Giving Props

This post is all about giving props (or "dap" as Tony & Mike would say) to those who deserve a little pick me up.

First of all: New Orleans. Yeah so the majority of your city was underwater, and yeah a ton of your inhabitants lost all their belongings, and yeah a good portion lost their lives, and yeah your sports teams are probably on the way out, and yeah it's likely that the population and city structure will never recover to the pre-Katrina days... But fuck it if that's gonna stop you from chugging some bourbon, stripping naked and raising hell in the streets! Granted, there may still be widespread devastation but let's be honest... Mardi Gras only comes around once a year. Now seriously, who can argue with that?

Next, Excel. Oh how I love this ingenious little spreadsheet program. You have helped me to yet again avoid studying for a final that (at 80%) could make or break my grade, and yet again allow me to make a traveshammockery of the MAC program. Type type type and voila! The answer appears. Does it get any better than that? I submit that it does not.

Third, the Olympics. The Torino Games have occupied my time and my mind from 8pm to midnight every evening for the past 16 days. Only the Olympics could ignite a sudden and heated interest in the outcome of a competition between women sliding plastic doorstops toward a giant target painted on an ice-rink... or for two guys in skin-tight jumpsuits careening down an icy chute on top of one another at 80 mph. When else do you flip on the TV and say, "oh sweet, the biathalon is on!" (The sport that combines my two favorite outdoor activities, snow-skiing and rifle shooting). Figure skating, short track, downhill mogul? Hell yeah bro, count me in! And who deserves more "dap" than Bob Costas, the ringleader of this subzero extravaganza, who regularly stepped up every night to verbally lambaste any US competitor he felt wasn’t living up to the standards (he) set for them: see Shauni Davis, Lindsey Jacobellis and most hilariously Bode Miller on the night before the closing ceremony. But in all seriousness to the spirit of international athletic competition... where the hell was the Jamaican Bobsled team? Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme, get on up, it's bobsled time... cool runnings!!! Classic movie. Major dap.

Finally, I have to give respect to Ben & Jerry's "Karamel Sutra" ice cream, and namely those who bring in a pint to class and sit and eat it. First of all, this ice cream flavor is classic. "Would you like caramel swirls in your ice cream sir?" Fuck that, I want a 1 inch diameter column of caramel injected into my pint of ice cream, and then I want caramel flavored ice cream surrounding it on one side! Seriously, this ice cream will literally knock your pants off with a caramelsplosion. Secondly, it's not everyday that you see someone bring in a pint of ice cream to class and take it down. That takes balls. Most people bring sandwiches, burritos or pizza slices. It takes some rocks to throw caution to the wind and say, "Bullshit on that. I'm eating ice cream." Massive dap.

Undergrads don't believe in staplers

I would say that on average 16 of the 20 homeworks I grade for my BA 71 kids each week are staple-less. I'm not sure if this is some sort of organized rebellion on behalf of the undergrad business student community... some way of sticking it to the man perhaps?

Is it sheer laziness or do they object to perforating the pristine white corners of the pages? It's quite a shock to flip through a homework assignment that is extraordinarily neatly written, every number is perfect to the decimal, and then the upper left hand corner is a jumble of folded paper.

There is one girl though... she is like my protege. Not only does she staple her paper perfectly each time... she uses red staples. Breathtaking. I will give the class some credit though... they are very ingenious in inventing new ways to keep the papers together, including but not limited to: the triple roll fold, the double fold tear-back and flip, the multi-directional fold, and my personal favorite... stealing my paper clip off the podium and putting it on their paper right in front of me. Now that takes some rocks.

Seriously though, how much is a stapler? Two, maybe three dollars? Instead I find myself stapling their papers for them. I feel like a soccer mom... and those little brats are using up all my staples.

I'm an Old Fucker

When I hit 21 I was ecstatic. Such a milestone in American culture (despite the fact that I had been drinking for years). Then last year I rolled into 22... still not too bad, only one year removed from 21...

As of today (yesterday) I hit that devastating 23 mark. Two years removed from my mid 20's... man I might as well pull the trigger and end it now, the good times are over, haha. It was an interesting birthday. Certainly better than recent years and a goddamn sight better than the February of 2003.

But... very weird. Friday I spend the afternoon (aside from getting pulled over) eating at a Japanese steakhouse with my mom. Then we went bowling?!? Yes.... and what's even more hilarious than that...

I busted my motherfuckin ass on the first throw of the day. I wish I had it on video because even I would be laughing at this one. I went up for my first throw and as I got right up the foul line there was something sticky on the floor and my right foot came to an abrupt stop. So I hurl the ball down the lane with one hand and try and step with my left foot to regain my balance. The only problem was that I my momentum was carrying me past the foul line...

For those of you who have never stepped on a freshly oiled bowling lane past the foul line... once you take that first step, it's over. More slick than ice or an over-greased Italian mobster. So, think back to the Charlie Brown Christmas Special when Peppermint Patty pulls the ball out from Charlie Brown. Now imagine me as CB only on a bowling lane flying up in the air and landing on my side.

Hi-fuckin-larious. The guy dispensing the bacteria infested shoes gave me an 8/10 on my landing. Clutch. But like a true olympian, I fought through the pain and finished both games. Today however, I only got 2 mins into my run before I thought I was going to cough up blood. I have a whole new respect for football players.

Also this year I got sit through two of those cheesy "happy birthday" song things at restaurants where they give you a free scoop of ice cream in return for public humiliation. At Kabuto I had to stand up for 3 mins and flap my arms like a chicken while they sung a Japanese birthday song. In the words of Sergeant Roger Murtaugh, "I'm getting too old for this shit..."

