To: Jon BoomBoom Greenberg

I'm sorry I didn't reply to your facebook post before I deleted my account. It was wrong of me to do and I apologize. It was a good wallpost too, so there should've been extra incentive to reply before bouncing off that site. My apologies Jon.

Sincerely,

Ry for Ry



The author of this blog does not take any readership for granted and does not condone not responding to wallposts

Good Riddance Facebook

I am proud to say that after 4 years, I have finally cut the cord with one of the most popular websites ever invented. For every good thing that facebook ever did for me, it did a handful of things that were detrimental to my well-being. So I'm saying goodbye.

Too much drama, too many hours wasted, too much internet communication with other individuals over actual facetime. I fell right into this online phase for a good portion of my formative years. I am eager to see what I can accomplish as a writer, musician, neighbor, brother and son after breaking away from the facebook ball and chain. The hours put to something better than scrolling through pictures or reading people's wall posts or profiles will be plentiful, and I plan to capitalize on them. I'm not saying everyone who has a facebook account is a louse and is wasting their life. I'm just making the point that I was, and had to take action.

Facebook was so absurdly addicting, just like the internet as a whole. Mark Zuckerberg knows this, and therefore made it difficult to quit. You can't actually click a button and delete your account. It's a process. You "deactivate" it for 14 days before it's actually gone. (For this reason, it may still look like I am part of the facebook community for the next half month, but don't be fooled I am absolutely not) This gives someone like me 2 weeks to be tempted to go on, falling into the trap and getting instantly hooked right in. And for what? Sure, there are good features about the site, but I survived 19 years without it and plan to go back to those good old days before I got sucked in.

Happy B-Day V-Dub

Dear Val,

Sorry you couldn't make my open house fiesta. I was clearly unable to attend the DC Choir Tour for a multitude of reasons, but in lieu of this have posted a heartfelt and soulful birthday present to you. Also, the idea of possibly making your sister awkward with a male vocal/acoustic guitar combo was absolutely too good to pass up. So here it is...





If you'd like an awkward birthday song written about you please leave a comment below or email me at ryanl@awkwardbirthdaysongs.com I will be happy to oblige...

Altoids and Lebron James' Pregame Baby Powder Routine

I eat altoids like a fiend, and that's putting it mildly. They give you the best buy for your buck and are the best breath-freshening tool ever invented. They are as addictive as crack, but you have to make sacrifices for a mint that's that stupendous. Here are some of the things you have to know about my relationship with altoids:




•The official way to ask me if you would like to have one of my altoids is, "Can I cop a 'toid" If you don't ask this way, you may receive an altoid from me, but I can't promise you that it will be with a smile on my face. My man Jake Kurz has by far the best approval rating as far as requesting one of these minty delicacies properly.

•I consume on average approximately 2.3 boxes of altoids per month which averages out to something like 156 toids every 4 business weeks.

•My mint use and altoid use started at different times. My mint use became very heavy when I used to be a cigarette smoker, and continues now because I am a heavy coffee drinker. (Coffee-breath is pretty vile) My altoid use, however, was mainly because I smelled 2 different people's good breath (Sarah Mayo and Shannon Gallagher, for anyone who would know the names) from a foot or so away, and asked them for a mint. Wouldn't ya know, they both whipped out a pack of A-bombs.

(SIDE NOTE ALERT SIDE NOTE ALERT TANGENT! TANGENT! ::: The kid on the computer across from me is named Hank. "See ya later Hank," his friend just said to him. hahaha HANK! I just realized how uncommon that name is. How many kids are named "Hank" these days? Props to that young fella, I have no doubts that he is a cool individual)

•I once wrote a poem for a Poetry class at Temple about Altoids. Actually I'm going to track it down and post it below...one sec...
(5 minutes later)
A 50g pack of that good shit will do me right
Let me give you a hint, it's strong and it's white
These lines do more than meet the eyes at first glance
Oh you're curious to what this substance is I suppose
It's the kind you can taste as it penetrates the nose
Don't knock it till you've tried it, just give it one chance
Stupid, I write stupid poems sometimes

