Day 149: Remember The Time... I Hate Blackberry

I ordered an iPhone last week. It's coming in tomorrow. To go with the major theme in my life of mistiming/good old fashioned bad luck, (see Monday's post about having to jump start my car) my blackberry has reset itself.

I was fooling around with it, and for some God awful reason, it froze while updating an app. Why I felt the need to upgrade an app the day before I was trade it in, I do not know. Maybe the little update arrow was annoying me, and maybe it was making my phone run a little bit slow. Whatever the case, I clicked download.

About 5 minutes later, the program froze, I took the battery out of my phone, and I got locked out of the device. I typed in the password once; fail. Twice; fail. I began typing the password very slowly and very carefully, but for some reason my Blackberry had changed my password. I never, ever had changed it.

11 failed attempts and 90 minutes on the phone with customer service later, my phone reset itself and I lost just about everything that was on it. Luckily I was smart enough to remove the sim card so I was at least able to save my pics, videos and some other small things. I had to redo my entire phone list via face book and email.

The irony is, my iPhone was coming in the next day and they were going transfer all my data. Again, ironically, what took most people I have spoken to 15 minutes to get their info transfered, took me 2 1/2 god damn hours. I told my hot friend who I was with when I had to "jump start" my car this, and she responds with "Only you." hahah Indeed hot friend, indeed.

Day 142: Remember The Time...I Thought Crooked Toothed White European Girls Were The Hottest Thing Ever?

Lately I've been looking up a whole bunch of random music and have been finding asbolute gems. They're pretty hot and can sing their asses off. Go Europe. When the hell did you start exporting these hotties. If your dental programs could catch up with the rest of the world, you just might have a problem on your hands. Maybe it's because they can rock out I don't know but hot damn!

Day 135: Remember The Time...I Liked Playing My Guitar

I used to play my guitar. A. Lot. I haven't even really touched it in a few months. For some reason I'm just lacking the motivation to pick it up and even play for 30 seconds. I'm hoping it's just a phase, and I'm hoping that some live music will make me want to pick it up again and play. We'll see.

Day 128: Remember The Time...I Remember Why I Only Eat White Castle After Drinking

I've had White Castle 3 times this past month. It's been a long time since I've eaten it this much. Each time was on the way home from a bar after hanging out with a close friend, and each time I remember loving it. Off a whim, I had WC just a burger completely straight edged and OMG. Not. Good. It reminds me partly why I've stopped eating major chain fast food restaurants (well that and some major philosophical issues). I know there's burger in there, but it doesn't really taste of meat. Among other things, I felt purely unsatisfied.

Some things are meant to be eaten only after a night of partying. These things include White Castle, a cold cheese steak sandwich, Woh Hop Chinese food, Hop Kee Chinese food and diner steak.

Day 121: Remember The Time...I Wish I Was Someone Else

I don't think I've ever been this tired of being exactly who I am. They say, "Nice guys finish last." Let me be the first to tell you that they do.

I'm open minded, flexible, willing, understanding, determined, a good friend (I think so anyway) and probably the biggest sucker you'll meet. Pity party - end.

Day 114: Remember The Time...I Had Someone In My Corner

You see it in ring fights, basketball games, tennis matches or any competitive arena. There’s always people that root for a team, and in that, there’s always people that will root one person. From grade school to the professional leagues, it seems that the players are carried by the crowd. Remember the time someone I had someone in my corner? I don’t either.

It’s interesting. I’m a super competitive person and a perfectionist to say the least. I try to compete in just about anything I can; pool, cards, driving, basketball, paintball, story topping, cooking, etc… I wonder what it would be like to have one person, just one, a girlfriend even, behind you, to see you at the end when you walk back to the bench or what not. Granted, I can be a bit of a loner, a little bit of support would be kind of nice, I surmise.

I’m not really one to really seek name screaming, but it’d be damn nice I bet. I won a poker tournament, the biggest I’ve ever entered. It was a very long, stress filled, tough decision making day. It was the biggest field I’ve ever played in. When the last card was dropped, and I had won, I turned around hoping to see a familiar face. I did not. I collected my money, and went home.