Yesterday it was 75 outside. Today I woke up in Stokesdale and there was snow on the ground and it looked like a goddamn blizzard outside. What the hell is going on with this global warming stuff anyway? Tonight... more Mexican food and lots of cerveza with the sis. I actually drank a 44 oz beer at El Rodeo, clutch.

This week has been balls out. Despite the some uncontrollable events, I'm havin a fuckin blast. Ten days to go, I might just goddamn make it. Who woulda thought? Fuckin eh.

That Funny Feeling In My Tummy... From A Cop

On my way back to Greensboro on Friday I had a unique experience. I was literally 5 minutes into the trip home and had just gotten to the point where I-85 and I-40 merge. Well, there was this line of cars in the middle lane and I was in the left lane. Some guy was riding my bumper coming up on the merge, so I stomped on the gas and floored past the cars into the middle lane.

As I did so, I glanced in my rear view mirror and noticed that for some reason all the cars behind me were slowing down really quickly. Then, out of the corner of my eye I caught the reason... Bright blue lights flashing and siren blaring, a State Patrolman came zooming off the I-40 on ramp right up behind me. I glanced down at my speedometer... 92 mph. Shit. Looking back in the rear view he is frantically motioning for me to pull over.

Knowing I'm totally busted I decide, "well fuck it, at least I'll pull over like a conservative driver." So I turned down the 50 Cent CD (yes that's what I was listening to) and put on the right turn signal and slowly started merging over to the right shoulder.

Much to my surprise, before I had even finished stopping my car, the cop had already leapt out of his and was halfway toward my driver's side window. So I wind down the window and before I can even say, "yes officer, what seems to be the problem?" he says, "hey, think you can take it down to 65 back there?"

So I was like, "Yeah, I'm sorry man, I was trying to get out of the left lane and merge past that line of cars in the center lane. I didn't realize I was going that fast." He then replies, "yeah I understand, but there's no hurry. Just try and keep it down to 65, huh?" And as tried to respond, "sure, no problem." He turned and abruptly walked back to his car and turned off the blue lights.

In shock I sat there for a minute waiting for him to come back over and write me a ticket but he didn't. Ok.... finally some retribution from this wretched month that has plagued me all my life. So I put that bitch in drive and was out... at a speedy 65 mph, haha.

But the story doesn't end there... About 4 miles down the road I can see him coming up in my rear view mirror and immediately check my speed back down from 75 to 65. (It would be really embarrassing to get pulled by the same cop twice for speeding w/in 5 miles). So as he passes me on the left he looks over and grins, and I grin back. He shoots up ahead into a group of cars which immediately slow down in unison upon spotting him.

He pulls into the right lane and ducks behind a truck in the hopes of hiding from the traffic flow and trying to snag an extra ambitious driver weaving through the log jam of cars, unbeknownst to his presence. Meanwhile I am sitting back doing 65 enjoying the hell out of this show. After about 3-4 miles he gives up and pulls off on the exit ramp.

Immediately everyone speeds up as soon as they see he has left the highway. As I pass the entrance ramp for the same exit I think to myself, "man, how balsy would it be if he went straight through the exit and came back on the highway and snagged some of these bitches." Not 2 seconds after that thought ran through my mind but I spot the sliver cruiser flying up the entrance ramp right into the back of the (now speeding) pack of cars.

Son goes flying by on my right side and slips through the second group of cars obviously in pursuit of one of those hot rodders who had been sitting back waiting for him to get off the interstate. Three miles later... I pass him with some punk ass in a Honda pulled over on the right side of the road.

It was at that point that I realized, I would have been glad to have gotten a ticket from this man. A true interstate flow strategist. Clever, conniving and heartless. My kinda guy. Wow, now THAT'S a man crush. If only I would have written down his name...

The Streak Ends at 33

Starting back on the 13th of January I had worked out every day of the week for over 4 consecutive weeks. Be it waking up early on a weekend, going at 7pm striaght after work, or going at 2am, I never missed a day. Alas, as of last night that streak has come to an end at 33. Largely because yesterday my left knee felt like a water ballon and making it up the b-school steps was more than challenging.

But it was an amazing run. I've been in the gym 39 out of the last 40 days... all but 6 days in 2006. Still not impressed? You will be.

Me, the guy who hates running, who refused to jog across the street when the angry red hand started to flash and oncoming cars gunned their engines for the chance to take me down... has started running. Regularly.

And the most amazing thing is that I'm getting better, much better. Whereas up until Christmas, running a mile was quite an accomplishment, I am at the point where I can jog 2-3 miles with relative ease. Which brings me to my new goal for March: running a 5k. And then, running a 5k in less than 23 mins. Thats roughly a 7:30 mile pace. For me, that would be quite an accomplishment.

And as for working out... well today begins the new streak. 34 days here I come. I hope that even despite a trip to Vegas, some end of Mod IV drinking, and the occasional Pizza Hut buffett I can get to where I'll be running 5 miles everyday by the end of the MAC program. That way I can be in extraordinary shape when I leave for New York and leap head-first into the age of luxurious and indulgent food. In derivatives class we would call this plan a "cardiovascular hedge."

Quesadillin' Out of Control

I have been overwhelmed by an urge to cook mexican food over the past few weeks, especially quesadillas. This time of the year most people are catching the flu bug (or bird flu if you are in Asia), but I have been snared by the infamous Quesadilla Bug, which consists mostly of being obsessed and addicted to making quesadillas.

In fact I just had one. And the more time I spend with someone who enjoys good food, the more the Quesadilla Bug takes over my mind. Alas. I could soon be lost in the delicious blended taste of chicken, melted cheese, peppers and flour tortillas.

So keep me in your thoughts dear reader(s) as I battle this terrible affliction. And more importantly... pray that I don't catch the dumpling/fried rice bug again. That is true disaster.