March of the Penguins: A Photographic Analysis

Now everybody say, "Holy Diver!" A truly giddy groom, Albert Lee, is surrounded by way more than his recommended daily dose of metal. Way, way more.

I recently happened upon this group shot while trolling for friends' blogs and such. Way back in February, I had the truly awesome experience of being part of the Viva Lee Wedding Extraordinaire. For three fun-filled days, some of the wackiest goofballs in the northeast descended upon Port Jefferson, New York for some matrimonial jackassery.

And a lovely time was had by all.

"A picture is worth a thousand words," and this is true. And I believe the above group shot taken at La Chateau Mezzabarba holds many insights into the various personalities and pathologies that make the featured gentlemen tick. I've run this picture past world-reknowned photographic psychic and delicatessen owner, Madame Phil, and he had some interesting feedback to share.

Below is his analysis. Maybe we can all learn something from Madame's wisdom.

And he makes a delicious Italian sub!

Brian, "I got ya horns... RIGHT HERE!" Austin

This guy's all smooth, like Vince Vaughn at a sweet sixteen party. He puts up the horns with complete ease. White people do the strangest things, as we all know, but Brian's used to that, and plays along with the barest minimum of discomfort.

Dan, "Go Webs, Go!" Posner

Dan has a surprised expression in his eyes, as if he doesn't have control over what he is doing. Clearly, his body has been taken ahold of by a more powerful, yet infinitely sinister force of pure malevolence, in order to do its bidding forevermore. Which would probably explain some of his more scandalous gyrations on the dance floor, later that evening. That's right, Dan... Cthulu made you do it! I'm sure.

Ben "Stealth Horns" Posner

Ben's clearly an experienced metal-head, and is quite at ease giving the "horns." So comfortable, in fact, that he doesn't even feel obligated to raise his arm. He flashes it like a gang sign, down at his waist, as if marking his turf against the encroaching Crips and Bloods that wandered the computer labs of his old college campus. His ear-to-ear smile belies his complete confidence in his gesture. It says, "Just try it, bitch."

Or he's just giving Brian a wet willy down there. Either or.

Al "I say, 'I Do'... to Satan!" Lee

With pierced ear, horns held high, and mouth open in triumphant roar, Al is King. The living room is his Serengheti, and he rules over all. The various underling groomsmen are as gazelles to his mighty lion-like presence and lovely, Asian plumage. We hear you roar, Al... We hear you roar.

"Ro-ar." Just like the Big Gay Animal Boat Ride.

Tom "Forgot His Meds" Crimmins

Tom's trying a little too hard, here. And yet, he strikes a pose, so fruity... it's like watching RuPaul play quarterback. Even though it's supposed to be tough... it ends up being just the opposite. From the quality of the photo, it's unclear whether he's grimacing, or puckering up. The conflicted gaze in his eyes reveal that he clearly has unresolved issues about self-identity and Leslie Nielsen movies.

Ian "Hands of Doom" Shabubu

I never caught Ian's last name, so I made one up. Be that as it may, Ian is clearly happy to be there. The look of his face is completely positive, and nothing more can be gleaned. The more frightening issue here is his hand. I'm not quite sure how many fingers appear, what gesture he's trying to make, or whether or not a tentacle is coming out of his palm.

A little creepy. That's all.

Andy "I Put a Spell on You!" Cherry

The unfortunate thing about this shot, is that Andy's wrist clearly appears way too limp to be anything resembling metal. It's sort of screaming, "Oh Lance! Another passion fruit spritzer at table 3, if you please!" Which, like I said, is unfortunate, because Andy is fairly the most terrifying metalmonger in the crew. I tremble in fear of his almighty wrath. Back in the day, Andy wouldn't hesitate to elimate a few stray Chaminade Seniors if the yearbook spread demanded even multiples of 8 students. Now that he's joined forces with Bill Gates... who knows what horror he's capable of?

Nim "Flawless Victory" Goldshtrom

Oh yeah. Perfect Nimmy. A classic, straight-from-the-textbook "Horns." He performs with such aplomb, it's absolutely nauseating. Seriously, buddy. You're making the rest of us look bad. Amusingly, with such a bright smile, and perfect posture, this shot could be straight from a pee-wee soccer team group picture... well, except for the tuxedo and the hand gesture. N-Rod, always raising the bar. Or cleaning out the bar, like he did later at the wedding reception.