I’ve played basketball for quite a while as part of the NY Urban Athletic League. Besides my team 14, among 4 of which actually knew how to play, not a single girlfriend came to watch and not look completely bored. Taking her to my games was extremely short lived. My friends’ girlfriends would watch and be into the game, and hell, the team would cheer each other on, but I guess it’s not the same.

I’ve won a few pool tournaments. Hell, pool is my absolute favorite sport, but it’s incredibly tricky when you’re having an off day. I bet it would be nice to see a supportive face, to make eye contact with someone and have them make a face that says, “Calm down.”

 After playing I’d come home, and whoever would be there would ask, “So how’d you play today?” I’d respond, “Oh I entered a tournament. I won” all nonchalantly because I just don’t feel that leisurely competing is anything to really talk about anymore; like it’s suddenly not a big deal if you talk about playing the game of your life, because you’re the only one who finds it important.

One day that spark will come back, and someone will be there to at least high-5 me. As needy as this entry sound, dear reader, traveling home and sitting next to not a stranger does feel kind of nice after a heartbreaking loss or an extremely hard fought win.

Day 107: Remember The Time...I Knew How To Read

Remember The Time… I Know How To Read

Twice this month already I have misread texts while making plans with people. To my defense, some important words and/or information were left out but the results were astronomically funny.

Situation 1: I was meeting a friend for lunch because she had a day off. I asked her what time she wanted to meet, and we concluded that around 1 was a good time. I got to the park and texted her “At the park,” to which she replied, “Yes at the park.”

30 minutes pass, and I text her again asking where she is. “At work. What’s up?” I asked if we were still meeting which was then answered with a lot of laughter and the following. “Wait you’re at the park now?!?! My day off is tomorrow!!!” Some important information that could probably have been used.

Situation 2: A friend asked if I wanted to come out and play. Me, being the fun seeker I am, was ecstatic. I asked for the details this time, all the details like when and where. I asked what time she’d be there. She replied, “I’ll be there 10.” Thinking this meant she’d be there IN 10 because it was happy hour, I told her it’d be about a 40 minute drive for me. She said it was cool and just to come out. So that’s what I did.

When I got there I called her asking where she was. “I’m at work but about to leave. Why what’s up?” This little question tipped me off. “Oh… Shit!” I answered. “I’m here.” She laughed and said she meant 10 pm. We laughed and I had about 3 hours to kill. Luckily though she met me right after she left work, and I ran errands with her until we were supposed to actually meet at 10pm. You’d think leaving a preposition out like “AT 10” or “IN 10” wouldn’t make that big a difference. It does, dear reader. It does.

Day 100: Remember The Time...There Were Only 265 Of These Posts Left

100 down. 265 more to go. Besides breathing, getting up in the morning, and few a minor things, I'm not sure that I can say I've done anything for 100 straight days. I haven't even played pool for 100 straight days, and I play A LOT of pool (well not so much anymore, but I used to). So, here's to the last 265 posts.

Day 93: Remember The Time...There Was An Earthquake AND A Hurricane In One Week

Apparently there was an earthquake a week before Hurricane Irene. I received a call from my sister's, husband's, niece's mother frantically asking, "Are you guy okay??!!" I answered, "Yea, why did something happen?" "Uhh there was an earthquake!" she explained.

I had a brief holy shit moment, which was followed by simple apathy. We didn't feel anything. Or so I though. I was reading people's responses to the quake, and a lot of people thought they were experiences brief vertigo. Holy shit! I did feel it! I've had vertigo before so I simply thought it was that. We were on our way to lunch to I either thought I was heat exhausted or had low blood sugar. I had no clue it was an earthquake. Then I thought, "Eh, whatever the fuck. Nothing really happened."

Later in the week Hurricane Irene hit. Also not too big a deal. Trees falling, heavy ass rain, strong wind. Again, I was rather apathetic. Two big events of nature hyped up and thankfully nothing to show for it.

