You Can't Avoid Boyd - Talladega Nights Edition

Marcus Boyd’s Excellent Adventure: Talladega Nights Edition

For the next few “You Can’t Avoid Boyd” (or what the lazy people call YCAB), I will be writing about my travel adventures, some local, some not. The first installment brings us to one of the biggest NASCAR venues in the United States, Talladega, Alabama.

I know you are all wondering why I would attend a NASCAR race. My love of race car driving is strictly defined by “Days of Thunder”, “The Fast & The Furious: April Drift”, and “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” and no actual racing. I had actually attended the Pocono 500 in 2005 as some of my rugby teammates hit it up. Once it started, I bolted after 20 minutes. Grand opening, grand closing. However, one of vendor reps offered a co-worker and me an all-expense paid trip to the race. I figured it was worth another shot. Golf on Saturday, race on Sunday, paid day off on Monday and all the alcohol I can drink throughout. Could life get any better? I submit that it cannot!

Actually, life did get better. Saturday’s golf round was replaced by driving to Birmingham and watching college football/drinking all day. Instead of shooting a 142, I got to abuse my golden ticket. First off, Birmingham might be the most boring college town I have ever been in (you are off the hook, East Stroudsburg.) While attending a conference down there years ago, no one seemed to go out. I figured it was just bad during the weekdays, or just randomly dead that week. On Saturday, it was a ghost town. It did get a little more crowded when LSU kicked off, but it was pretty bad showing. I figured people were attending the UAB football game until a friend pointed out they played Thursday night. Second of all, waitresses are extremely nice. Not once did I have to fill up my pint glass, as the three pitchers of PBR I drank singlehandedly were flowing like wine. There weren’t many lookers in the group, but they sure were nice. Later that night, my group of married colleagues decided it was time to head to the “library”. It was a pretty awesome library, except when it came down to the night games. Alabama was kicking off the same time as Notre Dame’s first night game in 21 years. I have been looking forward to the Irish game all season. I figured one television would show it. Nope. When I asked one of the librarians if they could change one of the many TVs, she said “Honey, you’re in Alabama. If I change the channel, a riot will break out.” Luckily, I didn’t miss much as the Irish shit the bed. At the end of the night, I learned two things: I do not know how to make a Royal Flush shot (it is not just Crown Royal and cranberry juice) and Taco Bell will not allow you to walk through the drive-thru.

After sleeping two hours, it was time for Talladega. By 7 am, our group had set up the grill, two tents, tables, chairs, and chilled the beer, all 75 cases. They even brought a port-a-potty. Since most of my colleagues are old as fuck, I was drinking alone until 9 am. By the time the grill was fired up, they adhered to the strict South law that vegetables are for pussies. They had four different types of pork (Thank god Josh and Evan didn’t go on this trip, they would have starved to death.) To my delight, NASCAR races are BYOB. I was at the perfect moment of tailgate drunk as I walked into the famous speedway. I was quite impressed as the track can hold 175,000 people and it appeared to be at full capacity. As I took my seat by the finish line, I was stoked. Then it happened. The race started and it was as boring as shit as I remembered it. 188 laps of hoping to see some awesome non-fatal crashes. Luckily, I did get to see a pretty sweet one. But it bored me to death. I even fell asleep twice (I had ear plugs in.) Throw in the fact I fell asleep at the library the night prior and I had earned a dubious reputation during the trip.

After back to back 12 hour drinking sessions, the rest of the trip involved an early Sunday night pass out by the entire group, trying not to vomit during the vendor’s plant tour on Monday morning (which would have been the second time after the Royal Flush shot), and looking miserable as I waited for my flight in the enormous continent known as Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International Airport. All and all, good times. I regret nothing, except the entire race.

        -Written by Marcus Boyd

Next week: Halloween in the DC area.

McDonald's - You Sassy Bitch!