Nick "I Keep Smiling but the Voices Keep Talking"Lessard

That's a big smile. Isn't it? A little unsettling, just how wide, and gleeful, it is... y'know? Like, you can picture him with that smile while he's burying you alive, out in some godforsaken patch of desert somewhere in the middle of the southwest. Where only the coyotes and rattlesnakes can hear your muffled cries.

Great. Now I'm gonna have nightmares for weeks! Thanks for creeping me out, Nick!

Brian "Master of All He Surveys" Craine

Look at that face! He's a cool one, all right. He's daring the photographer to tell him to move an inch to the left. Just try it, shutterbug. And I'll bitch slap you so hard. So hard. Please, just give me an excuse. That's all I ask. I haven't gotten to hit anything all day.

Fear me. I am Craine.

I am... the Pimp Daddy.

Mark "Ey! Look at 'dem Horns!" Gaeta

Somebody call McDonald's. 'Cause this guy is just lovin' it! Y'know... I'm pretty comfortable with my identity to safely say that he is just radiating unbridled sexuality, here. I can totally see this pose in some cheesecake calendar, "12 Months of Hot Metal-Head Groomsmen." Mark Gaeta, "Mr. February." Seriously. My teeth are sweating.

Too sexy!

(Actually, truth be told, Al had enough groomsmen, I think we could make a 12-month calendar!)

Steve "What the hell are these guys making me do, now!?" Behnken

With professional decorum, and a resigned smile, Stevie B's putting up with all the hijinks in La Chateau Mezzabarba... once again. He thought the other guys were through making goofy shots. So far, he's played along with the "everybody's cross-eyed" shot, the "no pants" shot, and the groomsman pyramid shot. He even had a little fun with the "everybody punch Tom in the face," shot. (It took a dozen shots to get it juuuust right!) He's never thrown up 'The Horns," spontaneously before, but he has read several books on the subject, so he's well-informed. He knows the gesture was popularized by classic metal rocker, Ronnie James Dio, as well as holding the position for extended periods of time partially relieves carpal tunnel syndrome.

Well, I hope everybody enjoyed the photo analysis.

Hopefully, I'll update the blog next weekend, after I finish my very first, honest-to-God week of Medical School! Wish me luck!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What did you think of the photo analysis? What are your own interpretations of the guys' expressions in the group shot?"

And So It Begins...

Well, I've made it nearly a week at medical school. And not to jinx myself but...

"so far, so good!"

Now, in all fairness, I haven't actually worked yet. This has just been the orientation week. And I really must say that I think this'll be almost okay. The people are fairly down-to-earth, and the administration seems eager to help. I definitely do not feel the same vibe I got at Columbia way-back-when, during my Post-Bacc days. Of course, this may be because everyone's a little more relaxed, since they don't have to be so competitive. After all, as I've been told repeatedly since I got here, the most important formula to remember is:

"C = Doctor"

Which basically breaks down to, "What do you call the person who graduated last in medical school?" "Doctor."

I think I can live with that.

Of course, that being said, I've already started printing out some of the assignments (I'm trying to be all good and scholarly, starting out) and this stuff is no joke. I'll be kicking my butt for the next couple of years, that's for sure. Which kinda stinks, because the Dropkick Murphys are playing a Thursday night at the Starland Ballroom in NJ this November... and I most certainly cannot go. Much to my disappointment. And while we're on the subject, if you want to go see a great live rock show, go see the Murphys. They're great live, and have some awesome songs. They're from Boston, which is only forgivable by virtue of their excellent musicianship. Only!

Katie, Mary, and Ally cavort on the Jersey Shore... while Tom's physique is fortunately covered from view. Sadly, no free medical equipment was found on the beach.

I realize that this'll probably be the last goofy-type, pre-planned blog entry for a while. I won't have the luxury of scanning a lot of pictures, or writing paeans to long-lost acquaintances. Pretty much, I anticipate this blog to have a series of terse, stream-of-consciousness ventings which may or may not make a lot of sense and will probably involve bad language.

It might look something like this:

NOVEMBER 11th, 2005
"Shit Shit Fucky Shit"

here we go again, another blog. should be working on biochem who the hell cares about the krebs cycle anyway? goddamit im not sleeping tonight AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN! lost my watch in the cadaver i think it fell in the spleen why to my pants smell what day is it

you wanna hear a joke yeah me too. HA!

only got a three on the last quiz. How was I supposed to know what plane was transfixed about the somatic dysfunction in the cervical spine? am i psychic?

so tired so tired

Seeya next time!

Kill me!

