americans carrying firearms had to give them up. You know why that would be a terrible idea? If having a gun breaks the law; ethical, well behaved people won't have the ability to protect themselves. Criminals are going to break the law, that's why they are called criminals. So they will always have guns. The only thing a more strict Gun Control law would do is take the ability to protect yourself away from honest, responsible, red-blooded Americans.
          Its stories like the one above that gets the argument started and the wrong points of this article are focused on. Why was this kid able to get his hands on a gun? Why was the gun loaded when he found it? I doubt a little boy in kindergarten is going to be able to load up a firearm. Why wasn't the gun in a safe? Where were his parents when he was getting ready for school? How do you not notice your son is carrying a loaded gun in his pants!? Those questions won't be answered, or even asked. The focus will be that he had a gun and could have killed someone. A stricter gun control law would have prevented this. WRONG! I'm going to guess that the level of irresponsibility associated with this kid's parents is off the charts. This child was going to bring something into school that could kill someone no matter what gun laws were being enforced. 
         It's the parents that need to be controlled. There are countless things that happen in this country that could have been prevented if the parents of the offenders did their job. Rap music and violent video games are being blamed for what some of these kids do these days. Really? How about bad parenting? Why is that no one wants to look at the real problem here?
         How do we fix the problem Pat? I'll give you my solutions. Be prepared, they won't be covered in sugar. First, mandatory gun safety classes for every American! Yes, I said EVERY American. Second, mandatory parenting classes for EVERY PARENT! And I know what you're thinking. How are you going to get every parent to take a class? You file your taxes every year? Well you have to have to take this class every year too! I'm not naive either, so I understand that we will never get every single parent to take this class, and that there will be loopholes that will be taken advantage of. However, it will significantly increase the amount of better parents and safer kids. That's just the facts!
          So how about we stop blaming guns for stupid behavior and step up and take some responsibility! If you don't think that's a good idea, you are entitled to your opinion no matter how wrong it is. I'll be sure to look for you in the back alley somewhere stuffing your face with Ham Sandwiches!

First Round of Golf

            I was up early this morning. I didn't care what those birds were chirping about outside, I only had one thing on my mind. GOLF. It was Sunday morning and I had the perfect afternoon set up. A half priced round of 18 and anywhere from 6 to 12 beers. It doesn't get much better on a Sunday. I'm a firm believer in looking the part, so I dressed up in my nicest golfing gear and waited for my ride to pick me up. I was waiting on none other than DC Dennis the Accountant. Whose nickname was given to him for obvious reasons by me, and remains one of the best nicknames ever given to anyone for any reason. He couldn't get here soon enough. I was getting pretty amped up for this. He finally arrived and we loaded up his SUV with everything we'd need. Golf clubs, golf shoes, and golf beers.  

          On the way there we decide to get some food from "a deli" and without getting into all the reasons I hate that deli I'll just say it took 45 minutes to get a hoagie. Then it was off to the course early to hit a bucket of balls and get some practice green time in. Yes, even after waiting 45 minutes for our sandwiches we got there early enough for all the warm-up activities. I wasn't the only one excited about today. The bucket of balls went as expected. A few over here, a few over there. And how about that, a few straight. I wasn't concerned. The putting practice went very well. I have a good feel for my putter and was rolling them right up where I wanted. Let's get to the action. 

          After the harder than needed explanation on how the two-for-one coupon worked, we were on our way. We had a competitive foursome on the first tee and it was shaping up to be a great day for all. "I'll go first guys." "You know what, I'll even hit driver. I can't see how this would be a bad idea." What upsets me is that I know better. Driver should never come out of my bag until at least the 5th or 6th hole. What was I thinking? Anyway, I put the tee in the ground and placed my Nike MOJO ball on top with optimism. I stepped back and started my routine. I start behind the ball to visualize the shot, take a practice swing, visualize again, then I square up and swing. It all starts out the way I pictured it the night before. I visualize a gorgeous shot, starting out a little right of the fairway and curving slightly back towards the center of the short stuff. I step up and think, "here it goes, just like you've been practicing in the living room for the past 4 months."

          The backswing is as smooth as the second hand of a Rolex watch. I reach the peak and prepare to send this ball right to the middle of the fairway. *PING* NOOOO! Come back! Shit! That wasn't what I had pictured a few seconds ago. A wicked slice starting at the right side of the fairway and landing about 25 feet in the rough on the left side. Oh yea, there was some serious action on that ball. I think I'll be able to find it and I'll just have to make a great second shot. I'll try not to get too worked up over it, it's early. So after some careful combing of the grass I find my ball, just on the wrong side of a wooden fence along the road. It's no big deal; I'll take my drop and make the best of it. 

          So I drop 2 and prepare to hit 3 towards the green. The same routine behind the ball, and I step up to try and salvage hole 1. My second swing starts out just as smooth as the first. The outcome is a little different however. The ball doesn't slice left, it just starts out left and rockets down rough about 35 yards short of the green. Perfect! I wish there was a sarcastic font so you could understand how not perfect that shot was.

