I look kinda like Jay-Z. Is that weird?
In other news, I also just won $50,000 at the 26th Annual North/South 100 At Florence Speedway!
I recently saw a motorcycle with my friends, and then more recently, told my girlfriend about it on gchat. Here’s the second-hand version of the story, as told in instant message form:
me: sooookevin and emily and i were walking on pauls streetand we see this motorcycle going soooo fast skidding and like horizontal just cross the street and go behind the buildingand like sparks were flying everywhere and shtiand he crashed into the back of a carso we were like holy fuckwe walked to the end of the street to see if he was ok and were like preparing ourselves to see a dead bodyand when we got there the guy was just walking around in circles, really pissed offlike it was really bad, and insane, but he was like holding his probably broken hand and just being like “fuck man! this sucks!it was ridiculousand we made sure he was ok and asked if we should call anyone or an ambulence or something and he was like no im totally finewe legit thought we just saw someone dieand he like hurt his handand thats ithis bike was like under the back of this dudes carhe must have bailedi have no idea howi think he was a super heroi have no idea either
I am a huge Red Sox fan. No, I’m not an asshole from Boston, I’m a nice person from Boston who loves the Red Sox. Anyway, I went to Yankees Stadium tonight for the first time to see the Sox Yanks game. Here are ten fun facts about the experience:
- Holy crap the place is huge
- I was surprised how horrible the Yankees fans were. They didn’t cheer once all game. Someone sometimes tried to start one, and no one did it. The loudspeaker would blare a round or two of a chant, then just stop. The crowd didn’t continue. They were silent between every pitch. I was with a few other Sox fans; we barely even got heckled. I was shocked. I felt like we were the only real fans in the whole stadium for either team. And then by the seventh inning, the place was basically empty. What the hell is that?
- A beer at Yankee Stadium is $9.50 plus tax
- There is one and only one concession stand in the entire stadium that sells chicken and fries. To get them, we waited in line for somewhere between 1.5 and 2 innings. There was a TV behind the counter.
- Jon Lester is amazing: complete game shutout with 2 walks, 5 hits, and 8 strikeouts.
- Jason Giambi has both the best and the worst mustache in the Majors. Let me rephrase that. Jason Giambi has the best mustache in the Majors, and therefore has the worst facial hair in the Majors. He looks like he should be on Ice Road Truckers. They probably allow sterroids on that show, by the way. Just sayin.
- In my section, a man stomped on people and chairs to get to the exit a few rows below him instead of going to the aisle. One of these people was a woman who was seriously injured by it (he just left). EMTs were called and she was taken out on a stretcher. It actually looked like she could have been paralyzed. I went in thinking I was going to be harmed somehow by being an obvious Sox fan and the only harm done was from one Yankees fan to another for being a huge asshole.
- The graphics on the jumbotron there are easily the worst graphics on any baseball stadium screen I’ve ever seen. This is maybe one of the most important aspects of the game. Get it together, guys.
- Similarly, the sound was all recorded, and it seemed like the loneliest man on earth was back there pressing a button and then giving up on it. There wasn’t a single decent sound or song coming from those speakers all game, and I’m pretty sure there was no organ at all. WHAT THE HELL IS A BASEBALL GAME WITH NO ORGAN? Not to mention the National Anthem AND God Bless America were BOTH generic recordings. THERE ARE PLENTY OF TALENTED SINGERS IN NEW YORK. Again. It. Together. You guys. Get it.
- In the sixth inning, my friend, Kabeer, very nicely smacked away a GIANT HUGE ENORMOUS bug off the back of the Sox fan in front of us. I have been trying to figure out what kind of bug it was. I think it was a GIANT HUGE ENORMOUS beetle of some sort. It was at least 4 inches long and could fly.
My friend, Kevin, coined this story as my Curb Your Enthusiasm moment, and I think he is right, so I will coin it as such, but with one caveat. I have to first say that I CANNOT STAND CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM. I don’t know what it is. I’ve honestly tried so many times to like the show, but in the end it’s just Larry David having an irrationally strong opinion about someone or something, and then whining a lot about it to an irrational extent, and then having a run-in with this current “nemises” or whatever challenges his opinion. Then, he ends up taking a lot of shit in the end for his opinions and ranting and when he tries to triumph over his opposition, he’s shit on by everyone. He should be. He’s a great comedian, but for some reason on this show he just constantly displays the only negative aspect of Woody Allen (he CAN be SOMETIMES, VERY SLIGHTLY annoying) and multiplies it by ten.
What? This isn’t the story, I’m sorry.
