Lunch Thief Ninjas

I guess to start, I'm an anonymous citizen who hacked into this unsuspecting blog hoping to wreak havoc, post a couple nudies and talk dick and fart jokes.  No actually I'm just a friend of Steve's whose read a few of his posts and thought I could make a little sense of what his stupid mouth is trying to spew...  Okay that was harsh, what I meant was that we have a lot of the same social, economic, maniacal thoughts so I figured we'd go together like a nice peanut butter and fluff (thought I was gonna say jelly huh you predictable bastard?).

Anyways, you know what "Gets My Goat"?  The social deviants who fuck with other people's lunches in the shared office refrigerator.  I mean, seriously these people should have their own segregated wing of Shawshank let alone be in the general public.  I should start by mentioning I work for a large company with many people sharing the same amenities (fridges, sinks, water bubblers, shitters, etc) and I've never seen such Medieval behavior than in my wing of the building and our mini-kitchen.  I swear there were more manners in the days when William Wallace was gutting the English than there is in this mini-kitchen.  FYI - I'm calling it a "mini-kitchen" because that is what it is. There is a sink, a water cooler, a roll of paper towels, a good sized fridge, and about 5 sq feet of space to dodge in and out of the way of the other "walkers" going about their day. 

When I get in and open the fridge and every square foot of the fridge is covered in lunch bags, I know it's going to be one of those days.  I normally cuss at the sky and move on thinking there could not be any more damage done.  Ohhhhhhhhh boy was I wrong.  So when lunchtime arrives, I head to the kitchen to get my grub on and fetch my lunch bag.  I open the fridge and its practically empty with a few items still hanging out, and there's my lunch on the bottom shelf.  It is now open, bag ripped, and my rasberry Nutrigrain bar is hanging outside the bag in the fridge chilling by himself like he didn't want to hang out with the rest of the lunch anymore.  I was awestruck!  This was just your basic Market Basket plastic bag that I purposely tie up so shit doesn't fall out, however, on this day someone made it a point to open the bag and go through it!  What kind of sick individual does that?  This happens at least a few times a month.  The funny part is they were obviously looking for something good, a nice lil' snack like a cupcake or something like that.  They were sadly mistaken to find my turkey sangwich on french roll, cape cod chips in another plastic bag, nutrigrain bar (fuck they're good!) and Diet Coke.  Suck it lunch thief!  I've been making it a point to leisurely stroll into the kitchen around 11:45 or so to see if this person was up to their old tricks but have had no luck.  They are like a ninja in how they go about their craft of going through random strangers' lunch bags and I can't find them.  I have my suspects, and I'll be watching them. 

Maybe a boobie trap is in the works like we used to set up in our old desks in catholic elementary school days because the public school kids sat our desks on Sundays and stole shit.  So many great erasers and pencil sharpeners were taken from me and my buddies and we had enough of it.  I digress...

That's How You Debate!

Guy Smiley (Romney) acted like a 3 year old when he didn't get his chance to speak, very uncomfortable to watch.

 

However, the people in the crowd asking questions were fucking phenomenal with their Long Island accents. I hacked up a lung laughing when Jeremy Epstein asked his question and then the follow up question by the dude with the picnic table tie about gas prices...and thennnn the lady who forgot what she was asking and had to dig into her pocket for the crumpled up question...Obama: "You're doing great." hahahahhahaha too fucking funny. Readers may remember that lady that Johnny Man ran into at that Dunks at Hoolan's wedding (see "Old Travel Journal" entry) ? CAWWFEEE...that was her, had to be.

Why can't any politician just answer a question directly. You don't HAVE to take 2 minutes to wax on "poetically" about nothing.

Picnic Table Tie (paraphrased his garbled question): "What are you specifically going to do about gas prices as they are close to $4.00 a gallon?"

Romney: "Blah blah blah blah energy independence by destroying the environment with the worst natural resource in coal blah blah blah pipeline from canada blah blah blah blah two birds were killed by wind energy blah blah blah America Fuck YEah!"

Obama: "Blah blah blah energy independence blah blah blah Romney is a liar blah blah blah Detroit Cars baby, Detroit blah blah blah energy efficient cars blah blah blah 30 years down the road gas prices will be lower than they are now in present value terms blah blah I approve this message with my loosened tie and rolled up sleeves."

Mama Cass Moderator: "Ummm sooo that doesn't address gas prices at all, how are you going to do it, NOW, not years later?"

Quin from the comforts of his bed yelling at the TV with absolutely no facts/sources to back this up: "Gas prices aren't high due to a lack of oil, they are high due to a lack of refineries in the US. I will lower gas prices by $2 in my first term by 1) Releasing the entire US Oil reserve in Texas 2) Building or reopening 10 oil refinieries in strategic regions across the US (it can be done in 4 years if it is concentrated on see FDR years) 3) Bartering our vast resources in food and expertise in smart grid infrastructure for gasoline, not oil, from other countries. Simultaneously, for the much longer term I will be championing the same mandates Mr. President has been offering with regards to alternative energy sources and phasing out gas combustion transportation engines. We have the technology let's use it, and quickly....oh and God Bless America and our Troops, BRING THEM HOME!"

