Friday, November 29, 2002
Today, I was in the zone. We played the Yarmouth Thanksgiving Classic today, and I couldn't do anything wrong. I don't know how I got there, or what was happening when I was there, and now that I'm not "in the zone" anymore, it doesn't feel different . . .
11:51 PM . . .
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
I Left for NYC at 12:45 and forgot to set Outlook's Out-Of-Office Assistant to my typical away message of, "On Vacation; Sleep tight, ya morons!" Meg Ryan completely lost her status as attractive in "Kate & Leopold" on the in-bus movie to the city. I got to Jason's apartment at about eight and we proceeded to pour much Grey Goose and Kahlua down our gullets. Jason's an avid collector of fine films, so I was treated to a quick viewing of "Black Beach 2000," then we went to see the real thing. Granted that I'm not a big strip club guy, I have to say that when my man Jason invites me somewhere, I know the event won't disappoint. It didn't.
We got there and the bouncer made me open my jacket to be searched for weapons. Now I've been searched for weapons before, but this has been restricted to airports until now. Right there, the trip was worth it; I was a suspect. Two skinny white guys walk into a Tribeca all-black strip club and they're searched for weapons. I almost sued for racial profiling on the spot.
Of course, we stuck out like sore freakin' thumbs in the place. Watched a couple shows, threw a couple singles around. I learned that the correct way to get singles at a strip club was to simply go and ask the bartender for singles. They should make ATMs that just dispense singles, or change machines . . . consider those two ideas patented. I'm gonna make a fortune!
We left to meet Jason's girlfriend, Jolene, who would be babysitting for the rest of the night, because by that time we were absolute puddles. We went to a famous bar called The Knitting Factory, and I don't remember what happened after that. Jason and Jolene told me that I came down to meet them wearing a sweater. Apparently this was the conversation:Jason: Dude, is that your sweater?I did lose my jacket. The thing was a knock-off Hugo Boss that I got in Shanghai for $16; I wasn't too attached to it.
Me: Uhhh, I don't think so.
Jason: Then take it off!
Me: Come on, dude. I lost my jacket.
That was it. I made the decision when I woke up the next morning that I was too drunk. If I have a fun-as-hell night like that again, I'm gonna need to be able to remember it.
10:29 AM . . .
Friday, November 22, 2002
When News 4 is leading with a story reviewing "Which toys are the hardest to open this Holiday Season," you can't help it if you start to miss those sniper guys.
4:45 AM . . .
Thursday, November 21, 2002
Nothin' gets you goin like a good, old fashioned Muslim Beauty Pageant Slaughterfest! Yay America?
You see one side, and you think it's bad. Then someone on what's supposed to be "your side" comes along with his equal social totalitarianism to the statements made by the actions of the people you're not supposed to like. Granted, I think his statement is funny in a South Park sort of way; he's just not my number one nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize.
That message board is gold, though. I want to describe it using a reference to The Jerry Springer Show, but the description eludes me at this time.
2:51 PM . . .
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
Saturday, November 16, 2002
Friday, November 15, 2002
My license plate.
Speaking of license plates, I'm in Atlanta right now, and instead of license plates, people have cardboard in their back window with the words "Tag Applied For," and it seems OK. There are tons of them down here. Doesn't that seem like a pretty lax way to keep tabs on your state's registered automobiles?
I like it! I figure I'll move down to GA when the registration on DZ runs out.
12:09 PM . . .
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
Wow . . . This guy posts more than I do. I really wish I had my comments box working because I want to comment on this (since I completely disagree). Without further ado; Scott:If you have the luxury of being able to listen to Internet radio at work like myself, you’re pretty lucky. ESPN Radio blasting 9-5 makes your day go by like snooze-button time. Of course, sports radio means sports debate, and that brrings me to the most often debated sports topic over the last twenty years: player salaries. Being the opportunistic economist that I am, I believe a player is entitled to compensation commensurate with skill level and their prior/projected contribution to a team. Of course, this is how the players think, and how their agents think, and on down the line to the General Manager. This leads to increased ticket prices. Are we asking these athletes to understand the complexities of professional sports economics? Even though many of them do, do they make much of a difference? As if taking a slight salary cut would make it more affordable for people to attend games. It's the owners that throw everything and the kitchen sink at you to make money. I know this firsthand residing under the jurisdiction of Daniel M. Snyder.
This bring me to the new topic of: “should our society reward only our brightest, and most artistic?" You haven’t heard people complain about the lifestyles of actors, musicians, artists, and CEOs (until recently), yet American athletes go through similar hardships and put in the same effort before they’ve made it. Why not give our best physical specimens the same treatment as our society's other cream of the crop? Why should minds be valued more than the bodies they control?
2:41 PM . . .
I was supposed to set up a team to be in a league to play some soccer with a couple of co-workers and teammates and I dropped the ball. I didn't check the fax log when I faxed the sumbission in, and they never received it to sign us up.
I feel like a complete bag of shit right now. I love soccer and now I can't play. I love my friends and I let them down. I mean, It's not even a big deal but I'm still sitting here at work typing this, trying to hold back tears.
This is not characteristic of my temprament.
1:57 PM . . .
Friday, November 08, 2002
Remeber those posts I had to take down? Let's just say I didn't take them down simply because I was threatened with legal repercussions. I only did it on one condition . . .
Leave your E-mail in the comments section, and I'll tell you what it was.
12:40 PM . . .
And now, for your blog-reading pleasure, a featured guest writer on the D-Train. It pleases me to present you with musings from my dear friend Scott:While listening to the radio on the way to work this morning, one station was featuring Bill Maher. These days, it seems that a Bill Maher interview just isn't quite complete without touching upon the demise of his show Politically Incorrect. We all know about the incident in which he “defended” the 9-11 hijackers; statements that subsequently got him, and his show cancelled. Since then, he has become as popular an American as Benedict Arnold and The Rosenbergs. I think the American media is taking this one a bit too far. Anyone else think he got a raw deal?Welcome to the blogosphere, Scott.
On a lighter note, anyone catch his HBO Stand-Up Act? The guy is hilarious.
11:37 AM . . .
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
All right State Farm! They're paying for the damages to my car. A couple days in the shop and my NUTZ will be good as new . . . Wait a second. What if I took the money I get from State Farm and parlayed it into a new ride? Hmmm . . . Please hook me up with links to sweet wheels in my comments section! For all of you who aren't HTML savvy, copy the below text into the comments box and paste the web address between the quotes after the href= :
<a href=" ">Sweet Wheels</a>
7:26 AM . . .
Friday, November 01, 2002
Tonight I was in a car accident. I'm OK, the guy was OK. My car is a little messed up, but come on; it's DZ NUTZ. It can handle its biz-nass.
My roommate was in an accident at the same intersection earlier this week. He got a rental car this week because his car was totaled. Mine, however, is STILL off to the chunk, fixin' to jihad a campsite (I'd link to the campsite's site, but I don't want any weird topless chicks calling up the campsite to put the kybosh on our jihad).
7:55 PM . . .