              Fast food? No, thanks. Unless you count Subway as fast food, which I don't, I normally stay away from it because it's just not that healthy. I'm not a super health nut but I try to watch what I eat to maintain my figure. With the recent health craze, fast food establishments have been offering healthier options. I'm not really sold on the whole thing. If I want a salad or apple slices, I'm not going to a drive through. As a matter of fact, I only go vist a drive through after I've been drinking for a couple hours and can't help but crave whatever I can read at the time. Those drunken trips to fast food joints are few and far between so for the sake of this blog, they will not be taken into consideration. So why am I talking about fast food? Because there is something out there that can change my mind and I'm not sure why it has the power it does. You probably know what I'm talking about, don't you? Yep, you guessed it.

            The McRib is back! What is it about the McRib sandwich that is so enticing? It comes around every so often and has a dramatic affect on everyone's everyday life. McDonald's is reluctant to release sales figures for the McRib but that doesn't stop me from speculating widely. I will say with 95% certainty that overall sales go up 350% the first week the McRib is available. In simpler terms, let's say they are currently doing 1.5 million dollars a week in sales before the McRib is released. The first week that delicious hunk of pork is available to consumers, McDonald's sales would be 5.25 million. Those figures are made up to illustrate what a 350% increase in sales would look like. It's pretty ridiculous. So what is it about this sandwich that turns people into pork-craving mad men (or women)?

             I'll tell you what it is. The sandwich is fucking good! Plain and simple. A piece of pork shaped like a mini-rack of ribs, covered in BBQ sauce, onions and pickles is just downright delicious. And if we really needed another reason to hate the Germans, the McRib is offered all year round over there. Is that part of it? The fact that it only comes around every so often? If it was offered year round would it still be a big deal? I doubt it. I'm sure if it was always an option it would lose it's allure. But it's not, so enjoy it while it lasts. It will only be around until November 14th. So stock up! In honor of the amazing McRib I will be substituting a McRib for the usual Ham Sandwich when I get my shame-free Hand-jobs from the less fortunate.

You Can't Avoid Boyd - Chevy Chase is a God Damned Genius

Chevy Chase is a God Damned Genius (Wait, what?)

(When explaining his gambling losses in the movie “Dirty Work”)

Dr. Farthing: “I know there's really nobody to blame for this but myself, well, I don't know, maybe the Buffalo Bills, the Boston Red Sox, or Mr. T or, or the Jets...”
Mitch: “Wait a minute, Mr. T? Are you telling me that you bet on the fight in Rocky III, and that you bet against Rocky?”
Dr. Farthing: “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, my friend.”

“Dirty Work” taught us three things: never piss off a Saigon whore, Norm Macdonald should never star in a movie, and hindsight is 20/20. Unfortunately, hindsight is ruining one of the happier sports moments for me.

The Boston Red Sox suffered an embarrassing collapse down the stretch to end the baseball season. Up nine games on September 3^rd against the Tampa Bay Rays, Boston was eliminated from the playoffs on the last day of the season when they lost their game and Tampa won, blowing the biggest September lead in MLB history. Side note: you can expect a book to be coming out in the future about this past September/last day of the season as we saw two epic comebacks (or meltdowns, depending on who you cheered for) regarding the chase for the 2011 MLB postseason (which can be magnified if one of those epic comebacks, the St. Louis Cardinals, win the World Series this month.) Boston did not help their cause to make the playoffs, going 7-20 in the final month. Their starting pitching struggled all month, and their once strong bullpen was worn down by the end. Their offense was inconsistent at best and they relied on too many people they shouldn’t have. Considering my hatred of the Red Sox is comparable to Casey Rybeck’s hatred of terrorists on modes of transportation, I enjoyed it thoroughly. Then, the Boston Globe came along and ruined it for me.

Last week, the Boston Globe wrote a pretty revealing article on why the Red Sox choked. The article blasted the conditioning/mindset of their top starting pitchers (accused Josh Beckett, Jon Lester, and John Lackey of staying in the clubhouse rather than on the bench during games they weren’t pitching in, while they were drinking beers, eating fried chicken, and playing video games), blasted their manager (accused Terry Francona of being distracted about his recent divorce from his wife and questioning if he had developed an addiction to painkillers), and wondered if team chemistry was flawed (the article said some cliques formed in the clubhouse, and previous clubhouse leaders stayed quiet and isolated, reminding older fans of the “25 players, 25 cabs” days of the late 70’s). It was a great read, but the article offered many scapegoats for a team that surprisingly missed the playoffs. Lester admitted some mistakes were made throughout the season as the pitchers had a beer here and there, but denies they were getting drunk and abusing Popeye’s and Xbox. The fallout of this season resulted in Francona no longer being with the team as his option was not picked up and GM Theo Epstein on the verge of becoming the Chicago Cubs’ general manager.