Wife: "You are a blustery a$$hole."

Imaginary Crowd: "BOOOOO BOOOO"

Gets My Goat Series Entry #6-Children's TV, Nope Technology actually

An extremely large problems with keep why don't you understand with Helen talk new line. Enter Dragon sucks enter

tried writing the first two lines of this entry with Dragon speak software it's retarded maybe I should get gets my goat series entry number seven Dragon speak software it's the worst actually can they keep it going with this entire entry see exactly how accurate it is so positive had 5000 errors and Natalie said words I destined to go to a

At least five times do into the line and yelled the microphone just get to Ottawa's retarded as anyone uses this is the worst program of around my entire life to microphone and Steve know this is stupid

By now you are saying what the hell? Well, those previous three paragraphs were me trying to type using Dragon Naturally Speak Software.

You know the one that is supposed to save you fucking time when you write? I spent the entire time yelling into the microphone like I was talking to tech support from India.

My exchange with microphone:

My first attempt at just talking: "Here is why I think Kid's TV shows suck nowadays."
Dragon's Interpretation: "$#*() FJFJFJ GABBA GABBA DEE"

Me perplexed: "Delete Line"
Dragon: "Delete Line"
Me anger increaseing: "No, delete the line"
Dragon: "No, delight is in the pine"
Me fever pitch anger: "Are you fucking kidding me? Fuck it, i'll do it."
Dragon: "Are you fucking kid and me? Locket, I'll do it."

Anger subsides a little...I adjusted microphone hoping that may help...by throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

Fuck you Dragon, bullshit.

Anyway, I hate kid's TV nowadays that is all. I can't even concentrate I'm so pissed. I'll have to do a separate Gets My Goat Entry for it.

A Typical Day in the Life of SPQ c. 2005

 This is a highly detailed account of my day.  It never varies and is essentially the same 24/7.  The only time it changes is when the Spring Equinox appears, and there is no more snow on the ground as my day becomes much more peaceful.   Therefore, I’ll give you the moodier Winter Solstice version as that is much more entertaining because all who know me can picture me getting angry as I write it.        

I wake up at 6:00 on the dot every morning, but it is really 5:50 since my alarm clock is a raging moron.   Reasons unbeknownst to me force this contraption to think I am setting the actual time when I’m actually just setting my alarm time.  The clock takes these phantom minutes and decides to infuse them into its own warped sense of time just to screw with my head.  I can hear the clock laughing at me every morning.  It is a repeated high pitched wail that can only be described as an entirely more annoying Woody Woodpecker laugh.  I swear if I wasn’t so dependant on that mocking timepiece I’d destroy it slowly with a lighter just to hear it scream. 



I then blindly walk to the bathroom with my towel strewn over my shoulder only to find my roommate in there.  My mind can’t comprehend why he is up so early because he is unemployed, but he’s there every morning anyway.  My next conundrum is that I have actually entered the awakened world, and as penalty for that I now realize I have to pee so badly.  Now,  since I can’t go back to sleep I pace around for 20 minutes doing the urine dance while waiting for the Hobbit to stop clearing his nose in the shower where my feet will be residing soon.  Here’s the thing about my bathroom relationship with this particular roommate, I respect his privacy in there.  However, when I’m in there it is no holds barred.  “Heeeyyy QUinnnny!!!”, to alert me of his presence.  Then I get to hear his river ballad on the toilet and of course the flush, which is great when you are in the shower (insert sarcasm here).  Following this he has the audacity to leave the door wide open so everyone can see my shriveled penis in all its glory.  It is already small to begin with, but now I have the extra added indignity of exiting the shower only to be exposed further as a pitiful display of male anatomy.  Why can’t people catch me in the morning when I have to go to the bathroom, and the thing could be mistaken for a pool cue or something else flatteringly large (yes I make up words).  Don’t get me wrong, no one has actually seen it except me, my ex, and my mom.   Yes, that last part sounded strange, but my mom doesn’t count because the last time it was exposed was when I was 9 and an embarrassing tick (as in the insect) story ensues.  That is a story for another time, but it goes down in my family’s lore for something to reminisce about at the most inopportune times.  Fine, the insect rhymes with the body part it was stuck to, ha ha, we get it already, no need to make a song of it.  Where was I? Oh yes, getting out of the shower.  So I step out of the shower on to the bath mat (insert sarcasm here as they are just old newspapers).  I in turn get frustrated because I just cleaned the goddamn bathroom the day before, and yet somehow someone manages to make it look like a Mobil station restroom, graffiti included by the way.  I make my way to close aforementioned door, and turn to look at what waits in the mirror.  Grimacing ensues due to the enormity of my nipples.  They are like pepp…scratch that, they are like salami sized (just as a side note here to all the ladies out there who will forever cringe when I walk by them or am even mentioned in a sentence, I am sorry).  Next comes the brushing, flossing, and combing of the hair.  I actually look somewhat presentable at this point, but now I have to get dressed.

