Universally Speaking

This might be my favorite post in the short history of this blog. Regardless of whether that turns out to be true, the following story brings a smile to my face every time I think about it. I hope you enjoy this just as much as I do.

For the last year and a half, I have been living with a retardedphone. While it is technically classified as a “smart” phone, it clearly has never been. From a touch screen that would freeze up every few minutes (in order to get it going, you would have to rub it up and down), the resending of text messages every time the phone restarted (leading to a bunch of confused conversations with the same person) and a “send” button that never worked (hey, who needs to pick up a phone call), these were just a few of the everyday issues with my phone. In summary, let’s just say that my HTC Touch Pro 2 phone could not even graduate beauty school.

So why did I keep a phone that was more retarded than its owner? Simple, I had no choice in phone as it was required by my last position (it’s free, I can’t complain that much). In addition, every time you do a warranty exchange with the phone, your upgrade date gets pushed back. This happened to me back in March when I was given the opportunity to upgrade. Or so I thought? Instead of being freed from the shackles of stupidity, due to an exchange the previous year, I was forced to keep my phone until August 15^th. Or I could get another retardedphone and wait even more months for an upgrade. Clearly, that was not going to happen.

When I woke up for work on August 15^th at 9:26am (I kid, it was closer to 10am), I immediately ordered my newest prized possession – an HTC Evo 4G. Note: I did not have an option in getting the 3d version, which was fine by me as I hate wearing those silly glasses. The phone arrived just in time for my birthday (btw - if you haven’t wished me a happy one by now, you are officially dead to me) and what a gift it was. Let me tell you about all the fun things my phone can do –

A fully functional Facebook app with check-ins!

A Twitter app that connects me with my page and notifies me of any incoming tweets!

A 8MP back camera and a 2ish MP front camera (which comes in handy since I could never take those stand next to me and smile pictures)

Words with Friends (more on this in a second)!

Angry Birds and other apps!

Swipe texting (which is super awesome)!

Pandora!

And the ability to make and take phone calls!

Most of you are probably thinking “Jeff, my phone does all of the above. Yours is not that special.” To which I say to you “This is my blog, fuck your phone and your couch.” I realize that is a tad mean thing to say but you have no idea the pain I went through with my retardedphone. It’s like dealing with a bunch of tools at work – I struggle with it everyday.

You see what I did there?

On a sidenote, even though I play it everyday, I hate Words with Friends. And it is not because I suck at it (my current record is 2-12). What kills me about the game is that it does not accept slang or dirty words which comprise about 90% of my vocabulary. Granted, I have snuck in a few dirty including merde (shit in francais), hoes, and penis (unfortunately, there is no such word as vagainatown). But in general, I am just not good at it. So I hate it.

That is about all I hate about the phone. Sure the battery drains rapidly thanks to being the king of social media but it’s a small price to pay. I am extremely satisfied with my new baby and the only thing that will be better is when I get around to destroying my old phone. To which, I have a few ideas in mind. Should I go all Mr. Chi City on it and deep fry that motherfucker? Probably not since I do not think a fried phone would go well with my greek yogurt diet. Should I decide to feel good like a gangsta and go medieval on it with a bat? Nah, I was part of a similar destruction in Wackass. Or should I do something completely out of the box – something that I have not even thought of yet? If only there was an app for that.

Where You'd Go?

 

What a week to return to blogging! This past week seemed like a perfect disaster of news. There was an earthquake on the East Coast, poor Jayden Smith’s parents finally said “never” to their marriage, and most importantly, Brenda Song from “Suite Life” is preggers all thanks to Miley Cyrus’s weird looking emo brother! And that was all in the same day! Throw in a weekend closing hurricane and it was definitely a week to remember. That said, I am glad that none of these events happened on my birthday as I do not like being overshadowed (why else am I 6’4”?).

So you are probably wondering where the hell I have been. Great question. Originally, I was planning on writing a blog after my July trip to Boston but never got around to it. And then I decided to wait until I hit 500 viewers until my next blog post. But that came and went (thanks to my new loyal Twitter fanbase). Finally, I guess I could make my triumphant return (complete with new entrance theme music) to write about my sister’s wedding. Rather, I will talk about all of the above. Why? Because you deserve it! Yay you.

I Think I’ll Go To Boston

I guess I should begin with my trip to Boston. In mid-July, I made my valiant return to my hometown for nine days of drinking, tanning, eating, and catching up with as many characters as I could find over that short period. Overall, I had fun even though it was one of the biggest mindfucks of my life. Even Ronnie would have recommended a Magnum sized mind condom.  If you have ever wondered what things would be like had you not made a certain decision, then this would have been the trip for you! Had I not moved to the lovely DMV, I would suspect that my weeklong Boston trip was just a snippet of what my life would be like. It was quite surreal. I mean I even went to the gym at the same time I used to!