Day 86: Remember The Time...I Played Beer Pong With A 15 Year Old Girl And Was Not On Dateline

My sister's niece Antionette is now 15 years old. She probably just knows me as Char's brother, because that's how she talks to me. It's obvious, and I don't blame her, as the person that used to take care of her when she was born to when she was about 4 or 5. I thought her how to read a little bit, when she said she didn't know how to. She doesn't know me anymore as the person she used to look for.

Unfortunately, because of some awesome family drama, I wasn't able to see her for a few years. Also unfortunate, it was during the time when kids really start to know who people are. Not seeing someone for that long can definitely make you forget about the person almost completely. It sort of makes me a little bit sad because we used to sit and watch Barny together, sleep in her small kid's wading pool in my living, and a bunch of other fun kid stuff. Now she just knows me as, Char's brother. 

Over the weekend, my brother-in-law set up his beer pong table during his son's birthday party. (We play with water. It's more for bragging rights since we're all hyper competitive than it is about drinking.) Antionette was just shooting around because she was bored, so I decided to ask her if she wanted to play. We shot around, laughed, and it was fun. I wanted to post on my Facebook, "Playing beer pong with a 15 year old girl." for laughs, but I'd probably get some sort of arrested. In any case, it was fun while it lasted.

Day 79: Remember The Time...Food Is Love... And Now I'm Fat

I'm an emotional eater. I also just love to eat. Anything. I eat when I'm happy. I eat when I'm sad. I stress eat, pissed off, or upset. There is no worse time than when I stress eat. Nothing is satiating. Nothing tastes good, yet I can't stop eating.

I'm fat now. Not fat. I honestly don't think I can get fat. I just have a rather unpleasant gut, which is my basic family build. I don't like it. I don't like it at all.

My workout routine has become increasingly, unbearably grueling and I'm sore just about everyday. How in the world p90x can get boring is beyond me, but at least this new regimen is pretty awesome so far. I'm not losing weight. As a matter of fact I'm gaining weight, but hopefully it's not the bad kind. Whatever.

I refuse to diet or change what and how I eat. According to a book I've read (yes I've read a book), if you do everything right, eat all the right foods, exercise, and do everything physically correct for yourself, you only live about 2 weeks longer on average. I say, "Fuck that." I'm just going to enjoy what I'm going to eat and figure out how I'm going to burn it off later. Life's too short to cut things out of your life. So I'll just continue this love/hate relationship with food and myself and cook and eat what I like. So I say, "Fuck you food and fuck you mirror! I'll be seeing you both later!"

Day 72: Remember The Time…”Get Outta My Face” Meant “Leave Me Alone” And Not “Please Bother Me”

I rarely want to be left alone, but when I’m in that mood, there’s almost no amount of talking that'll get me to calm down. It’s usually best to leave me the fuck alone. There are very,very, very few people who can turn a mood or try.

Regardless of what other people may say, “Get outta my face,” at least to me, does mean, “Fuck off.” So the very few times I do say this, unless you’re one of the people stated above, it’s best to leave me the fuck alone.And even after that, you run the risk of me running away from you to hide and be by myself.

At least if I were a CIA operative or something, I’d only have to worry about my mission and keeping my cover. No one would have to or need to know what I do, nor would I want anyone to know. No one would even know who the hell I was or what's in my head. The proverbial doors would be closed, and the walls would be up.

Day 65: Remember The TIme... I Was David Blaine

I have magical powers. Yup. That's right boys and girls. I have the ability to make a person disappear. Just by talking to them. I have a very specific sense of humor. I call it "asshole" humor. I also don't really care. Don't believe me? Start a conversation with me. See what happens.

Day 58: Remember The... Let Me Finish A God Damn Sentence

Remember the time I could finish a complete thought and/or story without being completely interrupted but was too nice to not engage in the other person's thought? Perhaps someday I'll say something important enough that someone will listen to. The following are sentences I have put together that I am going to say next time I want to finish a fucking sentence or when I feel like I say something important:

• I'm not even pretending to listen until I get to finish my thought.
• I'm not done with my thought yet, so I'm not going to listen to what you have to say until I'm done.
• I'm going to walk away until you finish your sentence so that I can finish mine.
• Lips moving; still talking.
• I'm sorry was I interrupting you with this thought that I wasn't finished explaining before you decided cut me off?