Wardrobe selection has never been my strong suit.  No one has ever said that I was a clothes horse.  Anyway, I have to hurry my choice up because 6:35 is rapidly approaching, and that is the exact moment I have to leave to get to the bus stop.  I tried 6:36 once, and made a comical run after the bus that ended in me breathing entirely too heavy.  Let me preface my choosing outfits by saying I don’t particularly care what I look like.  I mean, I do, but I don’t if that makes sense.  I’m conscious of what other people say about my fashion sense, but I’m too lazy and cheap to go shopping for the newest style.  All of my shirts are wrinkled, my ties are frayed, and my pants are falling apart.  Also, many of these garments don’t even fit.  No one complains about this to my face except my mom, but I tuned her out when I was about 7 or 8.  All of that aside, getting dressed in the morning comes to its apex when I have to find a matching pair of socks.  I’m not talking about socks that match my outfit, I mean socks that match period.  I think I have 8 pairs, but that can be stretched to 10 with similar colors in a pinch.  The thing is with those 20 individual socks there are 179 others in the draw that are orphans.  I realize this is a cliché mystery that will go down in history as unsolved with the Kennedy assassination, but it has to be the single most aggravating thing about me waking up in the morning.

I’m out the door with one final look into the mirror to make sure my tie isn’t around my head, gym clothes in the bag (even though I probably won’t go), and I have scrounged up enough change for the bus.  This is actually an adventure in itself as I get to burrow into the couch like a badger for 3 quarters, dunk my head into the smaller couch like an ostrich for a dime, and lift up the recliner like a gorilla for a nickel.  Since it is a bitter cold outside I, of course, have no scarf or gloves on because I am a highly intelligent being to most critics (insert sarcasm once more.).  “Aren’t you cold?” “Are you nuts?” are the popular questions that come my way.  I don’t wear a hat because my hair will get all messed up.  Now, I know that sounds girlish, but you don’t know my hair.  I have a rather thick mane that takes gallons of gunk to get it under control, and even then I’m described as looking like Bobby from Bobby’s World so a hat is out of the question.  I don’t wear a scarf because I don’t like that they are scratchy, remind me too much of that show Dr. Who on PBS, and only people from Harvard wear them.  Gloves are just extra baggage that I don’t need since I have these things called pockets.  If its colder out than usual I zip up my jacket more and flip up the collar Fonzie style.  I’m not saying I’m immune to the cold, too tough for the cold, or stubborn.  I’m just a weird man-child. 

On my walk to the bus I say hello to the old guy that puts a smile on my face every morning.  Oh wait, that is the peaceful summer version.  This version old man river is probably in FL with the rest of the geese.  I must apologize for my constant digressions.  Anyway the walk to the bus isn’t all that bad as it is quite serene despite the constant rush of traffic.  This is the time where I get to think, and I come up with most of my ideas on these jaunts.  Until I got my portable notebook I wasn’t able to write them down, and I’d invariably forget them later.   This is where I thank my parents for some much needed brownie points.  I’m overdue for a deposit.  I have about 3000 saved up, but it is a wasting account as I ask them for entirely too much, and of course the giving birth thing is like a lifelong mortgage payment I’ll forever be burdened with.  Burdened is a harsh word so I’ll make a deduction of 500 brownie points to use it.  Okey doke, I think I have destroyed that analogy successfully so back to bus journey. (*note, I actually lost the notebook at Home Depot earlier this year)  The route I take takes about 12-15 minutes, and I usually get splashed by cars 13 times and trucks 23 times along the way.

Waiting for the bus isn’t all that interesting, but for the sake of showing you just how repetitive the traffic flow is I can tell you exactly when each type of car will show up at the traffic light.  For instance, Mazzarelli’s bakery truck shows up at 6:52 on the dot every morning, and the kid inside the truck is always bopping to some kind of what the kids call “pop rock”.  At 6:55, a Waltham police cruiser pulls up, turns on its lights, and cruises through the intersection because he is above waiting like the rest of the peasant drivers.  Finally, the bus comes at 7:01 (depending on weather of course), and I give a courteous “Gooooood Morning!” that my dad would be proud of (family joke), only to get a bus driveresque nod in return.  One of these times my charming hello will warm this automaton’s heart.  I take my seat strategically next to the door in the back so I can get off first, but it never works this way as I’ll explain later.  I then bury my head in my book or newspaper for the next 45 minutes, and it is actually entirely uneventful until we get to Central Sq. 

Upon approaching Central Sq. you can see everyone on the bus getting ready to jump at once to exit the bus as if someone laid a stink bomb or something.  Everybody’s grips tighten on what they are holding, brows are furrowed, and the stench of determination is in the air (either that or that smell is one of the drunken hobos that snuck on).  This is why I choose the seat by the door because physics states that the shortest distance between 2 points is a straight line, and mine is a horizontal sidestep to the door…maybe 6 inches.  I also feel like I have the upper hand because I’m 250 years younger than most of the people on board.  However, in a shocking display of spryness these geriatrics pop up out of their seats and are at the door just as it opens.   What is strange to me is once they reach the stairs they go back to being stupid old people again and waddle down the stairs.  My reasoning is that they are paranoid that their insurance adjusters are out there so they have to keep up the act.  Meanwhile I want to kick them down the stairs and use their bodies as a welcome mat to get over the puddles.  How is it that I should logically be the first off the bus, but am the last? 