The trip to Boston was also the pinnacle of my great summer tan and my beard experiment. I was at my brownest thanks to a combination of water park visits (haven’t been back there since unfortunately), a fourth of July lakehouse spectacular, and the following bodacious activities in Boston – two days on the Cape, one day boating, and one day at the beach in Boston. By the time I returned to DC, it would have been appropriate to call me UPS because there was a lot I could have done for you.

The beard was also another successful early summer spectacle. Even though the reviews were positive and I dropped $19.95 on a beard trimmer, the beard came to an end once I returned from Boston. Between a weeklong work function and my sister’s upcoming wedding, I needed to get myself in a clean and proper form. Will the beard make a return at some point?

Twittastic

Within a week, my love affair with Google Plus hit the skids. Almost immediately after its launch, G+ became the world’s largest internet sausage fest thanks to the fact that only guys got initial invites. Hence, most girls only received an invite from the creepy dudes who stalk them on Facebook. So why would any girl want to join G+ if she only knows of the creepers that are on there?  She wouldn’t. That’s why Google Plus is still a sausage fest and a website that I have not posted on for over a month (well until this blog post goes live).

For the record, I think I only sent out one invite to a girl. I am not that creepy.

With G+ DOA, I decided to expand my social media network by joining Twitter. The reasoning was two-fold: first, I wrote some damn funny tweets in my last blog update and second, I found myself checking certain people’s twitterpages daily anyway. Okay, maybe I am that creepy.

Anyway, why not create an account and have a one-stop news feed for all my favorites? So please follow your favorite internet savior (that would be me) @jsmall4000. Why 4000? Because it’s greater than 3000, silly. Together, we will tweet about random things that I find ironic and/or funny, retweet my favorite tweets from famous people (and Bree Olsen), and most importantly, kill time that could be spent working.

By the way, my favorite moment using Twitter so far – this tweet “seriously contemplating acupuncture. better do it before i ever cheat death. #fdv” got me two doctor followers. Sadly, both have unfollowed me by now. Sucks for them because my first appointment is next week!

Yes, I’m serious. Jeff vs. the needles will happen. Hopefully, I will be able to live tweet throughout it!

Wedding

A couple weeks ago, I attended my sister’s wedding. It was fun. That’s all.

And so this ends my summer wrap-up blog post. The good news is I am already working on the follow-up. Expect that by the end of the week unless I get tied up shuffling.

Tweet Tweet

In case you were wondering, my 4^th of July holiday was very relaxing and low-key. Some might even say it was normal. While normality is great for most people (and trust me, I enjoyed my vacation immensely), it does makes for a terrible blog entry. Seriously, how can I make offensive jokes and random non-sequiturs off of a weekend of boating, relaxing, and drinking lots of beer? I just cannot do it.

But what I can do is list my Top 10 Tweets I would have tweeted over the last two weeks had I ever signed up for Twitter. Now this is an easy way to make borderline offensive jokes and plenty of random thoughts. WINNING (is that even relevant anymore?)!!!

Got six feet of air while tubing on Lake Anna over the 4^th. Would have hit seven feet had I not eaten half a tub of Cheese Balls beforehand. #notintothathealththingmuch

This is the tannest I have ever been. Good thing I whiten my teeth or else y’all lose me at night. #thatsracist

Master Cleanse Suggestion – eat two Vitatop corn muffins for breakfast. Only 200 calories (for both) and 80% of your daily fiber. #shithappens

Just celebrated my 5 year work anniversary and am still in their developmental program. Is there anyone who doesn’t think I’m retarded? #SlowDonnie

Has nine days upcoming in Boston with activities only planned for four of them. Might as well just rent a Mustang and eat at Twin Donuts all week. #memoriesofkeywest 

I need 10 children in order to have a birthday party at the waterpark. Someone ready the Amber Alert at all nearby Chuckie Cheeses! #virginiaisforlovers

Pure Jeff workout video – start with hip abductors/adductors, move on to wrist curls, and end with stretching. Perfect! #doworkson

I know way too many Food Network TV personalities. I think I need to go back to the days where all I watched was rasslin. #notallofthesetweetsarefunny

In need of some serious R&R – rum and Ritalin. #interventionplease

I am kind of pissed that I had to be invited to use Google Plus. Don’t they know who the fuck I am? I guess not. #Facebookdoesnotlikethis

Perhaps I need to join Twitter for realsies. Here’s why: I can be funny at times, I spell as well as a twelve year old girl, and I desperately try to stay up on current slang. Um… WINNING?

Baby (Got) Back Ribs

 

Want to know a secret about me? I like food. Even though I look famished most of the time, the truth is I know how to put down. While I will not say I could compete and win at most Man vs. Food challenges, I definitely can eat like a fat kid when I want to. And most of the time, I want to. My stomach is a gift and a curse at all times.