This is where hindsight comes into play. Reading that article, you would completely understand why the Red Sox are out of the playoffs. Too many guys were goofing off and the manager had no control of the situation. However, the Red Sox were considered one of the best teams in baseball as recently as Labor Day. If the Red Sox went 9-18 down the stretch, that would be a horrible way to end the regular season. Yet, they would have made the playoffs and I guarantee you this article would have never been written. All this stuff would have still happened, but it would not have been brought to light by the media. If the Red Sox would have won the World Series, I am sure Beckett, Lester, and Lackey would have done commercials for KFC, mocking their fried chicken obsession. Francona would have still been a pill addict (allegedly), but still been the leader of the champion Red Sox. Instead, they blew a huge lead and people are paying the price. Remember, this was a team in 2004 known as “idiots” who drank Jack Daniels before big games (small sips, not Boyd quantities) and won the championship despite being down 3-0 in the ALCS (I know who they were playing, I just won’t write it here as I am fighting off tears.)

It’s easy to address something after the fact. Anyone can do that. The Red Sox are not in the playoffs because they played horrific baseball down the final 27 games, not from the highlights of the article. In my opinion, Francona did not do a good job managing the team this year. He’s always been known as a player’s manager, but it seemed his players took advantage of his style. You often hear how dictator-style managers typically do well early on, but fade as their message is ignored by the players. I believe the same principal applies here. Francona’s message was lost on this year’s squad. However, he’ll get a reprieve from the public after this smear campaign came out. Drugs and bitches didn’t make Francona a different manager this year. He just didn’t correct the ship, which should have been his first priority during the season. He figured his players would figure it out, yet they didn’t, and it cost him his job at the end.

If hindsight was available at the beginning, Dr. Farthing would have been rich courtesy of Rocky Balboa instead of dead from Mr. T, and I would have never dated the Crazy Chicken. Instead, it’s not and we have to live our life. In conclusion, fuck the Boston Red Sox.
       
           -Written by Marcus Boyd

What's Your 8K?

             Sunday morning and the Sun is shining. The grass is still wet from the morning dew and the initial chill is starting to disappear. We've all got our numbers on our shirts and our headphones in our ears. Now we just have to warm up and get ready for the start of the race. Everyone's warm-up is different. Some people jog up and down the street, some people stretch by themselves and some people get ready with a group of friends. Either way, the countdown to the race is on everyone's mind.

             How will I finish? Will I hit the wall too early? Will I trip on a rock and eat shit? Will the cramps get so bad I have to stop and walk? All these questions flood through my mind in the minutes before the race. It doesn't matter though, once that gun goes off and the race starts my mind becomes clear. I can only hear the music in my ears and the sound of my feet as they hit the pavement. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Cramps are going to come and muscle fatigue will try to show it's ugly face. Thoughts about stopping will crowd the gate to my mind and fight to get inside. None of that matters.

             Music in my ears and the rhythm of my stride are the only things I'm concentrating on. As long as that rhythm doesn't get slower I'm in good shape. I don't worry too much about the people around me or what place I'll finish. Every now and then I'll see a certain runner that I have to get in front of, either a much older person or anyone I feel I'm better than. Those are just some of the motivators that keep me from walking. And to me, that's the most important thing.

           On a certain level it just proves to me that I didn't give up. I kept running for the whole race. I didn't slow down and I sprinted across the finish line. Yea I felt like throwing up when it was over but that's the idea. You have to give it your all. You've heard the saying before, "Leave it all out on the field." Well in my case, it's leave it all out on the course.

           You need that in your life. Something you can do and do it all the way. You have to push yourself to max to find out what you're made of. It doesn't have to be running or biking or anything physical for that matter. It has to be something you can gauge your performance on and something that will push you to perform at your best. For me, it's running in competitive races. No, I don't come in first but I push my limits and leave it all out there. And I feel a hell of a lot better for it.