Let me explain the reason why I have to get off the bus so fast.  The old people I was just talking about are so goddamn slow, and there is a 2 minute window at Central Sq. in which you can get onto an empty Red Line car.  After that it is a cattle train and I am relegated to acting like a Garfield window decoration.  To recap, 7:46 train=Stevie happy, 7:54 train=Stevie wants to break things.  You can imagine which train I catch everyday. 

The train platform antics at Central Sq. are infuriating to me in the morning for the following reasons which can best be described in numbered points:

1)      Only 1-5 people can get on each train because they are so packed.

2)      For every 3 trains going outbound there is 1 train going inbound.  This ratio is just ludicrous.

3)      I get to the forefront of the line waiting for the next train, but without fail, EVERY day this one brazen lady manages to cut in front of me.  So annoying, but I can’t say anything because then I’ll look like a monster for yelling at a middle aged woman.  Instead I picture myself timing the exact moment when I can push her into the oncoming train, then I realize it doesn’t matter because I’d push her so hard she would fall into the third rail anyway. 

4)      Welfare mothers and their whining crack baby children that are going through withdrawals always have to sneak on even though there is no room on the goddamn train.  And how the hell do these mothers afford these Hummeresque carriages anyway?  There’s even a place for them to put their needles!  Ok I’m exaggerating and being evil, but whatever.

5)      Everyone manages to crowd around the doorway so no one can get out or in.  This defies all logic, and I’m embarrassed to say I’m a part of the rabble.  The middle of each car is as barren as most wastelands, but everyone must jam themselves in front of the door because they have to be the first ones off to be the first ones on somewhere else.  I’m guilty of this since I know there is only a 2 minute window in which I can get into Dunkin Donuts for my coffee and muffin.

Boston prides itself on being the first Subway in the world, and that is great.  From the bowels of my fair city the word “rude” was born, the notion of a urine soaked hell hole was developed, and there was finally a place where humans and rats could coexist peacefully.  Bravo, Boston…Bravo.         Three pages later, and that is just my commute.  The lesson here folks is to not drink and drive, or get a better lawyer. 

I saunter into work more relaxed as the harsher part of my day is over.  I give my customary salute and hello to Shamus to which he responds with the weather report.  What is great about Shamus is that he is dead on everyday with the weather.  “Ahhh its going to be a cold one out dere, but it will pr’bly werm up tomorra”, in his heavily Irish laden accent.  I’ll take Shamus’s word on the weather over any local newscaster.  When I first met him I told him my name and he said, “Ahhh nice Irish name, any relation to the Quinn law firm upstairs?”  I replied lamely, “Nah they spell their last name with 2 n’s, we Quin’s only spell it with 1 because we don’t stutter.”  Shamus thought this was the funniest thing since the Potato Famine.  So anyway everyday I say some kind of jolly cliché thing to him and he chortles like a school boy. For instance, this morning he said “Ahhh Stevie how’s it going?” and I said, “Ehhh can’t complain…who would listen though right?” Shamus almost had a heart attack over that. I’m thinking he must be drinking while he’s down there guarding the rest of the building’s safety. 

I can't get off this topic, seriously, why do all old people find the lamest things funny? Another favorite of mine is when some older person asks you with an amused grin on their face "Working hard or hardly working?" as if they are the one who invented the phrase. And their name is always something like Pete or Paul. I trump that with my coveted response, "Well Petey, I'm working hard at harldy working!" This is invariably always met with raucous laughter. Why? That's funny? Ehhh, enough of that. I could wax on about this phenomenon for awhile.

From 8:00-9:00 I do all of the work I have to do for the day.  That is no lie.  I get paid for a full day’s work even though I only do 1 hour worth of work during the day.  The other time is spent typing things like this, emails, checking ESPN every 5 minutes to see if Bill Simmons wrote something new, checking my fantasy football team even though the season is over, and reading entertainment news to see who the latest relationship casualty is (as of today it was Shannon Elizabeth and her no name husband).  Instant Messenger is also a viable option to take up some of my time, but mostly I stare out the window until I hear the CEO lumbering down the hallway in which case I pull up a fake spreadsheet to make myself look busy.  I won’t get into the office culture as this is just a description of my day, but without a doubt the most annoying thing of my work day is the file clerk.  She can best be described as the maid from Billy Madison.  Every morning she must make her annoying presence felt by saying hello to everybody.  Examples include coming into my office and saying hello to my boss who sits behind me in this high pitched manner, “Hello Madame.” Then turning to me, “Hiii Teevie.”  Ugh makes me want to vomit.  I actually have enclosed a grainy picture of what I’d like to do to her.  I sent it to my sister one day after I couldn’t take it anymore:


5/12-Cripes I was in a bad mood when I wrote this. She was an extremely sweet lady.



As you can see I have a lot of pent up angst towards certain people for no reason in particular.  Since I usually blackout during work hours until designated times [12:30 (lunch), 2:30 (send trades, yes actual work), 4:50 (leave work)] there isn’t much to report on how I conduct my business during the day.  My CEO is just as bored as I am apparently because he feels the need to come in every ½ hour to bother me while I’m obviously busy.  I will revisit this part of my typical day some other time as I am starting to run out of steam, and I haven’t told you of my commute home yet, and as a matter of fact I’ll get to that later too.  I need to give this whole piece the justice it deserves right now it seems like I’m trying too hard.  (*5/1/12-I never revisited this...so painful, so very, very painful)

Gets My Goat Series-Entry 5 "Liberty Mutual"

Am I the only one who thinks the Liberty Mutual "Pay it Forward" commercials are a farce?