          So I pull out my sand wedge. "Nice and smooth, keep your head down, make good contact." SHIT! Thinned it! It landed on the green, but it was coming in so hot it skipped right off and settled about 10 yards past the hole in the thick stuff. I manage to get it on the green in 5 with a reasonable 24 footer for double bogey. Nope, it's just not my hole. I end up with a 7, a triple bogey to start off my day, my season, the rest of my life. A frustration runs through my veins like Kenyon's in a marathon. I try to calm myself down before the second hole. Woooosssaaaaaaa, yea that shit doesn't work. Gooossssssfrrraaaabaaaaaaa, nope that doesn't help either. How about a beer? Ahhhhh, that's better. 

          So it's on to the second hole and a chance at redemption. I don't want to get into a hole by hole recollection of my day but I'll tell you it started with two 7's and more beer. I ended up finishing the front nine with a 53, which I was okay with for the first 9. It was a little off my goal pace, but it was under my acceptable pace. So let's stay on track and try to shave a couple strokes off the back 9.

          Every now and then you hit that perfect shot, the one that keeps you coming back. Well I guess today wasn't every now and then. Don't get me wrong, I hit some good shots. After I put my driver to bed for the day and hit my 3 wood, the B-52 Bomber, off the tee I was playing from the fairway more times than not. Never that perfect one though. You know the hit I'm talking about. One of those shots you watch in awe the whole way and think to yourself, if I could do that every time I'd be getting paid for this. So like I said, I didn't hit one of those shots today. The back nine was not as generous as the front was. And if you recall, the front wasn't that generous at all. So the beers were flowing like the mighty Mississippi.

          To sum things up, I shot a 108. I didn't keep the scorecard, if that was your question. However, a wise man once told me, "A bad day on the golf course is better than a good day at work." Ain't that the truth?!

          We all went out for a little post-round grub and you guessed it, we had more two-for-one coupons. So as the last gulp of beer went down I started to recap the day. Slice, thin, flub, chunk, divot. These were all words that dominated the recount of the round, but dammit it was good to be out there swinging the sticks. Since I set the bar so low, or high, depending on how you look at it, I have nothing but optimism for my next outing. All I need to do is make sure I have more coupons; it gets pretty expensive to golf in Virginia. I might need to give Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches, and then open a Ham Sandwich stand. Maybe I should wear my golf glove.

        

Hiding a Hangover

     Yesterday was opening day of the Spring Kickball Season! We all meet up by the Washington Monument every Thursday and play kickball. There are two parts to the league. First, you play kickball, and have a kickball championship at the end of the season. We also play Flip-cup. You play flip-cup against the team you just played kickball against and again there is a championship at the end of the season. Well, like any opening day, it got pretty serious last night. By serious I mean that shots were taken, beers were crushed, and lives were changed forever.

So how do you hide your hangover?

          When I wake up in the morning, I rarely hit the snooze button. I'm what some people call a morning person. I like to get up in the AM and get the day started. Today was a different story. I hit the snooze button 3 times. That's not a big deal for some of you, maybe you do that every morning. So imagine a morning where you hit the snooze button 9 times. Not because you wanted to, because you had to. It was that kind of morning for me.
          I felt like I was hit by a bus, picked up and hit again by an 18-wheeler. Let's just say my morning shower was a bit longer than usual. That doesn't change the fact that I have to go to work today though. Now I don't work in a corporate office, or some fancy building I need to get dressed up for. But I still have co-workers and a boss.
          The ride to work was pretty normal. I decided to stop at the yellow lights I came to. I'm in no rush today. I was still trying to get my shit together enough not to barf on the receptionist when I walked in the door. Fridays are always a slow day, nobody shows up till 9:45 or so. I'll hit up 7-11 to get some electrolytes and start the re-hydrating process. I roll up right around 9:30, I'm very punctual even when I'm hungover. Luckily the door is open, I go in and start to get my desk set up. "Deep breaths, here comes the boss." I say the usual morning greeting while trying not to show how bad my head is pounding. He responds, I don't think he can tell. I have to keep my distance though. I know I showered, but my pores are probably seeping Jameson and tequila right now. The thought of whiskey has my stomach doing a gymnastics floor exercise, and sticking every landing! I'm not too worried about my co-workers knowing I'm hungover. I'm sure they already see me as the older guy who drinks and curses in his free time. Fuck em! What do they know? As long as I keep to myself and keep my breakfast down I think I'll be just fine. So far, so good. Wow the Sun is awfully bright this morning.
          My headache hasn't gone away yet and I'm already through my first bottle of Gatorade G2. I'm watching my calorie intake. I don't think anyone has noticed yet, unless they just aren't saying anything. I'll just stay focused on my computer and make sure it looks like I'm getting my work done. These hours just can't go fast enough. All I can think of is my couch, and crashing on it as soon as I get home. That's what keeping me going right now. My eyelids are getting heavier and heavier, and every time I burp I hate Irish Whiskey. I'm going to take my time at lunch and clock out promptly at 5:30. I'm hungover!
          I can only hope that my Thursday drinking won't get me fired. I can only imagine how hungover I'll be after my 3rd or 4th Ham Sandwich when I'm unemployed, if you know what I mean.

You Can't Avoid Boyd!

Parents Need to Tighten Up

            Attendance for major league baseball games is down so far this year.  Most will point out this is due to our current economic situation.  With more people struggling to find work, it is probably not the best time to spend discretionary income to go catch a ballgame when you watch the same game in HD from your couch.  Other potential factors are poor performance of their team (I’m looking at you Indians and Pirates fans) and the early cold/wet weather we’ve been experiencing.  However, a lot of people are saying unruly drunken fan behavior is another deterrent.  Parents feel that their kids should not go to baseball games due to the poor example being set by drunken fans.  I say the parents need to get off their asses and do some parenting.