•I've never met an altoid I did not get along with, although allow me to provide a list in very climactic descending order. (NOTE: Chocolate not included cuz they're not classic toid style)

5)Cinnamon....not a huge fan of cinnamints
4)Wintergreen...it's ok but it wouldn't get "best man" status at my wedding
3)Creme de Menthe...tasty treat, a bit exotic, its kind of a mood thing, like chinese food
2)Peppermint...classic choice, can't go wrong, they're the originals
1)Spearmint...they're my second favorite green thing after the Eagles. Although given the recent Birds moves, they may top the list

•Lastly, I've come to realize that most times you open a box of altoids the powder explodes out of the box, not too flagrantly, but kind of like 2 seconds of minty fireworks. It's eerie how much this eruption resembles Lebron James pregame ritual where he tosses the baby powder into the air, as fans watch the simple sight with wide eyes. It's such an awesome sight, so majestic. So strong...

Maybe even Curiously strong?

These Are a Few of My Favorite (Open House) Things

So I it's that time again, the time of year that makes everyone happy. Where front porch lounging is a must and the beer and grilled goods are plentiful. I'm not talking about spring, I'm talking about my open house. And as of 5:00am today, the joint is officially mine. To kick off this event, let me jot down a few of my favorite things about having an open house.


1) The DJ Lacey & Rob Critchlow Lovefest.
Probably one of the best parts of my open house, or any time these two are together. It doesn't happen often, so when it does, it's all the more glorious. This bromance (I can't believe I just used that ridiculous term) seems to get more provocative with each time the two are together and boozin. DJ and Robbie give credence to the notion that opposites attract haha. The last time this magical duo were together at my open house, the Phillies had a pretty OK win in GAME 5 OF THE NLCS, AND MOVED ON TO THE WORLD SERIES!!! Some of the conversations that are had between these 2 I wish I had on tape recorder, cause they would be hysterical.

2) Dave Anglin's propensity for nudity and inflicting bodily harm on himself.
If Dave wasn't trying to get naked in front of whatever females attended, or didn't almost blow a hand off, it just would not be an open house.

3) The Very Caucasian Trip to Philly Flavors
There's always a trip to the best water ice spot in town, generally by about 8-11 suburbans who stroll down to get their fill of the summer treat. The spot is just plain awesome when the weather's getting nice

4) MVP Baseball.
I think this one speaks for itself really, no need to go into further detail.

I better see you this weekend or sometime over the next 12 days I have the place to myself. Much love to the attendees and to the people who DID NOT put themselves in the "Maybe Attending" category on the facebook event page.

City Cows

So it's been an awful night, and I'm still up thinking about stuff at 3:30ish in the morning. Sometimes at points like this I'll write some new stuff, but other times I'll glance over some old stuff and it'll really hit home. The latter happened to me tonight, and I figured I'd post it on da Blog for public consumption. "City Cows" is a song I wrote about life, specifically about the times when it feels so overwhelming you can't do anything but crack a lame joke and laugh hysterically to ease the stress. (I truthfully don't even know if all the lyrics will make sense to everyone, but interpret them as you wish) Anyways, I hope you hear this song down the road, but if I die before I get a chance to play it for you, at least the lyrics are up to contemplate....