They start off innocently enough with someone helping someone out when typically the help wouldn't be offered. For example, helping your neighbor shovel their driveway. Then that simple act inspires someone who observed that good deed to then do a good deed of their own, and so on and so on.

Watch this commercial and tell me you don't see what I see:

1) Man picks up doll for mother-innocent enough

2) Mother saves coffee from falling (man observes from window)-again, innocent enough

3) Observer picks another man up who fell down (man observes from street)- he wasn't a cripple so I probably wouldn't have helped him up...if it were a woman, definitely.

4) New Observer stops elevator door from closing on woman (Accountant looking dude observes)-nice thing not everyone does

5) Accountant now stops car from hitting motorcycle (bitchy woman looks on)- motorcycles shouldn't be allowed to take up that much of a parking spot, i would have let it hit it.

6) Bitchy Woman stops lazy office guy from falling out of his chair (homely woman observes)-I would have let him fall for the pure comedic factor.

7) Homely woman...STOPS A STACK OF DANGEROUS BOXES FROM CRUSHING A MAN TO DEATH (observed by the kid from the adult version of the Golden Child )-

8) Adult version of the Golden Child then lets a car out in traffic!

HAHAHA ok...So let me get this straight

A) Homely woman would not have saved that man from getting crushed by boxes any other day if she hadn't seen Bitchy woman save the guy from falling out of his chair.

B) Seeing a man almost get crushed to death only to be saved inspires Golden Child to do something extremeley significant and life changing...like let someone out in traffic.

Liberty Mutual thinks this Ad campaign is so good, they've released several commercials like this since 2008.

This one is my favorite (watch it all the way through):

The commercial starts with Wanda Sykes saving a person from walking into oncoming traffic. The commercial ends with WHY Wanda Sykes decided it was a good idea to save this unfortunate soul from walking into traffic. It is because a guy paid someone's parking meter out of the kindness of his heart. Any other day she'd let that fool be crushed by a truck.

Honorable Mention: Unintentional Comedy moment with the two brothers (actual siblings, not just because they are black) playing basketball and the big brother roofs his little brother.

In looking for these videos on YouTube, I actually found spoofs. They were obvious in design, inverting the actual commercials into evil deeds. No other way you could write them actually, but I guess I'm very late to the party on this analysis.

Ash Wednesday Conundrum

I'm a religious person. I'm just not a religious person in the sense that other "faithers" are.

For instance, at 12PM today I decided that it was lunch time. I had two pieces of pizza. My initial thought was one of, "I'm going to destroy this first piece without any sacrilegious feelings." 

The next piece made me pause and ruminate over whether I can convince the heavens that pepperoni isn't really a meat. I've had success in the past with bologna, hot dogs, and almost made a convincing argument for a surf n turf meal a few years ago. That one didn't end well as my penance was an upset stomach (code for the shits).

Then again, I also think that God & Lucifer are both looking upon me with their beady omnipotent eyes and simultaneously thinking, "He can have him." 

I firmly believe this is why I'm still alive right now. I annoy both worlds so much that they aren't ready for me yet.

I've drawn another of my masterpieces illustrating this:

Another Oldie

There was a conspiracy against me formulated by my friend Jesse several years ago. We were still at the age where visiting your alma mater was OK and we weren't considered has beens yet. We still had some friends that attended the school as well. Apparently I woke up in the same bed as Jesse while we were visiting. Not a big deal really, its not like he woke up saying "THOSE AREN'T PILLOWS!" Jesse spun it so I once again looked like a fool though. I felt enough was enough.  I wasn't even there to defend and explain my side of that story. Well, since Jesse tarnished my sparkling image by spreading lies about my exploits to his whole family (which is weird in itself) I felt it was my duty...NO...my obligation as a citizen to spread propaganda of the same effect about his meanderings. 

So without further ado here is my story of Jesse's plight with Psycho Sue.  It is entitled:

"A Coward's Escape"

Our story begins several years ago in our characters' sophomore year at the college formerly known as Bryant.  It is spring time, a time where everyone is thawing out like their environmental surroundings. Young coeds start shedding clothing more and more each week, people actually say hello to each other, and spirits are flowing down gullets like a perpetual Irish festival.  This last fact lends itself to random procreation with strangers with no discrimination for looks or reputations.  

We pan into the 2nd floor dorm room in Hall 2 on a Thursday where we find the roommates chortling about some stupid soundbyte they found on the computer.  Jesse and Quin have just received their weekend's supply of alcohol from the senior staff (it should later be noted that the supply ran out on Thursday night to be refilled Friday night...and then again Saturday night.).  You can sense their pending excitement about the night's festivities to come, especially from Jesse, as he giggles like a school gir and tweaks his nipples much to Quin's disgust. 