So anyway, if you know me at all you know I love sandwiches. More specifically, Reuben sandwiches. I write for The Colonialist, a blog for which I extensively explored the depths of the Reuben sandwich, and if you want you can check out that post here. Anyway, I found out recently about Katz’s Deli which is supposedly second only to The Carnegie. I had to go. Yesterday, I did just that. I didn’t really know what to expect. Here is a short list of things that I should have expected, but for some reason did not:
- It took forever to get to the front of the line, and then forever to get my sandwich
- It was about twice the cost of a “normally expensive” deli
- The man who made my sandwich was very old (although the other cutters were not)
That last one should have been expected because the name Katz refers to an old man. That’s a rule. Anyway, when I asked him for a Reuben sandwich, but with coleslaw instead of sauerkraut, he looked right at me and said, “No.”
“What?” I asked.
“I can’t make you that,” he told me. “That’s not a Reuben.”
“Oh. Yeah, I know it’s not a Reuben,” I returned. “It was just easier to tell you – it’s a different – it’s called a Rachel.”
“I can’t do that. That will ruin the whole sandwich.”
“You ever had a Reuben before?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I said. “I have them all the time.”
“No,” he said, “I don’t believe you have.”
At this point I was losing my cool. I just wanted him to make me the sandwich I ordered. I’ve dedicated my life to the Reuben sandwich, I don’t need a lecture on the “only true Reuben.” To make matters worse, the elderly nature of this man made it impossible to tell if he was dead serious or joking (I’m pretty sure he was dead serious).
“I’ll tell you how I make the Reuben,” he said. “I put the cheese on the sauerkraut, and i put it in the microwave to melt the cheese. And then I put it on the sandwich. If I put in coleslaw, it ruins the whole thing. It makes it soggy and watery and gross.”
“Well could you just put the cole slaw on at the end or something?” I asked.
Again he looked right at me. “Where are you from, eh?” He asked.
“Boston,” I said.
“Boston…” he said. “Everybody smart like you in Boston?”
“No,” I said, almost laughing.
“You’ve never had a Reuben,” he said again. “I’ll make your sandwich.”
“Okay, I trust you,” I said with a level of sarcasm that only I can detect.
“I’ll make you a real Reuben. You want pastrami?”
“Corned beef,” I said. The only good Reuben is a corned beef Reuben. But then again, at this point, I was beginning to question everything I’ve ever known about sandwiches, let alone Reubens. Of course, he was surprised.
“Corned beef!? Okay…Everybody wants pastrami these days….okay I’ll make you corned beef…”
I guess I somehow upset him?
He made me the sandwich. I went to a table and ate it, and I have to say, it was definitively the best sandwich I have ever had in my entire life. I am absolutely certain I will not have a better sandwich, ever. It was beyond perfection. It was simply incredible. The slices of meat were the thickest I’ve ever seen. The sauerkraut was the perfect combination of tastes. I think it’s the only time I’ve ever had “fresh” sauerkraut (whatever that means). The Russian dressing was homemade, and I could taste each ingredient. I should also mention that the pickles (a full plate of them, and a variety of types) were also the best pickles I’ve ever had. I went to the cashier and paid half my life’s savings, and walked out the door.
I am still profoundly confused by the experience.
One of my dreams in life is to some day meet Darren “The Thriller” Miller. He is a professional Dirt Car racer from Milledgeville, IL. His website is at http://darrenmillerracing.com/.
I’m waiting for his domain name to exprire so I can pick it up. So then all these dirt car fans would go to his website and it would be a giant photoshopped picture of the two of us high fiving. And then underneath it would say “Hang tight! The new Darren Miller joint website is coming soon!” I figure a joint website is really an inevitable way to get to meet him. Because once you’re roped into having a joint website with someone, you at least have to sit down with them and talk about how it will be structured, what design concept you should use, and what functions each person serves in maintaining the site.
If you check out his website, you’ll learn to love him too. Here are my 5 favorite things about The Thriller:
- His nickname is “The Thriller” and he’s a white guy from Illinois with a loving family.
- He has an almost-sort-of-unibrow, but not in a bad way; in an endearing way.
- He’s actually pretty fucking good at dirt racing.
- We’re the same height.
- He knows a good number when he sees one. His number is 32d. 32 is the number of Magic Johnson, Karl Malone, Julius Erving, Kevin McHale, Sandy Koufax, Steve Carlton, and Jim Brown. 32 is also the supposed age of Jesus Christ when he was crucified, and I’m not an expert, but I think 32d is a pretty solid bra size too. Also, I should mention that strangely, he himself is 32 years old right now.
My friend, Travis, had an idea to film a documentary about me trying to find The Thriller. I think it might happen. If anyone is interested, The Thriller is actively seeking sponsorship, and I am actively seeking financing for this documentary.