One picked up a business suit
One picked up some working gloves
One picked up a bottle
One picked up a gun to kill
One picked up a plastic will
One picked up a child

They say you’re goin nowhere fast
Why don’t you go nowhere slow
Maybe we could meet up in no-mans-land
I don’t know what the future holds
Im not tryin to complain
Its just that Im not good with change

So I’ll wait for these answers till the cows come home
That could be a long, long time
Because I live in the city
I think I’ll search for my direction along this road now
I’m tryna find my niche
Could you tell me where I could pick one up

One picked up some body highs
One picked up somebody’s lies
Just avoided the future
One was lost but now is found
One picked up a cap and gown
And one sat in confusion

They say you’re goin nowhere fast
Why don’t you go nowhere slow
Maybe we could meet up in no-mans-land
We could grab a burrito
Or whatever other food
Just might sit right with your mood

So I’ll wait for these answers till the cows come home
That could be a long, long time
Because I live in the city
I think I’ll search for my direction along this road now
I’m tryna find my niche
Could you tell me where I could pick one up

All these questions they’re
Coming back again
Oh uncertainty
Creepin in again
Oh and where to go
Coming back again
Oh and I don’t know
Coming back again

My Tuesday Award Ceremony

Remember people, I always say Tuesday is the worst day of the week. Now that I've almost finished another Tuesday in my life, I will spew out some of my random thoughts in award form (a la Bill Simmons) Here we go....

The Pale-can-be-sexy Award: To myself, for my continued lifestyle of pasty whiteness while not loosing an ounce of overall sex-appeal. Working indoors, studying indoors, and spending my freetime indoors have all contributed to my ability to live up to nicknames such as "Polar Bear" and "Lamppost". I may be blinding to look at, but I can still put the "hot" in white hot light.


The Mr.Clutch Award: To my boy Tom Buchanan, who called and texted me while I was in class to let me know the Phillies World Series trophy was on campus. Thanks to him I got a couple pics with one of the most meaningful man-made objects I will ever come in contact with. Big ups brother

The Completely Out-of-Character Move Award: To Temple University, who had the completely uncharacteristic foresight to schedule (at least I think they took the initiative) themselves as a stop on the Trophy route. One of my 4 good memories from my 17+ years at this "University"

The Unexpected Surprise of the Day Award: To the blabbermouths in my PR class who relentlessly talk about celebrity-gossip-type stuff (what connection it has with public relations is yet to be discovered) while the professor openly says that the quicker we get through the material, the quicker we're finished class. Today, they shockingly stayed on topic and we got out of class an hour and change early. Kudos!

The "How did we get here award": To me and my Mom, who ended up in a restaurant for dinner tonight where our combined ages were less than the average patron in the joint. The place literally looked like a nursing home cafeteria.

The Rightfully Gigantic Expectations Award: To my open house, especially Friday night. The hype is unprecedented, and judging from the guest list and the projected weather forecast, it will astonishingly live up to it (KNOCKING VIGOROUSLY ON WOOD). I couldn't think of a better way to kick off spring, and take us into baseball season. The excited sentiment has been pouring in. I'm lovin it like McDonalds.

And I hope to see all your sorry behinds there...

"Sounds Like Somebody's Got a Case of the Mondays"

If you don't know what movie that line is from, you're missing out on one of life's most significant cinematic lessons. I don't think that any flick ever created has spoken into my life quite as loudly as Office Space. We are now reaching the 10-year anniversary of a comedy with unprecedented rewatchability. In fact, not only is it rewatchable, but like a fine wine or a late-bloomer, it gets better with age. I'm going to attempt to break down why I think that this masterpiece does not get due credit, not just as a comedy, but as an indictor of present day cultural work norms.


First off, everything surrounding the typical work day as depicted in Office Space is completely on point. It's the horrifying morning commute, sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, constantly checking to make sure that you're not late to a job that you despise. It's the feeling you get on the weekends, that you can't even enjoy them because they just go way to fast. It's the monotonous cycle that the rest of life takes because it seems to be scheduled around a dead-end career.


Then you make it to the office itself, where every character represents a person that you may encounter in real life, including that woman who is way too peppy for being in that enviroment, walking around on the first day of the week uttering something annoying like, "Sounds like somebody's got a case of the Mondays". The boss is a real you-know-what (or maybe you don't-know-what if you're one of the few lucky enough to nerve have a jerk boss) and you'd love to tell him how you really feel but you want to keep your job, as terrible as it may be, because at least it pays the bills. The work itself is pretty much the same thing all the time, and you just pretend to be busy when you don't have anything to do so you won't be bothered by anyone in a position of authority.