          So get out there and find your "race" and push your limits further than you ever have before. You'll be surprised what you'll capable of. It also makes you feel better about doing some of the things you might not be proud of. After the race this morning, I took my sweaty undercarriage to nearest 7-11 and got a Hand-job for a Ham Sandwich from the bum outside. I'll tell you what; after running an 8K, I felt pretty good about it.

You Can't Avoid Boyd - The Big Bang Sack Theory

The Big Bang Sack Theory

It’s a common situation. Everybody has a friend that hooks up with the same person from time to time. Despite their sexual relationship, both people claim they are not dating each other. I can deal with that, but there is one pressing question: What do you call this person? Booty call? That would work if it was 1998. A friend with benefits? That is more boring than this season of “The Office”. Fuck buddy? That’s too vulgar for most. Allow me to introduce the correct term for this person: bang sack.

I can’t take credit for this name. Stains came up with the name. However, I am going to give this thing life and let it grow before our very eyes. If you don’t think I am capable of that, you don’t know Boyd. In 2004, I made it socially acceptable at the Bloomsburg University to end every sentence with the word “son”. It caught like wildfire. To this day, I don’t have to buy a drink in Sewell, NJ as they know me as “The Original Son” in those parts.

Here is how you should classify your relationship with your sexcapades friend:

· One night stand: Your typical wham, bam, thank you ma’am. Hit it and quit it. One and done. Insert generic “I just had sex and need to get the hell out of here” saying here.

· Two night stand: A bang so nice, you did it twice. For whatever reason (alcohol), you both decide to give it another go. No one can fault you for making the same mistake again.

· Bang sack: If you have sex with the same person more than twice, that person is a bang sack, your favorite prostitute, or a person you are dating. There are no exceptions. It’s just a physical relationship based on the naughty, that’s it. Nothing romantic about it. You and your bang sack can go out in public together like friends would. You are friends, friends who see each other naked at the end of the night or the next morning or decide to partake in some form of afternoon delight. If feelings get involved, then you two are in a relationship.

If I come across as crude, so be it. I am just pointing out the facts. I am not hating on the bang sack either. I love the theory of the bang sack. Personally, I don’t believe a person can just be a bang sack in the long run; someone will eventually want a relationship. However, most people would disagree with that thought and I know a few people who are currently proving me wrong. If Pete Jamowski can keep pulling it off, I may have to re-evaluate my thoughts on this. To quote 1980’s philosopher Rocky Balboa after he ended the Cold War: “If I can change, and you can change, everybody can change.”

In conclusion, long live the bang sack sonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

          -Written by Marcus Boyd 

Rec Center vs. Fitness Center

                 I recently started working out again at a local Rec Center. What I realized in the first week of working out really made me think. What are some of the benefits of working out at a big Fitness Center as opposed to a local Rec Center? What are some of the benefits of working out at a local Rec Center as opposed to a big Fitness Center? The pros and cons might surprise you, then again they might not. We'll see how it goes.
          
                First I'll start in the locker room. I go to the gym after work and need to get changed into some workout clothes. Well, in a large Fitness Center you'll find lockers, toilets, showers and whatever else you'd expect to find. In my local Rec Center you'll find the same things in addition to a sauna. So, they are basically the same in the locker room. However, the way people act is a little different. Large Fitness Centers are all about working out. You go into the locker room to change, then you get out. After the workout maybe you shower, get changed and get out. In a Rec Center it's more laid back. By laid back I mean that every old man in there likes to walk around naked. To the shower, from the shower, to the toilets, from the toilets. Sometimes they just stand there with their towel over their shoulder letting it all hang out. I don't know why they feel it's appropriate but it's gross. 

              Next we'll go into the weight room. This is where the differences really stand out. At least in my case. A large Fitness Center has stacks and stacks or free weights with benches galore to use them on. They are nautilus machines all over the place and you can do whatever exercise you need to do when you need to do it. In a Rec Center, or at least in my Rec Center, there is one rack of free weights and three benches to use them on. There are two nautilus machines and you may or may not be able to do the exercise you want when you want to do it. Rec Centers place a little more emphasis on the atmosphere and with the average age of the members being around 84 years old, they don't really need all those weights. The amount of people in the weight room at one time is significantly lower in a Rec Center as well. Which is good and bad. Good because you have more room to move around, and you won't feel as if someone is always watching you. It's bad because they odds of seeing a hot little number working out are really low. In fact, I've been working out there for a week now and I've seen zero hot little numbers working out.