As Quin contemplates his roommate's sexuality with much fear we'll fast forward this story to the night the horror show began.  We'll see it from Quin's eyes since he remembers everything crystal clear because he is like an elephant when he drinks, he never forgets (shut up I'm not fat and not gay like Jesse).

Unlike his gay and super uncool counterpart, Jesse, Quin can hold his liquor unlike no other.  Just because he likes to enjoy random forays into nature at odd times at night after having a few brews doesn't mean he's a wandering moron who ends up waking up next to his ex-roommate upon visiting college after graduation even though the bed was clearly his and the ex-roommate should have realized this but he's gay so he planted himself there knowing Quin would sleep there anyway...but this author digresses.  Where was I?  Oh right, the night Jesse met his chemically imbalanced mate.

She was a woman of stout stature, voluminous blond hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders.  Any man would pine after her (stifling laughter).  She drew first blood by approaching Jesse in a cheetah like fashion during a party and not letting go of his jugular.  This often happened at parties for our dimwitted friend.  He'd stand there looking and acting like Kelso and the lady folk would flock to him.  No effort was ever made by Jesse.  Quin on the other hand had to club girls over the head with blunt objects and even then he got turned down (shut up I'm not ugly).  So anyway this girl fancied Jesse and Jesse obliged mostly because he just got through 690 games of Beirut.  Details are hazy at best from here on out,  but what happens the next morning on will forever be burned in our memories.

Author's best depiction Psycho Sue

Quin awakes the next morning in a haze only to find a bra-clad woman giving him the evil eye and saying, "You get a good look?" Quin, fearing for his life, says "No ma'am. Sorry ma'am. I'll just be on my way."  Quin wonders what the hell just happened there as he somehow just got kicked out of his own room.  He immediatly has no sympathy for his roommate and whatever may come to him in the next 24 hours.

Later in the day Jesse still has that post "i just hooked up" grin on his face until one of the dorm mates friends says "Dude, you hooked up with Psycho Sue?" Jesse's face shows confusion and he responds, "Yeah..Psycho Sue?" Dorm mate says, "hahaha oh man I used to date her, she is a whack job, do yourself a favor and GET OUT NOW!" 

Jesse's crestfallen face says it all and he now goes into a whirlwind of overanalysis on how to get out of his current predicament.  Quin is enjoying this news all too much as we see him curled up in a ball laughing at the mess Jesse has gotten himself into.  Jesse wants a second opinion...it is confirmed from several sources that Sue, is indeed, psycho. 

Now, there are a few options that Jesse could use here that could get him out of this jam:

1. He could flat out tell her if she comes a knocking that he wants nothing to do with her and what they did was from the effects of alcohol.  This apparently takes balls so that option is out for Jesse.
2. He could avoid her until he graduates college and is far away from her.  This is just outrageous, but probably his first choice
3. He could avoid her all day, and night, and ask his roommate to cover for him.  Then have someone else break the news to her. 

Bingo! We have a winner.  Let's take the story from there.

Jesse successfully avoids his mistress all night.  Its  kind of a game to him and he's enjoying it.  Everywhere he goes someone kiddingly says, "I just saw Psycho Sue and she's looking for you" upon which Jesse darts out of that establishment to find his next sanctuary. 

This was one of Jesse's genius disguises

Eventually he barges back into his room in hall 2, much to Quin's surprise.  Jesse blurts out in an exhausted mumble, "I was never here, you never saw me." He then proceeds to clear out beneath his bed, the snake aquarium thing, and laundry baskets.  He barricades himself under the bed and says, "you can't see me right?".  Quin, chuckling to himself says, "Nope...Psycho Sue?" Jesse, "yup." Quin nods to himself and continues watching the TV saying, "You know she's called like 40349 times." Jesse nervously responds," shhhh don't talk anymore."

Then there's a knock on the door. 

Psycho Sue, "Have you seen Jesse?"

Quin, "Nah sorry, don't know where he is."

Psycho Sue distraught and knowing whats going on, "You tell him I'm looking for him."

Quin trying his hardest not to laugh in her face because he values his balls and doesn't want to lose them, "OK". 

Quin to Jesse, She's gone now."

Jesse didn't come out from underneath that bed for another few hours according to Quin.  To think all that could have been avoided with something most humans call a confrontation.  How bad could it have been? 

We all know Quin would have handled it differently...  yup and he'd probably be married to her today.

The End

Old Travel Journal

I like to go back and read what I wrote years ago to see if it still holds up or if it was extremely lame. This entry was from around 2006 I think when a friend of mine was getting married in Long Island. I labeled "lame" in parenthesis for things that didn't hold up too well.

Hoolan's Wedding circa 2006?

I'd like to thank my counterparts for being "on point" with their ribbings, observations, and general boobery this weekend.  Everyone brought their "A" game which I was not expecting. 

The following events took place from Friday to Monday for the end of Hoolan's life as we know it...The Wedding in Long Island (lame and cliche line):

Friday:

I meet up with some college buddies of mine J-man and Dave a half hour after I told them I would.  Based on the intelligent texts and voicemails I got stating "Get your sweaty ass over here" I surmised that they weren't too happy with me. 

Upon disembarking from the Red Line I see J-man with a butt hanging out of his mouth ranting about how some Vietnamese guy was making him crack up.  Awesome start to the trip.