This past weekend, my roommate and I decided to get our grub on at the National Capital Barbeque Battle. While the battle for the nation’s best bbq is the main attraction, there is plenty of other activities to partake in. For instance, you can take your picture with the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile. Or if that’s not exciting enough, you can do what I did – blow $50 on a variety of ‘que. I mean, what else do I need to spend money on? Women? HA. But I digress.

I began with my personal favorite – a beef brisket sandwich. Now this sandwich was awesome. The brisket was lean, the sauce to beef ratio was good, and most importantly, take a look at those buns! Potato! This sandwich was a dream come true. After finishing in record time, I knew it was time for seconds. But as good as that brisket was, I was now in the mood for some pulled pork. (For the record, I was also given a rib bone around the time I ate the brisket sandwich. Just in case you thought I was hatin’ on baby back ribs.)

Unfortunately, the pulled pork sandwich was not up to par with the brisket. Instead of waiting on one of the longer lines for food, I went to the first empty station. What a bad idea. So lesson learned – always wait in line for the good bbq.  Anyway, the problem with the pulled pork was in the execution. First, the sauce was sweet and not smokey. I guess that’s fine if you are used to spare ribs from Asia Wok but I need my ribs just like forests needs bears – smokey. Second, the bread was only decent. Sure the main attraction is the meat but it has to be surrounded by a good supporting cast. Lastly, it was kinda cold. And there is just no excuse for that. Lamesauce all around.

At this point, I began to feel a bit sick from ingesting over one pound of meat in under thirty minutes. So I began looking for alternatives to bbq. And there were plenty. A free Oscar Meyer hot dog began to warm my spirits (and my tummy). Then I finally got a drink to quench my thirst. Now hydrated and feeling a tad better, it was time for dessert.

Up first, Famous Dave’s infamous chocolate covered bacon. Originally, I had refused to eat at Famous Dave’s since I can eat there at anytime, but damn, I was hooked at chocolate. So I ordered two pieces of bacon and anxiously awaited taking the Facebook pictures to brag about it. Unfortunately for America, it was turrible. Really! I know what you are thinking – how could something sound so great wind up being so bad. But just like the Karate Kid remake, it is possible. I thought the sweetness of the chocolate and the saltiness of the bacon should be a wicked good combination. However, unlike Pretzel M&Ms (which are the shit), there is nothing else to balance out the salty sweetness. So after a couple of bites, it got stale fast. I tapped out after half a piece of bacon (which is way below my normal daily intake of bacon).

Thankfully, I made up for it with my second dessert. Next to the place where I purchased that awesome beef brisket was a tent that was creating some novel fried items – snickers, milky ways, twinkies, and butter. Fried butter? Oh yeah, I was down for that. My only fear was that they were going to fry the entire stick of butter which I guess isn’t healthy. Thankfully, this was not the case as they only used a piece of butter and rolled it up into a ball. Not only was it delicious but the butterball made me feel a little better about my eating habits. And just in case you are one of those haters (Aashish) that does not believe I ate the fried butter, here’s a better butter (say that five times fast) picture for you.  

After polishing off the butterball, my body immediately went into shut down mode. I guess fried butter just does not sit well after two bbq sandwiches, a hot dog, and chocolate covered bacon. By the time I got home, I was fully under the wrath of the Itis. And it stayed that way until I took part in of one of the most cleaver wall posts of all time. But until that madness, the Itis left me debilitated and unable to leave my bed. Normally that would be fine. Except this time, the television was tuned into the Food Network and even I did not have the stomach for it.

Amish Paradise

Back in middle school, a group of girls decided to start their own magazine and would sell subscriptions of it to their fellow students. Their magazine, titled “Bearded”, largely consisted of one-joke (putting beards on different things) over 10-20 pages. While not the most creative topic, “Bearded” did last six or seven editions, which was five or six more editions of the magazine that my buddy Lorenzo and I tried out around the same time. Lorenzo’s and my magazine was so good that I cannot remember anything written or even the name of the publication. That said, by being a fellow magazine writer, I was given free copies of all six editions of “Bearded” while the girls were stuck with their one free edition of whatever the fuck we called our magazine. Yes, even in the seventh grade, I was an A+ moocher.

Anyway, I bring this up because last week I decided to experiment with a beard of my own. I do not recall ever attempting a beard before; rather, I only kept the scruff due to a lack of caring or time. Even though I like the concept of facial hair, I never kept a beard for a few reasons. First, after a week or so, my neck would become itchy, which would lead to a shave. Second, I was never blessed with my Jewish friends’ power of growing facial hair (even now I wonder how long this will last until my face gives up). Last, the company that I work for is kinda anti-beard. They won’t say this; however, I have been told a few times to shave in the past. In fact, the only times I have been disciplined at work have been for sloppy grooming or not watching my surroundings (aka being waisted in public). Feel free to call me the James Dean of power tools.