So I am in New York City for the summer. The experience of moving in to my apartment was one I’ve never had before. I was here last summer, but subletting a furnished apartment. Before that, I had furnished dorm rooms in college, and, well, when I was born a lot of the work was done for me. I know, weird. My parents insisted on decorating my room. I was like “guys, I totally know where my crib should go,” and they were like “aaaaboogieboogieboogiee” or some shit like that. Buncha assholes, my parents.
Anyway, I arrived in my bedroom, which really was not yet a bedroom. It was a large closet. A bedroom is not a bedroom if there is no bed. All there was was room, so it was a room, which is really just what a closet is. Unless you put a bed in there. Then it’s a bedroom.
There’s a kmart about 8 blocks from me. Kmart and I became best friends. During the heat wave at the beginning of the summer, I would walk back and forth between my un-air-conditioned apartment and Kmart about four times a day, and carry back as much as I could. Then, I got a futon. Now I’m all settled in. My closet is a metal bar with wheels. My dresser is a set of three plastic drawers placed on top of an identical set of three more plastic drawers, placed on wheels. A night stand is really just a smaller dresser, which is why my nightstand is simply one set of three plastic drawers on wheels. My desk is a laptop “cart.” It’s like a tv dinner tray, but for laptops. And it’s on wheels. I got a tower fan, because tower fans are totally in right now. Actually the fan and the futon are the only things in my room that are not on wheels. It would have been really great if I could have successfully designed my room to be completely on wheels. I would enter bedroom races and ride it everywhere.
Anyway, this all took a lot of effort and time and money. And somehow the best thing in the apartment is still easily the nerf basketball hoop my girlfriend sent me in the mail a week later. It doesn’t have wheels though. But that’s okay because I put it on my roommate’s door. I don’t have one.
So I started this blog over a year ago and made one post.
I think I’ll start writing again.
This is more for people who potentially read this blog in the future, and then scroll down. I don’t think anyone’s really been coming here and continuously being disappointed that I haven’t updated.
Except for me.
Wow, this is getting morose!
I have a new drink for any time I am not feeling like myself. It’s called magic potion. What you do is you get one of those giant versions of Vitamin Water. It has to be the “defense” kind. Drink a bit off the top to make room for the rest of the potion. While you’ll add a few things in, the “defense” Vitamin Water serves as a good base because it tastes good, and both the “Vitamin Water” and “defense” name tags give off a good amount of the right air of placebo that makes this just work.
So first comes the effervescent stage. What you want to do is you get some Airborne from CVS or something, and you stick two tablets in the drink. Wait a few minutes so it all dissolves (shake it up if you feel like it). Then, grab some Alka Seltzer, put a tablet in there too. You might start to wonder here and go “hey, maybe I should put some Mentos in here. I hear if you mix Mentos and Pepsi, craaaaazy stuff happens!” Well, this is a Magic Potion we’re making. Not some silly vaudeville puppet show. Stop thinking and get back to work.
Here’s the complex part. While the effervescent stage is going, you’re gonna need to start a side mix (it’s like when you start mixing egg yolks while you’re waiting for the butter in the pan to heat up so the eggs don’t stick to the pan…and then the pan gets all brown and it’s impossible to clean…I mean you stick it in the sink and leave hot water in the pan but that really only half does the trick, you know? And then you’ve got a dirty pan for the rest of your life. So you have to be disciplined when you’re making two things at once because you never know what may happen). Get out a mixing bowl and put in 1 tbsp of Robotussin, 2 tbsp of DayQuil and 1 Q-tip full of Vick’s VapoRub. Mix it all up and boil it so it sort of all melges together. (By the way the dictionary may tell you that “melge” is not exactly a word. The dictionary is wrong. Words are simply whatever we sound out to get our point across. Seriouptisciously.)
Once you’ve let the side mix sit to get back to room temperature, pour it into the potion and mix thoroughly. Then, on the side, crush 3 Advil tablets and 2 Adarall tablets. Pour those in and mix again.
Now all you have to do is take 4 Oxycontin pills with your first four sips, finish the rest of the potion, and take a few hits of Ecstacy. Different people seem to react differently to different amounts of Ecstasy so I encourage you to experiment and figure out the amount that works best for you.
Anyway, I don’t know if you were sick, depressed, or just hung over, but trust me, together we’ll make sure your rough morning doesn’t turn into any kind of serious matter. And I’m not a doctor, but if you take Magic Potion enough, you wont need one!
OPTIONAL ADDITION: Milk, for calcium, and three eggs, for protein may be mixed if you are lacking in strength or build, but if you need to lose a few, just stick with the regular potion. If you think the addition would taste too gross, then you are seriously lacking in strength or build, and you should definitely add this mix.