             Most people drink at sporting events (legally or illegally).  This should not be news to anyone.  There is a reason why most bars around sports venues have game day drink specials and the floors of stadiums are littered with empty airplane bottles.  People are entitled to enjoy a cocktail or six responsibly.  While it does not entitle them to call Jayson Werth a cocksucker for striking out with the bases loaded, it will happen.  Drunk people do dumb things, no matter how stupid or ugly they are.  I am not defending them.  However, it exists and parents shouldn’t be so naïve about it.  It is up to the parent to teach their child appropriate behavior and the difference between right and wrong.  There is a reason why most sporting venues have family friendly sections, where alcohol is prohibited.  Parents may legitimately gripe about drunken behavior if a brawl breaks out at Chuck E Cheese and/or someone calls the mouse a cunt because their pizza is cold.

            I believe a child should be at least ten years old to attend a sporting event (maybe older depending on the child.)  A child is going to be distracted by everything that is going around as most children have never been surrounded by tens of thousands of people before.  Constant vendors walking by, scoreboard graphics and sounds going off every ten seconds, thousands of different people conversing/screaming.  It is a lot for a child to take in, even before the drunken antics of others sets in.  While a ten year old shouldn’t be subjected to seeing two people fight in the stands, the child should be developed enough to know that is wrong.  I attended my first baseball game when I was seven.  Luckily, I was pretty focused on the baseball itself and not distracted by the other factors.  However, my dad would still point out any unruly behavior around us and why it was wrong.  Why did he do this?  Because he got off his ass and did some parenting.

            I already know most of you will question how effective the parenting was on me as I have been known to abuse alcohol at games before.  Sure, I’ve screamed at Carlos Beltran and held him personally responsible for 9/11 (probably not true, but still possible) and other proud moments as such.  It is not the fault of my dad.  I blame my scumbag friends and attending the 4^th best party school according to a 1994 Playboy study for my alcohol dependencies.    

        -Written by Marcus Boyd

Wednesday's Words Of Wisdom

                This is another installment of Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom. This week is all about driving. Now I could write a book and a half documenting all the things people do that give me road rage, but I won’t do that to you. I’ll just pick one or two things and focus on them for now.
                Whenever you are making a left turn, please for the love of god, do it from the LEFT SIDE of the lane! That way, people behind you have the opportunity to go around. There is no reason they should have to wait while you make the turn. There is also no reason that you have to make that turn from the center, or even worse, the right side of the lane. Just shimmy on over to the yellow line and make your turn. This has to be one of the easiest things you can do while driving a car. I can’t even count the times I was behind someone that made a left hand turn from the center or right side of the lane. Leaving me NO room to go around them. Now, I have to wait for the traffic on the other side to break before I can continue my trip. Why? I wasn't turning. It makes me want to follow them to wherever they're going and beat them into a coma with a tennis racket. I mean I have one in my trunk and haven't played tennis in years.
                I know what some of you are thinking. “Is this really a big deal?” Maybe not, but if everyone would do it, the driving world would be a much happier place.
                You've been there right? You're following someone down a winding road or even a straight highway and you see their blinker go on. "Thank god this moron is turning, I can't stand driving this slow." Not so fast! Said moron decides not to move over at all. Now there you are, cursing your face off, waiting for slow-poke to finally make the turn so you can scream at him/her (most likely her) out the window. If you're like me anyway. And I don't care what you say, most of the driving errors that are committed out there are either by females or Asians. Or female Asians, AHHHHHHH Look Out! Let's face it, they just can't drive.
                So please read this and if you get offended or this situation hasn't come while you were driving, IT'S YOU! MOVE OVER! It will lengthen the lifespan of all those around you, and it's very simple.