So last week, instead of my usual Brazilian facial, I successfully executed a neck shave. I was pleased with my efforts and even told a few others. Their response was “Pictures or STFU.” And who I am to not please my fanbase? So on Saturday night, I texted the below picture along with the subject “Beard – yay or nay?” to a few friends for their feedback. Here are their responses in a segment I would like to call “Texts From Last Night.” I know, I know, I’m creative!

Texts from Last Night

Text #1 – “Time to shave.” Thanks Melissa, thanks a lot.

Text #2 – “Looking good. Have to grow hair longer.” Yes, my mom dreams that her child’s going to grow up looking like a junkie.

Text #3 – “Yay as long as you keep it scruffy… like that length, not a full-on Amish pride beard.” Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’ve hated the Amish after being stuck behind a horse and buggy for miles in Lancaster, PA.

Text #4 – “Awwwww.” I’ll take that as a yay.

Text #5 – “Yay, you look gangsta. Maybe roll with the chinstrap beard?” Now that would look good with a turtleneck, thin chain, and light beer.

Text #6 – “Hey buddy sorry for getting back so late we’re over at the black cat for dave’s bday.” Irrelevant, but now you know my Saturday night plans.

Text #7 – “I like da burrrd. It’s a keeper.” Clearly, someone was not watching their surroundings or wanted to see my peacock. Probably both.

Text #8 – “Don’t forget to make a dentist appointment. Love you, Mom.” Dear Mom, can you please stop texting me after 10pm?

Text #9 – “Hmm, let me think about it.” R U Serious Bro? Make a damn decision. After called this person out on it, I received the following text…

Text #10 – “I say yay fuckface.” Much better.

(By the way, 1000 bonus points if you can correctly identify who wrote all 10 texts.)

Judging by the feedback, it appears that Beard: Week One has been a success. Here is hoping that week two works out just as well (stay tuned to my Facebook page for all late breaking bearded news). And in case you are wondering, I plan on keeping the beard until I am bored with it, the itching drives me crazy, or once, I achieve the ultimate goal – 

Joaquin Phoenix bearded immortality!

Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes

 

A downside to living in NOVA is the lack of a nearby body of water (ocean or lake) to go swimming in. Both Ocean City, MD and Virginia Beach are 3.5 hours away – too far a distance for an impromptu trip when there’s a lack of other fun things to do. This is an unfamiliar experience for me as in Boston within 90 minutes you had your choice of hanging out with bears in Provincetown, fist pumping with Jersey Shore rejects at the ABC Club in Newport, RI, spending a day on Kurt’s boat in Rye, NH, or at worst, a ton of other shitty to mediocre beaches up and down the coast of Massachusetts. Yup, it was really convenient back in the day.

With all large bodies of water in NOVA dried up, I seeked out the next best alternative – community pools. While not the most attractive idea as community pools can tend to be dirty (at least in New Jersey), it was a step up from dousing myself with a hose behind the garage (sexy, I know) or stealing Little Jimmy’s slip n slide.  That said, if Little Jimmy had a Crocodile Mile, I would totally be there. Fortunately, a search for a community pool led me to an even better discovery – a waterpark in my very own city!

You would think that I would not need fucking Google to point out a waterpark less than three miles from my house, but you’d be wrong. I also wondered why I have never heard of a waterpark less than three miles from my house! No radio commercials, no brochures, no billboards, nothing. Hell, my roommates did not even know about it. It’s like the park would rather not let you know it exists. But it exists. It exists all right.

Take a look at the above picture. Look again and let it soak in. Because that’s the whole park! Okay, I am exaggerating a tad. In addition to what you see above, to the right of the picture is a kiddie section (with a bucket ready to spill at any time) and there is also another pool that is used for swimming laps. But that’s everything unless you count the nonstop barrage of Jimmy Buffet music as an attraction. So yes, two slides, two pools, a kiddie section, and a musical Margaritaville all this for the low entrance fee of $30!

I’m just kidding. It was only $8. Hell, for an additional four dollars, Ocean Dunes will throw in a free round of minigolf and access to the batting cages! Take that Water Country USA.

For that price, I am fine with what I got even with the beach chair shortage as there weren’t enough chairs when I got to the waterpark 10 minutes after it opened. Undeterred, I had no issue doing my best Emerson impression by planking on the grass for four hours. I was one with nature and one with my tan. Which I hope will look impressive as I applied a shit ton of Maui Babe tanning oil to my body. I take tanning pretty, pretty, pretty seriously.

Now if only I had someone to help apply the tanning oil on my back. But that’s a whole ‘nother story. And it sadly will probably cost me more than $8.  