When did the average man's work become synonymous with a 9-5 hell?I'm really not sure, but I guess it must have occured to people in the early to mid-90s when someone thought up the comic that the movie was based on. I am so glad I started working with kids, especially ones with disabilities, because it shapes your view of the world in the exact opposite way that Office Space does. I hope that people on the fence about career options watch the movie and contemplate whether they are one of a select few that could handle life as a cubicle-worker at a big corporation.

I've worked office jobs and know alot of other people who have or still do and I can tell you that this quote from Office Space's lead character Peter Gibbons is a good one:
"The thing is, Bob, it's not that I'm lazy. It's just that I just don't
care.......[my real motivation] is not to be hassled. That and the fear of losing my job, but y'know, Bob, it will only make someone work hard enough not to get fired."

So I think this all came into my head because I remembered that one line about Mondays, and well, it is a Monday, so I figured I would rant about my fear of someday getting stuck at a job like Peter Gibbons and the millions of real life people who hate their work. Just some thoughts as I procrastinate on some schoolwork....sorry, this blog kind of sucked. I think I'm forcing the issue a bit because I haven't had much to write about. I promise you, the next one up will be far more interesting, so stay reading homie.

March Madness Keeps Me Up at Night

Filling out about 5 brackets definitely was not enough....not for a sports nerd like me. So in the wee hours of Thursday morning, I decided that I would pick every single game in the 2009 NCAA Tournament against the spread. If I had it my way, the Thursday and Friday that the first round of the tourney is played on would be completely free on my schedule every year. Alas, I have school, and work, and other dreadful obligations, but I will catch as much as I can.

March Madness is the official end of the sports lull that happens after the Super Bowl and before Opening Day of the baseball season. It breaks you out of the monotony, the last little burst that gets you to that beautiful, balmy spring air.

I don't know much about half these teams, I'll admit. That said, I enjoy prognosticating more than anyone you know. So take a peak at the 2009 NCAA Tournament First Round Picks Against the spread.


DAY 1 THURSDAY
03/19/09 MemphisU -20
12:30 ET
03/19/09 Maryland +1.5
15:00 ET
03/19/09 Oklahoma -16.5
21:45 ET
03/19/09 Clemson -5
19:15 ET
03/19/09 Purdue -8.5
14:35 ET
03/19/09 MississippiSt +6
17:05 ET
03/19/09 WKentucky +5
22:00 ET
03/19/09 Gonzaga -13
19:30 ET
03/19/09 Binghamton +21.5
21:45 ET
03/19/09 Texas -4
19:15 ET
03/19/09 NorthCarolina -25
14:55 ET
03/19/09 LSU -2
12:25 ET
03/19/09 Connecticut -20.5
15:05 ET
03/19/09 TexasA&M +3
12:35 ET
03/19/09 American +16.5
19:25 ET
03/19/09 VaCommonwealth +7.5
21:55 ET






DAY 2 FRIDAY
03/20/09 MichiganSt -17
21:55 ET
03/20/09 BostonCollege +2.5
19:25 ET
03/20/09 Kansas -10
12:35 ET
03/20/09 Dayton +9
15:05 ET
03/20/09 Missouri -13
15:05 ET
03/20/09 UtahSt +4.5
12:35 ET
03/20/09 FloridaSt -2.5
22:00 ET
03/20/09 PortlandSt +10.5
19:30 ET
03/20/09 Arizona +1
19:15 ET
03/20/09 WakeForest -8
21:45 ET
03/20/09 Syracuse -12
12:20 ET
03/20/09 Temple +5.5
14:50 ET
03/20/09 Louisville -21
19:15 ET
03/20/09 Siena +3
21:45 ET
03/20/09 ETennSt +20
15:00 ET
03/20/09 Tennessee -2
12:30 ET