The Morning Run

 Even through my closed bedroom windows I can hear the birds chirping loud and clear. As I roll over and look at my alarm clock I realize I still have 6 minutes till the buzzer sounds. I think I'll wait. One bird out there just doesn't agree with my plan. "Stop repeating yourself!" I say as if he can hear me, or understand. Either way he isn't listening. As I lay there just waiting for the alarm to go off and lift the metaphorical gate surrounding my bed allowing me to get up, I try to think of how good it's going to feel to be running early in the morning again.
     Last time I was up and running before work it was still very dark outside. Work started a lot sooner overseas. I start to flash back to the morning routine. Getting dressed in the dark so I wouldn't wake my roommate. Putting the same shorts on over my spandex, the same shirt and my reflective belt. I also wore two knee braces at the time. The large one for my left knee, that's where the real pain was. The small one for the right, just in case. I put on my new Nike running shoes, then it was outside to start stretching. My headphones go in and I hit play on my running play-list. Technically I wasn't supposed to wear headphones while running outside, but at 0430 I'll take my chances. The course I choose to run over there was very flat and it was awfully dry outside. Two things I could count on were dry air and flat surfaces. The final distance would be right around 3.5 miles. That was a good distance for the morning, to get the blood pumping and the calories burning. I'd love to be back in that shape again. It begins today.
     The routine this morning is a bit different. Not really a routine at all, I just started. I don't have to worry about waking anyone up so I get dressed with the light on and Sports Center on the TV. Interestingly enough I still put only one pair of running shorts over my spandex. They're not my army shorts, but they are always the same ones. I get to pick my shirt this morning and decide to go with a white Nike shirt. No knee braces nowadays. After getting the right shoes all the knee pain went away. Crazy how important running shoes are when you do it often enough. I lace up my even newer Nike running shoes and outside I go. Same MP3 player, same running play-list. It could use an update but the songs still keep a good rhythm. Same stretching routine. Hamstrings, quads, calves and upper body. Now it's off to the races.
     It's very humid this morning. I hope the rain holds off till I finish. As my run starts I pass all the morning traffic on Great Falls St, imagining what they're thinking puts a smile on my face. The ups and downs of the neighborhood keep my legs and lungs guessing. "Just keep a good pace" I continue to tell myself up the hills. "Now open up your stride and go with it" on the way down. The development I turn into is remarkable peaceful compared to the bumper to bumper traffic I just passed. The trees are blossoming and petals cover sections of the sidewalk. Kids are walking to the bus stops while their parents are getting ready to leave for work. I'm in my own little world as my strides echo in the background of my music. Whatever is going on around me is taken in by my eyes but never really processed. It's just me and the road today.
     "Keep your breathing in check" I tell myself as I start to get a little winded. In-in-in, out-out-out. That's better. Now I get into a groove where I feel I can run forever. A calmness washes over me. The different smells of the morning are fighting for attention in my nose. The freshly laid sod and grass seed takes over as I pass a house making some lawn improvements. Briefly I think about my lawn. Just briefly though. My mind is concentrating on the countless steps I have until the end of my run. There is a small part of me that doesn't want it to end. While I'm running there isn't a care in the world. When it's over I have to go back to reality. Back to work. Back to the bills. Somehow if I could keep running everything would go away. As I round the last corner, up the final hill towards my house, I realize it's almost over. I have a feeling of relief as I approach the 4 mile mark. I also have a feeling of disappointment.
     I walk back and forth on the lawn I was thinking of earlier as I catch my breath. I check my run-keeper to see my pace and calories burned. Not bad. I start to stretch just as I did before the run. Hamstrings, quads, calves and upper body. The rain starts to fall as I wrap up my last stretch, almost like it was waiting for me to finish. I head inside for some water and relaxation. Not for long though, now that I'm done I have to start my other morning routine. This one I am familiar with.

Kickball Party . . . blackout

     After having some time to recuperate, I figured I would tell you all about the WAKA kickball party I attended this past Saturday in D.C. What I remember anyway, if you couldn't figure it out from the title I blacked out something fierce. I feel I would be doing you a disservice if I didn't start from the beginning, it's not quite the kickball party but it's important to the story.
     It all started around 12:30 in the afternoon. Marcus Boyd and I went over the Hard Times Cafe to check out some sports on TV and drink some beers. Hard Times has discounted domestic pitchers on Saturday, and a pretty delicious menu of all things chili. We enjoyed a couple pitchers while the Rangers were playing, and waited for a few other friends to show up before we started the night in D.C. Usually we would take the metro because it's convenient and cheap, but there was five of us so a cab was the better choice. Our cab driver was a bit weird and decided to text while driving, but he told some terrible jokes and we all got a good laugh out of it. The destination was our team captain and WAKA employee Mark's house. He was having a pre-party party at his place and promised us free beer and food, so what kind of friends would we be if we didn't check it out?
     We showed up and it seemed like we were the only ones that got the invite, but it started to fill up shortly after. Mark grilled up an awesome turkey burger and the beer was flowing like wine. Once we got enough people there we decided to step it up a notch with a little game of "you got got!" I won't get into the rules of the game, just know it's one of the absolute best drinking games ever, EVER! So after a couple beers went down and quick game of pass and chug with a bottle of champagne, it was off to the bar for the kickball party. This party was at an Irish bar in Capitol Hill and also promised free beer for all the players involved in WAKA kickball. That's when things start to get hazy.
     Kelly's Irish Times was the sponsoring bar and had a pretty nice setup. We got greeted and leied at the door and beer was free. What more can you ask for? If I told you free beer went down quicker than beer you pay for I'd be telling the truth. And let me tell you, that beer was free! A couple of chugging contests later and my memory starts to fail me. On a side note, I love chugging beer and do it faster than you do! Anyway, everyone was having a great time talking about past seasons of kickball and sharing some of the funny stories that go along with a kickball/flip-cup league. Sometimes you go into a bar and it seems like everyone has an attitude, and nobody is there to enjoy themselves. Well that wasn't the case Saturday night, I think it was the leis everyone was wearing. I'm always in a better mood after I get leied. The atmosphere was great, everyone was smiling and laughing, oh and did I mention the beer was free? After a few hours hanging out people were starting to get hungry, so we all ventured over the Hamilton's for some late night food. At least that's what I was told.
     I would continue to recall the events of the night, but I'd be lying to you. I would have to make it all up and you deserve better! So I'll tell you what I do know. We ordered food, and I chose to pay with my debit card. Which I had to pick up on Sunday because I didn't take it home with me. After the food was ordered, I got a phone call and wanted to go outside so I could hear better. When I got outside and drunkenly tried to explain how the party went to a good friend of mine on the phone, I also made a snap decision that I had enough and wanted to go home. So I bailed on my friends and just hopped in a cab bound for McLean, VA. I must have paid the cab in cash but as far as I know the cabbie owes me a Ham Sandwich!
     So to recap. The pre-party party was a success and "you got got" is the best drinking game ever! The kickball party was also a success and free beer is delicious. Getting leied puts people in a good mood. Hamilton's is very nice on Sunday afternoons and adds an 18% gratuity to tabs left there overnight. It sucks when you wake up in the morning and can't recall the last two or three hours of the night before. And, there might be an alternate way to pay for cabs in D.C. So that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Thanks for listening and if any of the guys that were out Saturday night would like to add something I left out, please feel free.