Center Field

Radiohead lied in their 1999 documentary “Meeting People is Easy.” It’s not. For if it was, we would all make a ton of friends at the bars nightly. But that’s not happening nor is that realistic. In actuality, to meet people, you need to put yourself out there or at least, take on a certain role in a group. Since I do not like putting myself out there, I’d rather spend my time perfecting my role as a social drunk. I find it to be something that I am good at. All you need is a few drinks (I might be the biggest 210 lb lightweight ever), a couple off-kilter remarks that could be considered racist if you weren’t so loveable, and a complete disregard for what other people think… at least on the outside. Inside you can be as emotionally scared as you’d like.

Recently, I think I have taken my social drunk skills to an entirely new level. Call me a late bloomer, if you’d like but I like to think of myself as a former first round draft pick that has finally hit his potential years later.  I could also blame my surroundings (Wade) or the miscreants and hooligans (Lebron) that I have decided to hang out with recently. But nope, like Akon, you can put the blame on me.

But please don’t. I (Bosh) can’t handle that pressure.

Rather blame the game of baseball. I mean seriously, it’s boring as shit. Take this past Tuesday’s Nationals vs. Phillies game that I attended. I could not tell you one distinct play in the game. And I attended it. Then again, I never made it to my seats that night.

That’s because some genius created “The Bullpen” – a hangout spot outside of the stadium full of 90s cover bands, rows of cornhole, and most importantly, my new favorite drink, frozen Red Bull Vodkas. Yes, you read that correctly, FROZEN red bull vodkas. I would easily give up a kidney to the person who thought of this concoction. And really, why hasn’t anyone thought of it earlier? Seriously, people, y’all been slacking.

By the way, said cost of these lovely drinks - $10. The cost of my ticket to attend the baseball game - $10. And it did not stop there! My $10 cover also allowed me to attend the baseball game or should I say get a prime spot at the National’s Red Loft Bar – an open air bar in center field. The Red Loft Bar had all sorts of drinks you’d fine at classy establishments like Gypsy Bar – Jack, Jim, Jose, Johnny, and Jaeger. Suffice to say I comprised the sixth J and by the end of the game, I’d be shocked if I could remember all five names.

So Fly.

Yes, I was waisted (and by the way, this is my blog and this is how I spell waisted) on a Tuesday night. This is not a good idea when you have work the next day. And it’s also not a good idea when you decide to drunk text on said Tuesday night. And it’s an even worse idea when you decide to drunk online shop on said Tuesday night. Oh man, thank God, that transaction did not go thru. Because as nice as a Childish Gambino red hoodie would have been, I really did not want to foot the $50 price tag. Plus, had I purchased the jacket and decided to wear it out, it would have taken me out of my “social drunk” role and into something that I do not have much experience with. Hipster.

Judging by how some people dress/act in DC, this might not be the worst idea. Maybe then it might be easier meeting people and then everything would be in its right place.

Since You've Been Gone

It’s been about two months since I have left the frozen tundra of Boston and arrived at the tropical paradise known as DC. At this point in time, people have begun asking me which city I prefer. I find this to be a dumb question as there is no way to compare four years of living in Beantown to two months of DC. That said, if I did have to choose one in a game of Fuck-Marry-Relocate, the following would be my criteria in how I would pick my city of choice:

Local Eats

Boston – within walking distance, there was a KFC, the home of the World’s Greatest Chicken Parm, Twin Donuts, Tavern's Sunday Brunch, and plenty of bars/other eateries.

DC – within walking distance, there is a knockoff Big A and a soul food place inside a pharmacy that sells loosies. About a mile away there is a ton of other food establishments including the fanciest Boston Market I have every been to (they serve you your meal!) along with a few Thai establishments.

Winner – Boston.  Even though I prefer B-mart over KFC, the selection is just too plentiful up north.

Hair Cuts

Boston – a local Supercuts that only gave me a good haircut 75% of the time.

Fine, fresh, fierce, my hair's on lock(s of love)

DC – a local Great Clips where my old Asian hairdresser proceeded to make fun of the black people next to us. I would have been scared if she was not holding scissors.

Winner – DC. Have you seen my recent Facebook pictures? Now that’s a good haircut!

Gym

Boston – Bally’s. One or two lines cannot describe my experiences there.

DC – Bally’s. Larger, nicer, has Zumba, very serious professional staff.

Winner – Boston. I take personality over professionalism any day of the week. Plus, I’m not into that health thing much anyways.

Activities

Boston – If you like historical things, I recommend the Freedom Trail or a trolley tour. If you like a bunch of bullshit stated for fact, you would like my tour instead. At night, there are plenty of clubs (imissGypsy), some local bars I never went to, and two ice skating rinks!

DC – Don’t think there is anything worthwhile to see in DC. Plus I’ve only been around for three weekends since I’ve moved. Tune in next time to read all about those adventures.