Our odyssey has begun with catch phrases and ongoing themes in hand for the weekend:

1. "WTF"(lame, I guess this was funny 6 years ago?),
2. "LOOOOOORD Jonathon Covington"(seems lame, but hilarious if you were there), and
3. "Fun Sponge"
4. "What's that smell?...oh jesus Dave, that's like hot garbage...no actually that's more like that beach bathroom smell where its like sand, shit, and urine mixed together." 

We stop off for food and Dave gets a steak Caesar wrap, his reaction was one of irate anger. 

• 30 minutes into the ride and we realize we have no clue how to get to Jesse's.
• 35 minutes into the ride I yell at Jesse to pick up his damn phone, I left a voicemail with the words that shall not be repeated for print. 
• 40 minutes in we realize we have GPS in the car and we are in the clear. 

We get to Jesse's a few hours later and we decide to go cosmic bowling...you heard me.  This is where it gets terrific.  Cosmic bowling involves a darkened alley, a DJ playing some of the latest hits (CT is behind the times like Germany so its actually stuff from our middle school dances as J-man shrewdly pointed out several times), and goofy looking children. I felt like I was at the Chernobyl incident. 

RIGHT when we got there Jesse excitedly states "LOOK AT THIS KID!, He's unbelievable! Seriously, just watch him."

Ummm...Jesse you frequent this place?

"Uhhh..."  Jesse proves us right by bowling quite the round, BUT NOTHING compared to the aforementioned neighbor who was bowling FOUR strings at a time and averaging a 260 on each. 

What was his name you ask??? It was Flash, his name was Flash.  I can't wrap my mind around this.  This kid, I can't even do it justice, I'm shaking right now trying to describe him.  He was like the Quasimodo of the bowling alley except he Cosmic sweated through his shirt more and he didn't have a bell tower to escape to when the other yokels started to harass him. 

Jesse took pity on the popularly challenged young lad and started yelling at the toothless Children of the Corn who were openly mocking him. I believe he called them bitches and spit tobacco at them even though he doesn't chew tobacco.  By the by, this courage came from the fact that the kids were barely 16.  In any event, it left Dave J-man and I cackling with delight. 

My comments didn't go over to well when I started saying "We don't solve our problems with our fists Jesse, we TAKE IT TO THE LANES!"  no one found it funny when we first walked in...no one found it funny at that moment, but I still tried to press it. 

Oh that's not all that happened folks, we took off with Jesse's sister, Tina, after this event and went to the Cadillac Ranch bar errrr saloon errr local sock hop joint? All I know is that it had a lot of wood and cowboy hats.  I felt like hitting someone over the head with a chair or a bottle the entire time I was there.  No lie, I could have sworn I saw 14 Jeff Foxworthy's there, so basically the bar can be summed up in one word, Awesome. 

We get in there and play some pool.  I REFUSE to repeat the thing I said that was just awful...eh screw it, Dave would tell you if I didn't so here it goes, but I'm throwing a disclaimer in here that this has happened to everyone on some level.  Have you ever had something in your head that said "this is going to kill" and then when you are saying it are like "oh shit, close your mouth now...close it you ass!"? Yeah, HUUUGE moment for me where not only was it met with awkward silence, it made me look and sound very gay.  NOT MY intent at all (I like caps lock apparently).

Ok having said that the waitress was going around with Jell-O shots in these plastic syringes and vials.  I took the plastic syringe thing and said "yeah, just shoot it into your mouth like a cumshot." wait for it...wait for it...OK now you can start making fun of me. In my head it was meant to make everyone else look gay, but it backfired. Needless to say my face was really red afterwards and Dave being the dickhead that he is wouldn't let it go. 

After pool we went down to the "dance floor".  It was a bunch of people doing a hick version of the Electric Slide continuously.  The same exact dance every single song, and they all looked miserable doing it.  Miserable or intense I couldn't tell.  J-man tried and they booted him off.  They seriously had a boundary line going all around the floor.  It was quite a sight to behold. 

I'm not going to go into the footprint I saw on the bathroom stall that was just entirely out of place because no one will, or did appreciate that as much as I did. 

I'm also not going to go into the fact that J-man got shot down by some girl after he saved her from someone even creepier than him because he and Dave are the ones who witnessed that fiasco, I can't do it justice. 

We go to the regular bar and we are sitting there when I hear this gurgling sound behind me, then a splatter, then J-man saying VERY calmly, "Ok bout time we get out of here." I look, and there's J-man's first puke of the weekend.  He acted like it never even happened.  You are supposed to be somewhat fatigued and have a weird glossy look to your face after puking, but J-man is a seasoned veteran and all you get is a gurgle, splat, and amusing comment afterwards.  Bravo J-man.

It was uneventful after this...or maybe I just semi blacked out.  OH wait, I learned the EXACT mechanics on how to arm wrestle from the Over the Top arm wrestling champions of the world, The Miron Siblings.  Good stuff.  Dave passed out spooning with the dog, good for him.

Saturday:

We wake up to play some golf.  Everyone sucks except me, that's a shame. Thanks for the money guys.  I don't remember anything all that funny happening on the golf course (see semi blacked out) so we'll move on to the commute down to Long Island. 