Airplanes . . . what happened?

     When was the last time you were on an airplane? I recently took a flight to Dallas, Texas. Most of the problems I have with airplanes today have to do with the flight attendants. I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed that since we started calling them flight attendants they’ve been getting less attractive. I also think they increased the minimum age from 18 to 57. I mean seriously? They are getting older and older and it’s almost getting out of hand.

***

     On a side note, the flight attendant just asked if there was a physician on board. Remember in the movie Airplane when they asked if there was a doctor on board? Oh yea, I keep looking back waiting to see this lady spit whole eggs out of her mouth. I think the people sitting across from me are already speaking jive. Surely she can’t be serious?

***

     So like I was saying, these flight attendants are also getting lazier. I recall back in the day when the head stewardess would go over the safety info with the help of her crew in a nice little routine. They would fasten the seat belt and show us the exits. Nobody paid any attention but they still went through the motions. It was important that the effort was given. I got on the plane today, we started to taxi from the terminal toward the runway, “and here comes the safety brief” I thought to myself. “Please direct your attention to the monitors for all the safety information of this 737.” What? So what are the flight attendants doing? Nothing! They are just standing in the back chatting it up like the old bitties they’ve become. The job description for flight attendants is probably three sentences. Where is the effort? What are we paying for? Get your little seat belt and oxygen mask out, put a damn smile on and walk me through the safety material on the card in the seat in front of me! I just think that all the money we pay for flights these days should warrant a little more hard work. It was very comforting not paying attention while they went over all the info we’d need if we made a soft crash landing in the water. Now it’s become so cold and impersonal. So just to sum up what I’ve found out during my recent flights; the ‘flight attendants’ are getting older and less attractive, their workload has been tailored towards old age and laziness, and a small bottle of whiskey costs $7.  

     Maybe it was because the interview I was in Dallas for didn’t go that well. Maybe it was because I was wedged in the middle seat uncomfortably for 3 hours. Maybe it was the 2 hours I spent at the airport bar drinking Jameson and Beer. Who knows? These are just a couple things I noticed on my trip from DC to Dallas and back. One of the main things I learned while staying in Dallas was that they operate on the Hand-jobs for Ham Club Sandwich exchange. I guess everything really is bigger in Texas.

You Can't Avoid Boyd!

If You Ain’t Offensive, You Ain’t Trying

            Fantasy sports are a big part of today’s society.  According to a number I just made up, 37% of Americans participate in some form of fantasy sports.  If it is a sport, you can play a fantasy version of it.  This post isn’t about why you should play.  If you don’t want to play, fine.  If you do, please follow the main rule of fantasy sports: Have the most offensive name as possible.  (Please note: The names of my friends will remain anonymous as some of my friends are valued auditors, medical professionals, and “journalists” and I do not want to slander their good name.)

            The following subjects have been touched on in fantasy leagues I have been associated with:

·        The death of Bernie Mac and Issac Hayes the same weekend as our football draft

·        Accidental drowning deaths (both among adults and infants)

·        Terri Schiavo

·        The Utah mining incident where six miners were trapped and declared dead

·        Ben Roethlisberger

·        Bill Cowher becoming single after his wife passed away from cancer

·        Luis Salazar, baseball coach who lost an eye after being struck by a ball

·        Ron Washington’s cocaine use

·        Dany Heatley killing his teammate after a drunken car accident

·        Suicides, tragic deaths, horrific injuries, and convictions of too many athletes/celebrities to name

·        Michael Vick

·        Kevin Everett, paralyzed football player

·        School shootings

·        Incidents directly involving our friends

The fantasy football league I run is named after Joe Namath’s legendary drunk interview with Suzy “I Just Want to Kiss You” Kolber (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gc65NC44dSk).  Once, a coworker saw the name of my fantasy team and stared at me in disbelief.  A friend already has a team name for the 2011 football season (if there is one) involving the disaster in Japan .  My first thought wasn’t “Oh My God, that’s horrible”.  It was “Damn, that is genius”.  Another friend always uses generic lame names for his fantasy teams and I believe this is the reason he has a winning percentage of .349 and has yet to win anything.  My friends aren’t racist, homophobic, or insensitive.  They are just misunderstood.

Every year, my fantasy goals are to win as much money as possible and have the most offensive name as possible.  Even when my friends and I are dead, I look forward to continuing this tradition in Hell.  My goal is to get the Prince of Darkness in our league and name my team “The Devil is a Cunt”.  It’ll totally be worth the ham sandwich I have to earn daily for all eternity.