Winner – Right now, it’s Boston. But it will probably switch over to DC. Just too many things to do in DC, Arlington, and Alexandria which are within a 10 minute cab ride. Plus DC has Happy Hours. That alone is worth the price of admission.

Sports Teams

Seriously, how can you like this?

Boston – Patriots (yucky), Red Sox (awesome), Celtics (super awesome), Bruins (okay if you like hockey. If they win the Stanley Cup, they become great).

DC – Redskins (gross), Nationals (who?), Wizards (yikes), Capitals (choke artists).

Winner – Boston. I gotta support my hometown teams, except the Patriots because I hate them.

Living Situation

Not touch this one as certain “people” read this (or I hope they do). In Boston, I had a bigger room. In DC, I have less stairs to climb in order to use the bathroom. Let’s call that a push.

I’m just kidding – Boston’s got this one though I have a good situation going in DC.

Overall Winner (Winning?)

As you can see by the above, it’s a really fucking stupid question to ask me and I am going to treat the answer to the question with sarcasm, disdain, and a pissy attitude. Like a true New Englander would.

Livin La Vida Loca

Yes, I was not going to leave you hanging for a long time. If you were wondering why I devoted an entire blog to the backstory of my trip – well, if I had combined both blogs into one post, it would have read more like a novel. Which is completely unacceptable in this blogosphere. So I split up the sections into two. In addition, two posts = twice the hits in one week! What? I’m an attention whore.

Where we last left off – oh yeah, nothing had happened.

Equipped with a silver Ford Mustang convertible, Matt and I left Miami to embark on the Florida Keys. For those unfamiliar with geography, the Keys are the southernmost parts of the United States. Even though Miami is pretty damn far south in Florida, Key West is another 3 and a half hours further south. I know, really fucking far away. Hell, you could listen to the latest Black Keys and Alicia Keys albums once in the time it would take to drive there!

In case you were wondering, I drove, which allowed me to work on my side mirror tan. I foolishly left my arm hanging out of the car so the sun’s reflection gave me a nice rectangular burn right underneath my shoulder. Matt was left to DJ the car ride down and he did a fine job. Thankfully, he did not play any songs off of Manster: the Ultimate Collection. That would have led to quite a talking to!

After a long ass car ride, we finally arrived at Key West. Unlike most of Florida, there is not much of a beach scene in Key West so the tanning was left to the hotel pool. And tanning was muy importanté. Look, I’m from Jersey. We tan. That’s what we do. Equipped with a large bottle of Maui Babe tanning oil, I was able to get my color on. Thank God I did or else my fresh chest shave would have gone in vain. (Originally, I was going to start off the last blog post with the misadventures of shaving but it probably would have been awful. You’re welcome.) Ahem, I have color now and I feel awesome.

By now, you are probably fed up with the lack of action from this blog. You are wondering why I am not talking about my drunken adventures downtown. Thankfully, you are in luck as I was just about to write about that… in my next blog post!

Just kidding.

Key West is an interesting place. Since it was not Spring Break or the summer, it was not filled with many hot co-eds. It was moreso filled with families, couples, and townies - lots of townies. To make up for the lack of scene, Key West has no open container laws. So as long as it’s in a cup, it can be out in the open. (God, why didn’t I think of a “Dick in a Cup” parody when I was down there?) This was much needed as most bars served frozen beverages similar to what you can find in New Orleans. These beverages were filled with grain alcohol, 151, and some food coloring. Yes Virginia, there were tons of drunken tomfoolery as we were left to explore the town and drink at the same time.

My favorite drunken mishap – kicking a tree with my sandals on. Yes, what the fuck is wrong with me? Instead of going around the tree to the left, I decided to try to slide past it to the right and wound up kicking it and breaking my pinky toe. The best part was I envisioned myself doing the exact thing before I did it! It was like a really shitty version of Final Destination. But hey, I will take a broken toe (or two) over a convoluted series of events that ends up with a beheading. Thank God for those frozen drinks – they made all the pain go away.

If you are wondering what Matt’s favorite drunken activity was, the answer is ordering room service at 3am Saturday night. And what did he order? Well, $20 worth of chips and beef jerky. SMH.

Other highlights of the trip include taking a ghost tour (Spooky! Scary!) and swimming with the fishes. The ghost tour was kinda cheesy except for being locked in a room with Robert the Doll. Robert is a creepy doll that was the inspiration for Child’s Play. And he’s plagued by spirits from the dead. Or whatever. He reminded me of Chucky and that’s enough to creep me out. By the way, I know this is off topic, but who the fuck sent me that Chucky doll three years ago? I’m still waiting for an answer.