For starters anyway. Now if you'll excuse me.

Day 51: Remember The Time...110 Degrees Felt Like Nothing

it's 101 degrees today, and with the humidity it feels more like 110. a lot of people complain that it's hot, and while it's pretty uncomfortable to be sitting in a wet, sweaty shirt, i actually have been in worse.
i used to be a line cook in a very busy restaurant at the busiest station. i worked hot apps. here's an idea of the hellish conditions i was in. i worked within 4 feet of a convection oven which on to a constant 450, 2 ovens cranked to 500, 8 burners 2 of which were on constant high heat for boiling water (yes water was boiling at all times creating gross ass humidity), 3 or 4 sometimes 5 that were on medium to medium-high, a fryer that was on 375 and a 3 foot grill that was on at all times. this was a constant for 13 hours a day. this is also normal for 13 hours a day.

the temperature in the kitchen was literally 125 degrees. being under stress and pressure from the constant barking of other cooks, working the manual labor of bending, kneeling, and overall line cooking, it felt much hotter. my chef's whites, though thin, were always see through by the end of the night. you could see my tattoos through my cook's jacket.

this 110 degrees, though uncomfortable, is workable. i actually don't mind being outside, sweating so much that i can almost feel my balls drip. i wouldn't even mind playing basketball or doing outdoor's stuff right now. i probably wouldn't even mind being one of those topless douche bags you see roller blading around, i certainly wouldn't be able to do that in the kitchen. furthermore, i can be assured by the fact that it won't be for 13 hours a day 5-6 days a week.

Day 44: Remember the Time…I Was ”Carried” During An Exam

I went to culinary school, which was a 6 level professional course. Level 3 of the program is by far the most difficult and most intense of all 6. With this reputation the practical part of the exam, you can expect, was no cake walk. The exam began at 5:45 pm sharp until 8:30 pm when the first course was due. Everyone worked on 2 preset dishes, which was later judged by former students and chef-instructors. They basically tore it apart each dish, told you what was wrong with it, and how you could do better. My dishes were a vegetable soup made from scratch and a roasted pork loin.  

Part of our grade was cleanliness and teamwork. I had recently gotten shit for not putting the huge lexan container where the pork sat in over to the dish wash station. As a result I made sure to take care of the prep table, because I wanted to good grade. Now to be clear, a lexan is a big plastic container box where we kept our prep ingredients. In this case, it held a huge amount of pork. There was so much in fact that there was a good 2 to 3 inches of pork juice, blood, and melting ice at the bottom.

Being a good team player, and also looking to suck up to the proctor, I decided to tackle the lexan and lug it to the sink, but not before slipping on a wet spot on the floor and spilling this perfume-y cocktail of pork infused water all over me. I had just “Carrie-d” myself. You know, the scene in Carrie where someone pours a bucket of pig blood all over her? It got a good laugh from my chef and the judges who were watching from the other room as well as my classmates. I had blood all over my chef’s coat, but I had to push through.

By the end of the exam during judging, my examiners constantly cracked jokes, which was okay with me. I cracked a few myself. I had to retire that particular chef’s coat because I couldn’t get the blood stains out. I was called a lot of things that night; serial killer, murderer, pig lover (and not the good kind), sewer diver but none of them good cook. That would have to wait 4 months.  

Day 37: Remember The Time... I Was Funny

I'm an idiot, and I'm not afraid to be one. I say quite possibly the most moronic things you will hear. The funny part is, I don't care. I love making people laugh. If I have to make a fool out of myself, I'm all for it. Whatever will get someone comfortable is fine by me.

I consider myself a pretty witty person, and I love word play. Other times I say things under my breath but just loud enough for one or two people to hear me. I also love ridiculous sounding ideas, sentences, faces and sounds. You're talking to a person who has actually said the following:

- You wanna know something about this blanket? It has two sides
- I forget how much I like working with my hands when I'm not jerking off.
- This cab is quite possibly the worst time machine ever. It only takes you into the future in one minute increments.
- No one remembers someone that spits in their face. Anyone can spit in your face. Once you spit on someone's neck though, that's memorable. 
- I'm pretty good at not raping. Look! I'm doing it right now.