Written by: Marcus Boyd

Where do we draw the line??

     So where do we draw the line on what's sexist and what's not? If a man gets a job over a woman, it's sexist. If somone assumes that a man can do something better than a woman, it's sexist. Some people even think that sports teams that are all male are sexist. So we try our best to make things equal. That's what you women are fighting for right? Equality. So I ask you. Where is the line?

     This isn't coming out of nowhere. I wasn't up last night randomly thinking about women's rights. Sorry ladies, there is a reason I bring this up. It's the coed volleyball league I just joined. Yes, coed volleyball made me think of women's rights and why they need special treatment in certain situations. And why that isn't considered sexist. So allow me to set this up a bit. 

     I arrive at the gym with my roommate and contributing writer to Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches, Marcus Boyd. We go in and start stretching and warming up. Like the dedicated teammates we are, we showed up first. After a few minutes, our captain shows up with another female player on the team and we all get acquainted. Marcus knew everyone already, I was the new guy. The rest of the team filters and we start to go over some strategy. There are some administrative details that needed to be done before we could start our warm-ups. Waivers, money, residency forms, etc. So after we handled the business, it was on to our bumping and setting drills. We did the usual thing, stand in a circle and just hit it around to eachother. Everything was going pretty well. I was beginning to see some of the skill sets everyone was working with and where our weak points might be. The game that was in progress was coming to an end so we are started getting ready for action. We gathered around the scorekeeper/ref/linesman and went over the basics. He explained the basic volleyball rules in effect and how the scoring would happen. It was best out of 3, standard scoring unless it went to game 3 in which it would be rally scoring. Rally scoring is when a point is scored everytime the ball is served, instead of standard scoring where you only score when you serve. Anyway, there was one more rule he needed to explain, and thats when he dropped the bomb! 

     The "it's about to get sexist" bomb. What volleyball rule could possibly be sexist? Well allow me to set this up as well. First, there needs to be 3 females on the court at all time. There can never be more males than females, and since there are 6 people on the court, you always need 3 ladies. I'm not even upset about that rule. I can understand that to a point. Second, if your team hits the ball more than once, a girl must hit it one of those times. In other words, if the ball comes over the net the hits must go in one of these orders; guy-guy-girl, guy-girl-guy, guy-girl-girl, girl-guy-girl, girl-guy-guy, etc. Hopefully you get the point there. If the ball gets hit more than once, it must be hit by a girl. A guy can just hit the ball right back over without penalty, which ends up being a good strategy in some cases. Does that rule sound a little sexist to you? Especially in a sport like volleyball where, in more cases than any other sport, the females are better anyway. 

     That rule is not only sexist but it really disrupts the flow of the game. Depending on how you have your court set up, a girl can't always hit the ball. So if two guys hit it over, the other team gets the point or side out. Where it really comes into play is when things break down or someone makes a bad pass. Now, you're trying to save the ball and keep the play going. However, if a guy made the bad it, you better make sure that when you try and make a play it goes to a female so she can hit it over. Really? Is that volleyball? NO, it's not. I don't agree with stepping in front of girls to hit the ball, but if it just doesn't make it to them for a play or two then so be it. Most of the time it's the girls that are setting the ball, so if you play the game right they'll get their hits. To make it a rule is completely sexist and ruins the flow of a game. 

     So that brings up the question. Where do we draw the line on what's sexist and what's not? There are certain occasions where females get special treatment and it's kind of expected and acceptable. Then there are times when we try to give special treatment and get scolded for being a chauvinist pig. Have you ever tried to help a woman carry something? Now I know this doesn't apply to everyone, so please relax. In most cases, that I've been involved in, a woman finds it offensive if you offer to carry something for them. "What, you don't think I can carry it?" No bitch, I was just trying to help out and be a gentleman. I hear all the time that chivalry is dead, well it's because woman killed it. That's for another blog another day. I just want to know where we draw the line? When are we allowed to give special treatment and when aren't we? And who makes that call? 

     Would be sexist to refuse a Hand-job for a Ham Sandwich from a woman because I don't think she'll be able to do it right? Or should I seek out the female bums with hunger pains? You tell me! 

Like a good neighbor . . .

     This has been bothering me for a while now. "Like a good neighbor State Farm is there." *POOF* The agent shows up. Then one of the friends is obviously surprised by what happened and decides to try it out. So they sing the little jingle and end it with whatever they want. *POOF* everything they just said pops up! So let me ask you something. When the commercial started and the State Farm customer sang the jingle, did they end it with "with my agent"? No, they didn't. They said the stupid jingle and the agent just popped right up. So why doesn't that happen when the friends do it?? Why do they get to say anything they want? 
     Want to know another thing that bothers me about that commercial? You do? Of course you do. Does State Farm just give stuff away? If I become a State Farm customer can I just have whatever I want? Or if I'm friends with a State Farm customer, since that's the way the commercial works. The one guy asks for a sandwich, no big deal I guess. So how about the girl from 4E? How do you think she feels? She was hanging out searching Internet porn like we all do when we're home alone. Then boom, she's on the couch with three random dudes and a sandwich. Then to make it more awkward, the other guy gets a hot tub. Talk about an uncomfortable situation. This poor girl gets launched into a room with a guy who is obviously obsessed with her, his two friends and hot tub. Things are about to get really weird in that apartment. Hopefully they wait for the State Farm agent to leave.
     So how about the other one they have with Bob Barker? He should probably stop tanning and die already. "And a New Car!!" What was it a Geo Tracker or something? Who the hell wants that? Yea, thanks Bob. Now take my advice and kick the damn bucket already.
     I saw one the other day where each member of a couple asks for a new boyfriend/girlfriend. Not only is that pretty messed up, it's also the end of that relationship. "No babe, I love the way you look" Yea, nice try. You asked your damn agent for a better me!! Pretty shallow State Farm, pretty shallow.
     I know you need to come up with clever advertisements to keep up with the Miller Lite and Bud Lite commercials, but come on. You need to have a serious talk with the VP of marketing and find out what he's on. I'm guessing it's a combination of things. Maybe a Jefferey, for those who saw Get Him to the Greek. It has to be something strong because those commercials are getting worse and worse with each annoying jingle. The next one is going to be a couple guys at a bar, when they come out to see the car they were going to drunkenly drive home has been smashed by a hit and run. "Like a good neighbor State Farm is there . . . with a bum offering Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches." *POOF* Ziiiip . . . NICE!