               Another thing that goes along with the above paragraph is, being in my lower late 20's, I'm one of the fittest guys in there. It really makes a difference when you're working out and don't have to look at the meat heads lifting a thousand pounds right next to you. That would have to go into the pros column for the Rec Center, but not seeing hot chicks working out is in the cons column so it's really tough. What is more important? Getting a good workout and feeling good about it? Or, seeing hot chicks in workout clothes getting the most out of their kickbacks? I know, I know it's tough. I'm going to go against the grain here and say the workout is more important. It sounds kinda gay, but I'm sorry it's just the truth.

              What about the staff? In a Rec Center the staff is comprised of local kids or residents that are just looking for a job. Maybe they have some kind of exercise background, probably not. Large Fitness Centers have very knoledgeable staff that are willing to help out if need be. I would have to give the edge to Fitness Centers on this one, but I don't really need the staff for anything so it doesn't matter to me.

              I didn't tally them up and I don't intend to but overall I would say I like working out at a local Rec Center instead of a large Fitness Center. My Rec Center also has a 12, 25 meter swimming pool which is an awesome after a hard weight training workout. So I'll continue to enjoy my local Rec Center with all the old people and inappropriate nudity. I'll also continue to enjoy going to the IHOP in Ballston and getting a Hand-job for a Ham Sandwich out back from the Spanish speaking staff.

You Can't Avoid Boyd - Dropping the H-Bomb

Dropping the H-Bomb

Monday Night Football has always started for me with Hank Williams Jr. screaming “Are you ready for some football?!?!”, and then breaking into his football-altered country hit “All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight". Well, it is safe to say we will never hear that intro ever again. On Monday morning, Williams Jr. made some controversial comments on the TV show “Fox & Friends”. When talking about a planned gold outing with Republican Speaker of the House John Boehner and Democrat President Barack Obama, Williams Jr. said “That would be like Hitler playing golf with (current Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin) Netanyahu. Not hardly. In the shape this country is in?” When the hosts asked for clarification on the analogy, Williams Jr. mentioned how many people considered Obama the enemy and that he was comparing the President to the leader of the Aryan Nation. ESPN decided to pull his MNF intro from this week’s game and distanced themselves from the hullabaloo. Late Monday night, Hank Williams Jr. issued a statement saying his comments were “misunderstood” and he was just trying to make a comment on how ridiculous the pairing was and how he respects the President.

This is not the first Adolf Hitler comment to get someone in trouble. When talking about how then-current Michigan football coach Rich Rodriguez was a good leader despite his bad coaching record in 2008, ESPN broadcaster Lou Holtz sarcastically said “Ya know, Hitler was a good leader too.” Holtz backtracked immediately from the comment and issued an apology the next day. He was not reprimanded, unlike ESPN columnist Jemele Hill. Hill was suspended from her ESPN article when she posted the following editorial on how she could not root for the Boston Celtics in the 2008 playoffs: "Rooting for the Celtics is like saying Hitler was a victim.” Megan Fox was fired from the “Transformers” movie series when she compared director Michael Bay to Hitler.

Celebrities need to stop mentioning Hitler’s name. I understand what Williams Jr. meant with his analogy (I don’t understand his explanation afterwards.) It was a very awkward pairing. I understand what Lou Holtz meant. Hitler was effective at leading men. Unfortunately, it was for the most fucked up reason of all time. No matter how appropriate the comment may be, bringing up Hitler is always going to come off in poor taste and allow people to think you are comparing that person to the man who tried to eliminate the Jews. Even if that is not the intent of the comparison, it is how it appears. Hitler even ruined the little mustache look. Despite Michael Jordan’s attempt to make it stylish, it was always be referenced to Germany’s most famous failed artist. Hitler equals bad, it’s as simple as that. Just like Schiavo means not moving or Cleary means secret fag.

              -Written by Marcus Boyd