Yes, dear reader, these were actual sentences... said out loud...during an actual conversation. It's an understatement to say that I love having ridiculous conversations. I often try to drive a conversation in that direction because I love seeing how people react. Will they ignore me (the usual result)? Will they chuckle and look at me oddly (also the usual)? Will they laugh hysterically (more often than not)? Or will they humor me and play the conversation out (my favorite)?

Remember the time that I was actually funny? Well, you may but the people in this story do not. Not all too long ago, I was at a wine tasting party. There were different hams, cheeses and crackers. I made a wise crack about how I should've just brought Lunchables because it's cheaper and has the same things. Crickets. All crickets. WTF people that was gold! The rest of the night was more of the same. I simply could not say anything funny. And need I remind you, I'm a fucking hoot. Eventually I just got serious and talked about the wine, but that made the night quite long and ever more boring. At least I got to eat an ass load of ham.

Day 30: Remember The Time...I Was Awesome, And Pretty Cool, And Not A Klutz

I never really thought of myself as a cool person. James Dean is cool. My tattoo artist is cool. I am not. That’s not to say I don’t carry myself lowly. I don’t do that either. Remember the time I was cool, just met these 2 girls, slid down a couple of banisters and split my pants in the process then had to tie my jacket around my waist for the rest of the day?

I was in my freshman year of college, and I was hanging out with two of my friends. We met a couple of girls that night and everything seemed to be going pretty well. I’m usually a pretty funny person, which makes people feel decently comfortable around me.  That’s pretty much how the night went. I’d talk. They’d laugh. Got ‘em.

The end of the night came. Actually the night had been over for a few hours. We parted ways from the girls at around 8am. Thinking pretty highly of myself because I had not had a socially awkward night, I decided to slide down the banisters. 4 of them to be exact. It was impish. Girls like impish. Besides I had never really done it before, and it always looked so cool. I slid down the first one singing the Saved By The Bell theme song. The 2^nd banister down went even more smoothly. The 3^rd one though, curse the 3^rd one, happened to be the bane of my night. My back pocket got caught on the tip of the post, and I, of course, fell.

I stood up, and everyone including myself was laughing pretty hard. Then I stood up and asked, “Why… why do I feel cold!?!” I looked backwards and had noticed that my pants had ripped from my back pocket down to my knee. The girls laughed as did I, but inside I was convinced that this was it. this is what’s going to wind me up as Mayor of the Friendzone. I was right, but we all got pretty close. It turns out that ripping the ass out of my pants more than broke the ice, and the next few months were a world of awesome fun.  Never again, though, will I slide down a banister.

Day 23: Remember The Time... I Was Good At Basketball

I have always, always, always loved playing basketball. I’ve played for about as long as I’ve been playing the guitar, which is a long time for me. There were many occasions where I’ve spent hours working on one move, whether it would be my cross over, my free throw, my form or being able to shoot with both hands. I have always loved the sound of the basketball hitting nothing but net or watching people’s pre-shot free throw routine. There’s nothing flashy about my game to say the least. I have decent ball handling skills, a quick first step, decent passing skills and eyes and have a good perimeter game. But this one night, it all finally came together in an Al Bundy moment. 

Remember the time I hit the game winning 3-pointer with the clock winding down which advanced us into the semifinals of college intramurals? 4 games in and this one game was not only where I scored my most points, it was the first game I scored any points at all. I finished with 13 points, 4 assists, a few rebounds and a steal or two.

Before this game I’ve never looked to score, but our main 3-point threat decided to really suck that game. My teammate/friend Simon yelled at me to get my head out of my ass and be more aggressive. I listened. I hit a wide open jumper and thought, “Well that wasn’t so bad.”

I soon discovered that I could blow by the guy that was guarding me so I was able to crash the defense a little and find my other teammate/friend Max. We’ve played a lot together throughout college so I just got a feel for where he’d be. He was my favorite target that night.