Dave wanted Twisted Teas (lame for Dave, he called them "Pounders" too) for the ride down and Jesse wanted coffee, neither of them knew the other was going for this.  Jesse went in for coffee, Dave went into the liquor store shortly after. 

Jesse gets back into the car and drives off with J-man and I snickering in the back.  Guilt overcame me for some reason so I yelled "KEVIN!" like in Home Alone and we turned around to see Dave standing outside the liquor store like an abandoned waif.  Very amusing. 

Again thank god for GPS or I don't think we would have found our way around anywhere this weekend.  We get down to the hotel and check in, I can't upgrade my room to 2 beds, nor a cot. Dave, J-man, and I get into our room and notice that the bed looks like something out of a 3 Stooges episode, it was huge.  Yup we all slept in it, I think I was Moe...or Shemp. 

We then went to eat next door at this place called Ciao Baby.  We are waited on by a man who likes other men and a women who likes young men.  We bought her a drink and told the other waiter to screw...the chefs in the backroom.  Dave tried to give her lip and she called him an "obvious virgin". 

I got the filet mignon which when served resembled steak tartar, and it was cold in the middle.  I still ate it because I'm a tough guy.  Filet mignon is usually 8 oz or so, this thing was 16oz. I'm an idiot, didn't realize ...you know what, its irrelevant.  The bill comes to 4380234 dollars and we get a call from the rest of the crew that they are at T.G.I.F down the street where we could have eaten for $25 so it leaves me saying W.T.F., and I'm the dolt who volunteered his credit card. 

Nothing much happens at TGIF other than Jesse calling Mike a fun sponge...or did he do that at the wedding...ehhh doesn't matter, fun sponge was the phrase of the weekend for whoever looked miserable or angry.  Amie regaled everyone with her gross nursing stories per Jesse's urging.  As we were leaving Friday's J-man began his second puking binge of the weekend leaving Joey Caps to say "Nice Distance."  That kid has to have the most soft spoken and best one liners anywhere.  In Atlantic City a certain individual asked what to do about a lodged booger that he was trying to wrangle free and Joe replied with "Don't give up." Guess you had to be there.

Sunday:

None of the boobs had gotten cards yet so we traveled to Wal-Mart where I was designated fun sponge for the day. 

We were at the stage of hungoverness where everything is funny.  Dave decided to get a card with a dog on the front that said "Adios!" and on the inside it said "That's Spanish for: See you later.  Never to see the people you care about ever again."...or at least something like that. 

Keep in mind these guys only had cards to buy and for some reason this Wal-Mart didn't have an express line, and I wasn't buying anything.  I went because there was promise of food. You can imagine my ire rising when I saw how long the lines were. 

That didn't stop the good mood of the Goof Troop and their observations of the top 5 ugliest families ever inbred..i mean bred.  Dave pointed out the biggest mustache I have ever seen on the moth...I mean father.  I was distracted by the asses that were hanging out of the daughters shorts, yes I pluralized the ass because there were like 45 of them. 

Something else caught my eye when the buzzers went off for the 11th time on someone trying to steal, but I didn't really catch this anomaly until the 12th time...A MIDGET came out of nowhere and intercepted an old man trying to smuggle some shaving cream out of the place.  She was like a small ninja repelling from ropes in the ceiling.  A Wal-Mart oompa loompa if you will, but it just thoroughly fascinated me that she commanded this presence and intimidated these people. 

We go back and get ready for the wedding.  I get ripped on for having Barbasol shaving cream and my barber gel.  I respond in kind by making fun of Andy for his Alex P Keaton outfit consisting of a blazer and khaki pants.  That took the heat off me for a bit until the fun sponge comments started really roaring. 

We get to the church after a stunt jump over some railroad tracks and I immediately fall asleep.  I'm thinking the wedding was probably nice.  I woke up in time to whisper "can I get in on that." (*joke from Atlantic City) to Dave when Hoolan kissed Hope to complete the marriage sacrament. 

The reception line had me saying to Hope, "Eh you look alright." and then continuing on down the line.  She didn't like that too much, but I was obviously kidding.  Actually maybe she didn't like the booze smell that was dripping off of me. 

We get a shuttle to the reception and stand around like boobs for an hour before we go inside.  It was all beautiful, blah blah blah.  Anyway we sit down and the 2nd half of the Bryant tables blurts out in laughter because they are the only table without a centerpiece.  Hoolan must have known something bad would have happened if glass and candles were within a 50 ft radius of Pete Mulligan. 

This later turned out to be true as Pete slipped hard on the dance floor with me almost going right after him.  Ah yes the boobery on the dance floor where I defied the laws of biophysics with sweat from my shoulder outward rather than my armpits.  Jesse and I managed to ruin several pictures that we weren't supposed to be in but popped into anyway.
Here are three from that weekend:



Please Note the aforementioned sweat on my shoulder.



I'm starting to fizzle out here so I'll just say that I got drunk and it culminated in me yelling at Andy to drink a beer like he was pledging again.  The ride home sucked and I haven't shaken that bad since I kicked heroin (*that’s a joke by the way it was actually crystal meth).