Customer Service shouldn't be so awkward!

     How were your last couple experiences with customer service?? I'll tell you about my last two, and I'm going to be honest, they were awkward.
     So I'm going to go back to my birthday weekend for the first instance of awkward customer service. It was March 12, 2011. Margo and I were meeting Dennis and Emily at Clyde's in Chinatown. I wanted a steak dinner and Dennis suggested Clyde's because it fit right in with my price range. We head upstairs for our reservation, get seated promptly, so far so good. Our waiter comes over and has a thick Brooklyn accent, that doesn't have anything to do with it, I'm just saying. So we order our drinks, we all get carded, no big deal. Well the Virginia license I recently got hadn't come in the mail yet, so I had my old PA one with "VOID" punched in it. It didn't expire till the next day but he wouldn't accept it because it said void. So I showed him my military ID which had expired in September 2010 and that was fine. Go figure. Anyway, we get our drinks and order our food and everything seems to be going fairly smooth.
     Well that didn't last long. First it was taking forever for our food to come out. Our waiter forgot we were his table. The food we ordered wasn't quite right for everyone. So we just laugh it off, it's not a big deal. We had our drinks and some good material to make jokes about. The manager, PJ, didn't feel the same way. So he came over to offer some apologies for the slow service and mix ups. So you'd think the manager of a nice restaurant in D.C. would have some kind of social skills. WRONG! This guy was as awkward as it could get. Long pauses between words, weird eye contact, I think he ate one or two of his own sentences. It was strange. So we brush it off, and order a nice bottle of wine. That turned out to be a mistake. It took 20 minutes for them to come over and say they didn't have that wine anymore. Here comes PJ, he'll take care of it. So he comes up to the table, pauses a second or two too long, and then waves his hand in a windshield wiper type move and says "I'm back!" . . . . . "So we don't have that wine in stock and we're going to give one of our nicer bottles on the house." Thanks for getting that out PJ, we appreciate it. "He's still here, what is he doing?" I whisper to Margo. After a longer then comfortable pause again, he continues. "I just grabbed the nicest bottle I could find back there, I'm so mad right now" as he shakes his fist. Yes, he actually shook his fist as if he were in a badly scripted soap opera. I guess I can just say soap opera. Anyway, you'd think after that he would tell us to enjoy the rest of our meal and wine and walk away. If that were the case I guess I wouldn't be writing about it. He stood there for a few more awkward seconds in silence and then walked away. So I wonder how he got this job? Is Clyde his father? That's the only explanation. Again, no big deal, we take the free bottle of wine and continue to enjoy ourselves. Uh oh, here comes PJ. He walks up to the table again to apologize for everything and explain all the items they were taking off our bill. While he is explaining why we are getting stuff for free, we all kind of chuckle a bit at the situation. "No, it's not funny" he says while staring at the light fixture on the wall above our table. How awkward is it when you are laughing at something and someone says in a very serious tone that it's not funny? It makes you a little uncomfortable right? That was the cherry on top of our Awkward pie. When it was all said and done we got like $100 of free food and drinks. Happy Birthday to me! So I'm thinking, this has to be a one time deal. There can't be more than one establishment that would hire such social rejects. WRONG!
     Fast forward to this weekend. I was in NYC on a social visit. I don't know if you've been to NYC before, but brunch is a big thing up there. So, when in Rome right? So we head out to find a good brunch spot. There is only one stipulation for the place we choose. They must have oatmeal. I was with Margo and Kristina and Kristina only wanted oatmeal in case you were wondering where that stipulation came from. So we walk a couple blocks downtown from Hell's Kitchen checking out joints along the way. We come across one place that seems to have a pretty good deal. The busboy enjoying a cigarette outside tells us how good it is and convinces us to try it out. They had an all you can drink Mimosas and Bloody Mary's special with brunch which is a good selling point. We noticed there was no Oatmeal on the menu, but the gentleman assured us they had some. While we're checking out the menu a couple walks by and is intrigued by the all you can drink special. As the wife comes over and scans the choices she notices one of the selections is "tasted bagel" I didn't spell it wrong, that was on the menu. So she makes a joke about a bagel with a bite out of it being the tasted bagel. Everyone gets a good laugh out of it. It must be some type of foreign bagel or something, they wouldn't have a typo on their menu right? Wow, wrong again. Guess what kind of pancakes they had. If you guessed Bluebarry, you win! Yep, you read it right BlueBARRY. Weird right? So anyway, that's all before we even get in this place. As far as the typos go, that's another post for another time.
     We get in and are greeted by the bartender who signals for the hostess to seat us. Here comes a young looking fellow with water. He looks like he probably plays Dungeons and Dragons between his Harry Potter marathons. So now that you have a visual, lets get into how creepy his service is. It's the same story as above. Long pauses, weird eye contact, he didn't eat any sentences he would just kind of stop them mid-way through and walk away. He brings over the napkins and it takes like 20 seconds to say "Sorry they weren't out already." All while just kinda standing and staring into space. This continues throughout the meal. Every time he comes over and leaves we all had something else to laugh about. It was almost like it was his first day. Not his first day on the job, his first day talking to other people. What kind of interview process did he go through? It must have been all online. They didn't have oatmeal by the way. That doesn't really have an awkward story to go with it. It was just FYI. So how do these people get jobs in customer service when they have such a hard time in social situations? It doesn't make any sense to me. If your job is to communicate with people and make them feel comfortable in your establishment, I'd figure you can at least talk to someone in a normal fashion. If it were up to me, these guys would be fired on the spot! Judging by their past performance in a public speaking environment, I'd be half-way through the Hand-job before they even mentioned they required a Ham Sandwich in return. And that's just not fair!
     On a side note, I asked the waitress about the Bluebarry pancakes. I was thinking maybe it was on purpose and there was some special type of berry I didn't know about. "Oh, we employ a lot of Eastern European people here, so they can't spell that well." REALLY?? That's the excuse? Unreal. Like I said before, that subject is for another post.
     So do you have any awkward customer service stories? Sorry this went a little long. I'm on a 4 and 1/2 hour bus ride and just felt like getting all the details in there.