The game was pretty close and there was a lot of back and forth. The 2^nd to last possession of the game our opponents scored, putting them ahead by 2 points. With 13 seconds left (I remember it was 13 seconds because I said to myself, “13 seconds?!?! That can’t be any kind of good luck!) I ran to the inbound passer and quickly ran the ball up court.

I guess I was quicker than I thought because it was just me, a teammate and a defender under our basket. I ran to the 3 point line and hoisted a shot. Usually I can tell when a shot is going to fall because it just feels right when it leaves the fingers. This one did. we were up 1.

There was enough time for the other team to get off on last shot, but we were able to hold on and win the game. We celebrated our victory by going to the caf and eating Taco Bell/KFC.  We would lose our next game, but that night this game was ours.

Later on in life, I started a company basketball team. Though our team absolutely sucked and we wouldn’t win a single game until the 3^rd season, I would go on to hit 2 more clutch shots with the clock running down that would give us a W. Nobody would really care here though because it didn’t really have anything to do with email marketing. Still a good feeling though. I do love this game.

Day 16: Remember The Time...Taking Allegra Was Suppose Alleviate Allergies And That’s It?

Next time you see a commercial for a prescription medication, listen closely to the side effects. I have always done this, because it’s just always been hilarious to me. There this soothing voice that tells you how much better you’ll feel and how much said medication will improve your quality of life.

Then bam! “Side effects may include gas with oily discharge, debilitating headaches, bleeding from the ears, loss of hair, yellowing finger nails, discolored urine, uncontrollable bladder, stroke, you smell like garlic, your blind to all colors except orange, rash on your toe nails, sudden needs to exclaim the word ‘ hassenfell’, only being able to do math unless the answer is an even number, forgetting letters of the alphabet.” The list goes on, but I feel like you get my point.

My allergies have been pretty severe this season due to the late spring and the very wet winter. Plants are in overdrive whenever the sun’s out, which is ironic because I LOVE the sun, and I love being outside when it’s out. There was a day when that I went to work, and my coworker opened the door and said, “Oh my god are you okay? Do you need to talk? Is everything alright?” I apparently looked like I had been bawling my eyes out. They were extremely red and watery, and I was sniffling a lot. “It’s just my allergies.” I said politely before I asked if she had anything that could help.

She gave me an Allegra, and within the hour I was feeling like a new man. I was productive. I was motivated (which is difficult if you work where I do). I was energetic. “Thank you Allegra!” I thought to myself. I could breathe easily, and just be outside. It was great.

Later I then went to my doctor to get a prescription for it as soon as I could, but not before reading the side effects online. I did not want to be farting oily discharge. Some of the severe side effects were hives (how you can be allergic to allergy medication bogs my mind), mood swings, and depression. I shrugged it off as I haven’t really suffered much of anything that I’ve ever taken before. “Before” being the operative word.

After the 2^nd or 3^rd day of taking this I started feeling pretty down. It could’ve been a few other things, and I have a hunch that those things didn’t help, but this was different. I had trouble seeing the end of it. Random fact 122 – I can usually see the end of just about any tunnel. Usually.

I went to work and felt off. Just completely off. I’d go home and take my socks off, sit on my bed and just breathe, but all I wanted to do was cry. The 2^nd and 3^rd days were similar. The day I stopped taking my allergy medicine was when I started thinking of ways to stop this constant rush of emotional pain, and I did not like what I was coming up with at all.

I had gotten so scared that I flushed the rest of my meds (big waste of money but whatever). I didn’t tell anyone at the time because I didn’t want anyone to know and I didn't want to have anyone checking on me constantly. I didn’t want to be an annoyance, and I knew I’d be fine anyway once I had flushed this nonsense out of my system. The sun’s out now, my mood's, well my mood is my mood, but at least it’s not due to some pill I’ve taken. Gas with oily discharge, discolored urine, hairy fingernails, and elongated pubic hair is now getting smaller in life’s rear-view mirror. Thanks Allegra! Motherfuckers