Swimming with the fishes (or known in the Keys as snorkeling) was a lot more fun. Even though I was hindered by a broken toe and a water clogged ear, I was able to muster up enough strength to swim above the second largest coral reef on the Earth. I really wanted to take pictures for everyone to see but I never bought an underwater camera. And as much as I want to destroy my phone, I could not bring myself to submersing it in water. But to make things up to you, here is someone else’s picture of coral reefs.

In conclusion, Key West was a lot of fun. We went to the Waffle House a few times, got drunk a few more times, and did I mention that I got a tan?  And yes, that’s how I spent my summer vacation.

Miseria Cantare

Judging by all of my blog posts, you probably think that I am some sort of a vacation/trip aficionado. But really, that’s not the case. For instance, I am not made of money, sometimes prefer a quiet weekend, and most importantly, do not look like Denny Crane or a gnome. It just so happened that I followed up a trip to Podunk, PA with a weekend in Charlottesville which was followed by a trip to lovely Miami, Florida. Or so I thought…

But before we just jump in unprotected, let’s wrap things up with a little backstory. Normally, I am in charge of booking vacations/weekend stays/”where the fuck dinner be” activities with my friends. Some might say it is because I am a leader and am dedicated to my craft. Most will tell you it is because I am a control freak, stubborn as all hell, and whine excessively when I do not get my way. Honestly, it is a combination of both. (At least everybody can attest that I am passionate.)

This particular trip was different. Perhaps it had to do with my company – unlike, vacations past, this trip did not include high school or college friends. Rather, I ventured on my first trip with a Bostonian (we will call him Matt). For those who know Matt, my condolences. For those who do not, Matt was one of my first friends I made in Boston (I only had to pay him monthly for his services!) and is responsible for helping me meet many “interesting” people/friends at the Brighton Bally Total Fitness. Suffice to say, if I never met Matt at Bally, I have no fucking idea what my time in Boston would have been like. Probably way worse off.

(A sidenote: Matt was afraid of what I would write about him in this blog. So far it’s been pretty positive. We shall see…)

Check out my sweet 'stache!

So where was I? Oh yes, booking the vacation. Well, outside of the airfare, the entire trip was booked the first night we were in Florida. While we had ideas of what to do, very little was set in stone. Even the first night had some mystery to it. You see, Matt’s parents rented this mansion in South Beach for a week. I thought we were staying at a townhouse but nope, it was much bigger (and nicer). And this mansion was next door to a home owned by Ricky Martin! Unfortunately, I did not see Ricky Martin or even Pretty Ricky. Then again, I am not even sure if I would recognize even him as the last time I saw him was in the Nobody Wants to Be Lonely music video (which was awesome). And that song came out ten years ago! Hell, I am not even sure if I would even recognize myself from ten years ago. Luckily for you, I keep all my yearbooks!

Now why would we venture out to the Keys if we could have been “Livin’ La Vida Loca”? Simple, we weren’t the only house guests in Miami. Rather Matt’s entire family was there. And let’s just say they are quite the eccentric bunch. Especially at birthday parties as they like to roast the birthday boy/girl. Considering Comedy Central’s roasts are normally hit or miss and I’d give you a guess at the quality of the roast. Yup, somewhere between rump roast and filet mignon. As you can probably guess, it would not have been ideal for us to spend the weekend in Miami.

So what are boys to do? It’s now midnight Saturday and nothing is booked for the weekend. Well, if you are like me, you grab a computer and commence to shoppin’! Thanks to the lovely Naomi Pryce (yes, that’s the correct spelling – I Wiki’d it), we were able to get a great deal at the Sheraton Suites Key West. And thanks to Royal Rent A Car, we got an even better deal on Ford Mustangs for the weekend. Not always do things work out in the last minute – but this time, it did!

Saturday morning, after a brief sleep, we embarked on a trip to the Florida Keys. As you will soon learn, it was splendid. Which you will soon learn about… in the next blog post!

White America

Avid fans of my Youtube videos might remember a prophetic remark that I made at the end of my 24^th Birthday video – “White People Suck”. Now while I was heavily waisted when I made that statement, there is some validity to it. And there is a ton of invalidity too. If I had to go back in time to that epic night, I would have told myself to do a few things differently – do not become emotionally attached to “Snakes on a Plane”, invent Twitter, and most importantly, change my statement to “White People Are Strange.” That statement became apparent over the weekend when I trekked out to Charlottesville, VA to watch the lovely horse race known as Foxfields.

A disclaimer: I hate Charlottesville. Okay, maybe hate is a tad strong, but the town definitely ranks towards the bottom of my favorite places to visit (right alongside Mechanicsburg, PA). And no, that has nothing to do with not getting into UVA for college (sshhhh - don't tell my dad). That would be petty. And y’all know I don’t hold grudges. Ahem…

According to their website, “For over 30 years The Foxfield Racing Association has provided a beautiful setting for the equestrian sport of steeplechasing.  The alluring but challenging Foxfield course was designed to attract Thoroughbred owners and trainers, and to provide the jockey and his mount with a beautiful ride over rolling lush green turf.” (Works Cite that shit, bitch.) White people not only love horse races, but this event also allows them to dress up in the most ridiculous clothes this side of Halloween. Or perhaps a Baptist Church Easter Celebration.