Being a "Good" Catholic.

     There is a term out there that I'm sure everyone has heard of before. The term is "good Catholic." We've all used it ourselves or heard someone using the term when talking about something they shouldn't be doing. In terms of being a good Catholic that is. So what does it mean to be a good Catholic, and should there be any other kind?
     Today is Friday, and for those of you that know what's up it means Catholics can't eat mean today. It's Lent and during Lent, Catholics are not supposed to eat meat on Fridays. That's one of the rules of Lent anyway. All Catholics are supposed to give up something they eat/drink/do often for the duration of Lent  as well, which is 40 days. It starts on Ash Wednesday, the 7th Wednesday before Easter, and goes for 40 days. Now some of you might be saying, well that puts us about a week short of Easter. Sundays aren't counted in the 40 days so count again! The purpose of Lent is for Catholics to mimic Jesus' withdrawal into the wilderness for 40 days. So to give up something important to them and not eat meat on Fridays is the way it's supposed to go.
     So have you been a "good Catholic"? What other ways are people wondering if they are being "good" or not. Let's start with the meat on Friday thing. I have been messing that up for the past couple weeks leaving me to ask that question. Today almost got me again. I got to the BoltBus stop a little early and wanted to grab a quick bite before the 4 and 1/2 hours to NYC. I stroll into Quiznos and check out their menu. Staring me right in the face is an advertisement for their new Chicken Bacon Dipper! Yes Please! I'll take one of those sir. Now I don't know if someone outside was saying something, or it was someone in the restaurant that mentioned it, I'm not even ruling out the possibility of it being Jesus himself. But someone whispered "Friday" in my ear. At least that's what it seemed like. "Wait wait wait, sir do you have some kinda veggie sandwich?" Phhheewwww, I almost blew it again! So I get my veggie sandwich and realize I did blow it! I forgot to say no olives! Gross! At least on this Friday I can say I was a good Catholic!
     How else can I be good? Go to church? Yea, probably, I mean it couldn't hurt. I'm not really in agreement with the whole church part of religion but that's a different story! So what are some of the other occasions in our everyday life where us Catholics find ourselves questioning how good we are? Swearing? Guilty. Pre-marital sex? Guilty, sorry Mom. Masturbating? . . . . guilty. Drinking in excess and blacking out, then only God knows what? Guilty. I'm sure there are more, and I'm sure I'd be saying guilty to most of those as well. Does that mean I'm a bad Catholic and am doomed to Hell?? I sure hope not. What about you? Even if you're not religious or a Catholic you know what I'm talking about. So you could ask yourself the same questions and see where you stand.
      For now I'm going to concentrate on the meat on Friday deal. Maybe even go a couple weeks after Easter to make up for my previous slip-ups. Is it all for nothing? Maybe it is, maybe it's not. I should be able to at least follow it for 40 days though. Maybe a little sacrifice would be good for everyone. A lot of things are taken for granted these days. Try taking something you do everyday and giving it up for period of time. Like a week! Just to experience that for a short period of time will make you appreciate the ability to have it everyday. So suck on that for a while and tell me what you think.
      I've made it to the pit stop on my bus trip. A small rest stop between DC and NYC. Is that what I think it is? Yes it is, good thing I've got a Ham Sandwich! I couldn't eat it, I hope this guy isn't a Catholic. Either way . . . Zip!