The Only "Science" I Enjoy is the Incubus Album

Science sucks. I have come to this conclusion after years of trying unsuccessfully to get through different areas of the subject without pulling my hair out. Certain people grasp specific types of ideas (geometric, mathematic etc.) better than others and scientific one are usually lost on me. It's unbelievably frustrating to work with something that you do not understand, and do not particularly care to understand anytime soon. Why don't we let the Indiana Jones and Bill Nye types stick to their thing, and I'll be content to do mine (whatever that consists of is still up for debate). Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind having an elementary knowledge so I'm not throwing random chemicals together and causing massive bodily or property damage to someone (unintentionally). But how bout we save the complicated stuff, the garbage that no average student really needs to know, the the big guns.

Why does this subject come up today, of all days, you ask? Because my friend, I have embarked on one of my most arduous tasks as a writer on this day: I'm going to B.S. my way through a Physics experiment.

"But Ryan, you can't B.S. your way through a Physics experiment, you're talking about science, not history or something....that's like impossible"
"Yes it may be like impossible, but is it really impossible?"

I guess we are going to find out. See here's the thing, I could've gone through an inordinate amount of trouble to get someone's help with the assignment, then struggled through the concepts, which ultimately, I would never use again. Or I could challenge myself to do the actual tests after making a completely random hypothsis, and use whatever small edge I may have with a words to my advantage. Clearly, the latter option was far more appealing, and did not entail me awkwardly meeting someone new from the "University" I attend.

To conclude this thought, I will offer the reader a little morsel for thought consumption. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

....juuuuuuuuuuuuuust kidding haha. My advice is to leave science to the experts, Indiana Jones, Bill Nye, and Incubus.

Anyways, I have once again become as negligent with my blog as I am with my studies. I'll try to step it up again and bang out more than 1 a week. As usual thanks for checkin in.

Cosmopolitan Shmozmopolitan

Listen here you Cosmo editor, you! I got you all figured out. Not only do I know the intricacies of your sleezy publication's framework, but I am about to expose them. That's right faithful blog-browser, you are about to get the recipe for making your own Cosmopolitan, the magazine not the drink **although consumption of either in large quantities may result in looking/sounding less intelligent**

Ingredients:

• 1 female celebrity showing off her flawless looks with a smile that says, "Look, I'm a simple girl just like you, even though you'll never achieve my social status. Let's read Cosmo together!"
• 3 flashy colors highlighting exaggerated font sizes that will catch the eye of a passing shopper
• 5 Sex related stories with edgy headlines that will arouse your curiosity AND his!
(Other examples of acceptable headlines include: "69 ways to WOW him in the bedroom" or "13 moves that will make him feel lucky" or "10 sexy tricks that will make you a 10 in the sac")
• 8 Love/Dating Tip stories that girls believe will really be the "end all, be all" to developing a successful relationship
• 3 Fitness/Fashion stories to give females everywhere false hope that doing 5 minutes of Cosmo-recommended exercises will give you the same body as that celebrity who pays for personal trainers and dietitians/cooks
• 4 Hunks of the Month to give their "expert" advice about what men really want




Directions:

•Superimpose photograph of hot celebrity babe so that her perfect head is covering the "OPO" in the middle of the word "Cosmopolitan". Girls are already hooked, they know what magazine it is already!
•Look at old issues of the magazine and re-word the cover stories
•Fill stories with quotes from "real" people and even realer doctors, with ground-breaking insights such as, "research shows that men think about sex" or "studies suggest that women are generally the more emotional of the two sexes"
•Sell 75% of the pages in your magazine to advertisers who hope to rope in young girls with empty promises


So why am I such an expert in the field of Cosmo mag, you ask? Well, back in the day, on slow Saturdays when I worked at the neighborhood pharmacy with my boy Shawn, we used to pick the magazine apart to kill time. After a few months passed and we digested our share of articles (and hangover-curing gatorades) we became Cosmo connoisseurs. On top of knowing the magazine, we studied female response to it when they saw the pharmacy had it in stock. Some would pick it up, flip through while waiting for their ortho-tricyclen, then put it down and go on their merry way, contraceptives in hand. Others would be so entranced they would have to buy the jawn. So don't say I don't have credentials to write an article on the mag.