If I could only use one-word to describe their clothes, it would have to be pastelmania. Seriously, thousands of people dressed up in seersucker or their favorite Easter Egg color just because they could. I was hoping that a little child would start plucking them from the sky, but alas, that could only happen in my imagination (sadly I left my cough syrup at home). It’s probably a good thing because plastic grass would make a turrible green turf.

You might be asking yourself – “Well Jeff, if you hate UVA and you hate fashion, then why did you go to Foxfields?” Too easy! It’s because I hate sobriety and thanks to my ridiculously white Indian friend, Aashish (now known as Roger), I had free passes for the all-day open bar. (I do need to give Aashish some credit for putting up with my “Yo man, you are so white” jokes all weekend. That said, I will not give him credit for wearing boat shoes.)

Alcohol definitely helped me enjoy my Foxfields Adventure as seen by my super silly “look how high I can jump picture.” And since I was neither in pastels nor wearing a straw hat, I felt foreign enough to pose for pictures with a peace sign. Those should hit Facebook soon. Let’s just hope the privacy settings don’t keep them away from you people.

I know, not the best choice of words to end the post. Ahem…

Motion Picture Soundtrack

I would never think of myself as suicidal. But I am that guy who thinks of things like “Hey, wouldn’t a bottle of red wine and Nyquil help me fall asleep?” which is what went through my mind yesterday night. I am aware that it’s not the greatest thought of mine (that’s a whole nother blog topic) but I fucked up my sleep routine (napping until 9pm) and needed something to help pass the wee hours of the night. Sure there are alternatives to a potentially deadly wine and Nyquil mixer which could include working out (gym was already closed), eating turkey, or hitting the town (the rain was turrible), but my mind was made up. So dumb, I know. Of course “stupidity” would be a terrible reason for attempted suicide so at least allow me to explain WHY I was so tired by Friday afternoon. It makes for a better story and a much better suicide note.

I was fortunate enough to travel to lovely Mechanicsburg, PA earlier this week for work. Since I was out of my territory, I was being put up in the finest hotel known to mankind – Comfort Inn. This did not make me happy as I am a Marriott snob. I enjoy my points, waffle in the morning, and most importantly, the free cookies at 5pm. I also enjoy a comfortable bed and a shower that is not aimed at my balls – the exact opposite of what I got at the Comfort Inn. So while my balls were clean, the nights were sleepless.

A lack of sleep would be fine if there were fun things to do in Mechanicsburg. But nope, not in this Podunk town. Considering Papa John’s was voted as the town’s best pizza (seriously) and the highlight of many townies was to attend karaoke at TGI Fridays, you can easily see that I was SOL. I did wind up attending the beginning of Friday’s “Search for the Worst Karaokean” and was sadly disappointed when no one sang Rebecca Black. Get it?

(You know, because I was at Fridays and her song is called Friday... Oh God, I give up.)

All was not lost when I stumbled upon a hybrid Chuckie Cheese/Dave & Busters at the other side of town. It was a hybrid because it both served alcohol and allowed kids to have their pizza parties there. Chris Hanson would be proud. After getting a drink, I headed over to the basketball machine. Sadly, there were issues with the balls getting released (if only they could use the Comfort Inn showers) so that game was not happening.

Dejected, I almost wanted to leave, until I saw a Dance Dance Revolution Machine. Back in high school/college, DDR was my game even though I’m quite uncoordinated. And after a couple of ankle injuries, I was forced to retire from the game. Since then, the only dance game I have played recently was Gold Gym’s Wii Dance Fitness, which I can proudly say I am undefeated at.

Anyway with vodka cranberry in hand, I decided to take on all comers in DDR. A six year old here, an eight year old there – neither were any match for my dancing skills. At that point I stopped, since a couple of the parents were giving me dirty looks. At first, I thought that they, too, wanted to watch me dance. Until I realized that a grown man competing against little kids with a vodka cranberry in hand looked a tad suspicious. And considering I was in the middle of nowhere, the last thing I needed was to be chased out of town by pitchfork wielding townspeople. Oh and I was definitely out of breath after two games.  Too bad I had another sleepless night awaiting…

And now you know what led me to an overlong nap and the possibility of a screwed up weekend of sleep. Thankfully, my red wine/Nyquil elixir worked only for sleep induction (and not death). Because if I really wanted to die, I just would have gone to see the new Madea movie. That would have given me a much better reason for suicide.