So, yeah, it might start to look like that. Just try to take it with a grain of salt. Or better yet, just wait until the holidays. I'll have some juice left over for creativity. Maybe!

Meg and Tom share a tender moment in the pool.

NYCOM, The New York College of Osteopathic Medicine, will be my stomping grounds for the next few years. Whether I'll be the stomp-er, or the stomp-ee, remains to be seen. I'm probably going to have to push myself harder than I ever have before. It'll take a lot of sacrifice, but I really do feel like I have it within me to actually make it through.

God I hope so.

To reiterate from my last post. I've had a great year this year. Despite the ER job, and staying up all night making t-shirts, AL-bums, and "Just Married" signs, it's all been wonderful. I've had the blessing to be relatively free to help organize Al's abduction and subsequent bachelor party; throw a couple of great shindigs, including a Halloween Hootenanny, football fete, Birthmas Spectacular, Instant Cinco de Mayo, and SummerSlam '05; see Al and Michelle, Matt and Marissa, Kat and Andrew, Andrea and Chris, and Jenna and Jay get married; gone paintballing; seen Jimbo's triumphant return aboard the aircraft carrier; built a beer pong table; and see Batman Begins three times.

So it's been a pretty damn great time. In my own humble opinion!

Either that lip spasm is contagious or these foxy gals are posin' ... Sultry Style! Peg McWeeney's come-hither stare steals the thunder from Katie, Mary, and Ally. Which probably explains why they're all pouting.

All the Crimmins Sibs together again. And somehow they're all getting along... for now. Mary, Meg, Mike, Katie, and Tom take over the kids table.

If you're wondering what these pictures are all of, I'll shed some light. They're from the family weekend down at the Jersey Shore, in Manasquan. I've never actually sat down and quaffed a few brews with my sibs before, so it was a truly fun time. Plus, we saw Wedding Crashers... which was absolutely hysterical. If you like Vince Vaughn's shtick, then you'll love it. If you really can't get over Owen Wilson's crunked-up shnoz, then you might want to skip it.

But I thought it was great.

And it'll probably be the last flick I see for a while.

Until next time, crew!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What was the scariest transition you've ever had to make? A big change, such as starting a new school or moving to a new neighborhood or finally getting the sex-change operation, in which you really weren't sure how it was going to play out? How did it work out in the end?"

Commencements: Endings and Beginnings

"Wait a minute! This thing looks like neither a 'foot,' nor a 'ball'! What the heck?!" After unveiling the custom-made beer pong table, "Duff Stadium," Tom takes the opportunity to announce Brian Craine as the MVP of the previous November's Fabulous Football Fete. Chris and Tom spent a month designing and building the table, and Al is simply in the picture for raw sex appeal.

To borrow a line from Lord of the Rings: Return of the King,

"... to all things, come an end."

And this, my friends, is the end of my life as I know it.

I don't want to get into an overly-sentimental wuss-fest here, but it'll probably be inevitable. Because tomorrow I start med school. Tomorrow, I'll be at NYCOM in my goofy khakis and three-button polo shirt, listening to some extremely intelligent person explain in painful detail how seriously insane my life will be for the next four years. Then after that'll be residency. And after that, career... sorta like Renton's monologue at the end of Trainspotting. Well, all that except the whole addicted to heroin thing. And being Scottish. And the baby with the twisty head dealie.

...weeaugh...

But I digress... as usual.

"Shiny goodness..." Behold the glossy centerpiece to Chris and my creation.

As I reflect on the past summer, I can't help but feel a little regret. Because no one ever gets to do everything they want in a summer. Deep down, we still want those seemingly endless summers of childood... when we didn't know if it was the first week of July or the last week of August... every day was a whole, new, carefree adventure. When the buzzing of cicadas played their bittersweet lullaby as I lay my downy head upon my cool pillow... and gran ma ma would...

- - - WE INTERRUPT THIS SMARMY NOSTALGIA TO GET BACK TO THE FRIGGIN POINT! WE NOW RETURN YOU TO THE ORIGINAL POST, ALREADY IN PROGRESS. THE VIOLIN PLAYING WILL END IN T-MINUS 3... 2... 1... - - -

... and so that was the last time they'd let us back in Tijuana! Geeze... you'd think they never saw someone in a Barney costume shoot up a Mexican brothel during a coked-up frenzy before! But anyway, Grandma had a great birthday regardless. Cest la vie.

Seriously though, there just never seemed to be enough time (or money) to do everything I wanted to do. But, in fairness, I had a lot of great things happen this summer. I went to some wonderful weddings, went paintballin', threw a couple of great parties, went to Ozzfest, got to spend a weekend at a beach house with my family, do a little hiking...