Look, I got no beef with Cosmo. It's kind of like the female version of Maxim or Men's Health I guess. I actually get a laugh or 7 every time I take a peek at the latest recycled material. I've just been thinking recently about how easy it is to formulate a plan to draw money from a certain demographic. Cosmo is the perfect example of suckering in one type of spending population by being the first in the field. Eventually, I'm going to get an idea as downright simple as the Cosmo formula and make bank. Either that or I'll do something constructive for society.

Well, I'm going to stop writing because, to no one's surprise, I'm rambling without real purpose at this point. Just remember the next time you pick up that second-rate publication that yours truly may be writing a piece in it entitled "Seventeen scintillating suggestions to spice up your sex-savvy psyche"...or something like that. I'm outta here, like Vladimir.

Stan Drinks

Well, truth be told, Stan actually does not drink. "Stan Drinks" is the name of the guy I got in a fender bender with today. (By the way, this whole situation is extremely ironic given item #2 that I wrote about in my previous blog) When he told me his name, I was sidetracked for a good 15 minutes thinking about how cool it would be to have a name like that.

(Smoothest name ever in a landslide was some kid in my film class last semester named "Mason Cash". There is no doubt in my mind this will be my alias down the road. That is of course, whenever I find myself in a situation where having an alias is absolutely necessary)

After this little name diversion, I came back to reality and realized that this was an annoying situation that would clearly throw off the flow of my day. Making the best of the wait for the police to show up, I talked to Stan for a good while. We found some common ground. We both went to Temple, we both were PKs (that's "Preacher's Kid" for all my Buddhist peeps reading) and we both were into writing music.

After a good 45-minute wait the police officer finally showed up. The dude was huge, and while approaching us in the 5-degree winter air, put on one of those crazy-looking raccoon hunter hats with the fuzzy ear flaps. He spoke with an accent from an Eastern European Country, of course I couldn't tell which one, ignorant American that I am. This guy single-handedly made me start questioning if I was awake or in a dream.

Eventually, I got back in the swing of my day after realizing that it was not a dream, but I always seem to ask myself the purpose of these chance encounters. There's no doubt that Stan or the cop who we'll call "Igor" played a crucial role in my life. I'm not trying to be one of those existential philosophizing types, but I definitely think that the little things that happen in life are more important than we realize when they first happen. We will never know why certain things happen, but they do happen for a reason, even if that reason is merely to delay my highly anticipated piece on Cosmo magazine haha. I'm out like Guinness Stout...

Meaningful Insights on the Blizzard of 2009

Before I get this puppy started, I just wanted to toot my own horn for a second. We are through 61 days in 2009, and I have posted 22 times. (If I continue writing at this blistering pace, I will exceed my favorite writer Bill Simmons' lifetime column total in 8 months) I am really putting the pressure on myself to continue wasting countless hours of my life writing on this thing. Not to mention everyone else's time who reads this propaganda, all 6 of you...
TOOT TOOT!!
But with that little appetizer consumed, let's get to the main course, shall we?

The blizzard of 2009 is upon us. It has arrived in full force, all 5 menacing inches of it. Had a few questions to throw out there that always arise in my head when we hit these perilous winter months, and the ground is covered with the cocaine of precipitation...










1) Why does anyone still believe meteorologists' predictions about how much snow we’re going to get? The number of inches is clearly just a conversation piece that never seems to reflect the actual number. My Dad has an interesting theory on this that is right far more often than it is wrong. He says when you hear the projected total inches, you take the smaller number, then divide it by 2, and you will be relatively close to the actual snowfall accumulation by the end of the “storm”. For instance, if the forecast calls for 4-8 inches, you’re probably going to get closer to 2. I like this theory, like I said, it’s on point more times than not.

2) Why do people always complain about the number of bad drivers in the snow?
From my own experience, most people drive too safely if that’s possible. You’re not going to spin out on a plowed city street if you break 15 mph, yet everyone I’ve driven around in the last 24 hours believes this to be the case. The problem with these conditions, is that the very few idiot drivers that are on the roads are more of a liability because they don’t take the conditions into consideration. There are far less of them actually driving, the number just seems amplified because they can do a lot more damage and cause many more traffic jams than usual, but this will never change.

3) What happened to a big snowfall being a regular occurrence in winter?
I don’t know whether it’s global warming or some other science-related phenomenon that I don’t completely understand, but it just does not snow like it used to. I miss bigger, more frequent snow falls and the chaos they bring to the adult-world, a world which I am becoming all too familiar with these days.

4) Why does everyone need bread and milk when a snowstorm is approaching?
We’re not getting hit by a storm of Minnesota-like proportions people, we never get anything that even sets back life more than a day or two tops. Still people rush to the store like Y2K is happening all-over again. (Or should I say happening for the first time since nothing happened at all then?) I heard some ridiculous stat about the average American family having enough in their cupboards to sustain them for like 19 days or something crazy like that. And on top of this, it’s not like all the stores that sell food just shut down when we get a few flakes. Even if you can’t drive to your local supermarket, there’s always some place within walking distance to acquire the necessities, if, in fact, a real storm hits.

5) Does it make me less of a man to admit that I love the mental image of wrapping up in a blanket with a hot chocolate and watching the snowfall?
I certainly don’t think so but I know that some dudes have issues with guys getting wrapped up in blankets. I don’t think my masculinity should ever be in question for feeling comfortable with a blankee on, although many would argue that my adult-pass should be permanently revoked for referring to a blanket as a “blankee” but that’s another issue altogether.


I know I’m not the first to whine about any of these snow-related topics, but given “El Blizzardo de 09” I figured I’d mention this stuff in passing.


Coming up next, I will let everyone in on the secret recipe to making a Cosmopolitan magazine….check back soon

Holla Tone

I'm eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes right now, and let me tell you something, Tony is right on the money. They are great. That is one savvy tiger...


Let me give this cat some face time right here....




That's my man right there...

On a side note if you've never heard the song "Milk & Cereal" by my other man, G. Love, click the link below and listen to it now. Like, RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pONdKYbmOV0

I'm Not in a Place to Talk About It...

For the many people who have tried talking to me about a certain future Hall of Famer parting ways with my favorite Sports frachise, I have this to say to you: It's not you, it's me. That's right, I take the blame for being short with you or just simply ignoring you when you mention #20 signing with Denver. Certain things in life you just don't want to talk about even if the contents of the conversation is extremely close to your heart. The old addage, "time will heal the wound" is 100% applicable to this situation. But right now it's just too painful to think of...

I'm somewhat of an oddball with many life situations. Add sports to the mix, and I'm as flakey the day is long. Add the fact that I'm a worrier to the mix and you've got one complicated mass of homosapien. I'm starting to realize that although I lack the amount of control over bothersome things that a sane person has, I still do have some. What does this paragraph have to do with the previous one you ask? Well we are a month and change removed from football season, and have to wait half a year for the next meaningful Birds game. It doesn't really behoove me to think about the horrifying event that happened over this past weekend until it's absolutely unavoidable.

When the time comes (and that time will be when our 2009 season ends in November) I will have a very, very angry blog to write. Till then however, I plan on being in complete denial about the situation. Just so you know...

That's all for now. Good luck with the start of your week faithful receiver of this mindless blog-drivel. I hope all your classes and obligations are put off tomorrow for the approaching blizzard we're going to get, all 4 inches of it haha. Keep my kool-aid in your thoughts/prayers as she goes in for surgery tomorrow on her foot!