... oh yeah, the hiking thing. Mount Washington. Heh heh. Yeah. That, didn't exactly work out the way I planned it... (segue!)

"Remind me again why we did this?" Jay takes a lil' breather on one of the "half-way" cliffs while Tom quietly has a stroke.

Well, long story short: we didn't go to Mount Washington. Long explanation short: because I screwed up. Who'da thunk it, that a twerpy little campsite at the foot of the tallest mountain in the northeast would be booked solid when I called to inquire the night before the trip in August? The Mount Washington Fiasco died a cold, lonely, anonymous death in the wilderness in the wake of SummerSlam '05, Jim's return home, and my last days at St. Francis. It simply was not given the attention it required. And thus, we did not go.

However.

"Save the Day" Jay suggested an alternative, less suicidal, plan for the weekend. So Brian and I headed up to Tarrytown for a weekend of imbibery, Kung-Fu Husslery, BBQ-ery, video gamery, mountain hikery, Batmanery, and some other Very Bad Things. I'd have to say, however, in truth, that an otherwise perfectly pleasant weekend of eating, drinking, and watching awesome flicks in the Gutierrezes..es...es' kickass apartment was unceremoniously interrupted by an afternoon hike (read: at 12 noon... 100 degrees in the shade) up a fun lil' 70 degree incline for a couple of hours. But then again, afterwards, we felt less guilty about chowin' down and drinkin' up. So...

Two Thumbs Up.

Wait til' next year, Mount Washington!

"Are You Threatening Me?" Jim can make those scary faces with the best of 'em. Which is why the military is a perfect fit for the gent. And the glasses are fabulous, just so you know!

Alas, due to a fun weekend upstate, I missed out on saying goodbye to one of my closest buds. Regret Numero Dos? Missing ol' Jimbo's farewell gala. Lamentably, an otherwise awesome handful of days and even a couple more nights of drunken hare-brained schemes of Jim and Tom ended with an anti-climactic afternoon in Manhattan at the Peculier Pub. (The name of the joint was purposely mis-spelled, but I'm not sure what the specific mis-spelling was, so just accept it, and let's move on...) Chris, Jim, and I fortunately were able to get in our requisite Deep Conversation of the Jim Season, then. (For the uninitiated, there are two Jim Seasons: Christmas and Summer) But the final man-hug and "I'll talk to ya soon," opportunity was not to-be. I regret that. Jim, I love ya buddy. And Georgia Peach sends her southern regards!

"This is a celebration, bitches! Enjoy yourselves!"

Read the Shirt! Who's the Champion? Yeah... that's right!

I always regret not spending enough time with Al. So it's sort of a no-brainer. I regret that he and Michelle live all the freakin way out in Port Jefferson. Why not "Port Washington"?! Then you'd be a whole lot closer. After all... it's a port! It's a president! The first president, by the way. How else are you supposed to move up in the world? Go for the brass ring, guys! Seriously!

This segment was just an excuse to put up a picture of Al. Whatever.

Worlds collide as Mariano "Walks out to 'Enter Sandman'" Rivera meets James "Rocks out to 'Enter Sandman'" Hetfield at Yankees Stadium. I think my head would have exploded if I had witnessed this in person.

Regret numbah' 'tree: My yankee pictures got irretrievably lost when my camera didn't rewind (like it was supposed to! Just wait 'til your father comes home!) and the film was inadvertently exposed to horrible, horrible sunlight. Hiss! Ally and I went to the game with Chris, Curt-dawg and various other representatives from the Westbury Crew. Yanks beat Boston. God it was sweet. We were up in the bleachers and we got a shot in front of the scoreboard as Sinatra's "New York, New York" rolled across the field like a dry martini. But while the memory remains, the picture is in lost-film heaven.

Plus, there was no Metallica concert this year. Which stinks. But I still went to Ozzfest, and that utterly rocked. So you win some, you lose some.

Kat and Jenna take aim for their opening salvo during the first round of the SummerSlam '05 Beer Pong Tourney. Ben is lurking in the background. Which is just typical.

The fourth on my litany of summertime regrets? I missed out on Esteban Caliente's block party.

Again.

It always seems like something interferes with that particular weekend the "Hot One," sets aside for the bash. Since it woulda been a great way to cap off the summer with my friends, I regret it all the more. I hope you guys had a great time.

Decaff Time for you, Tom! The recent steroid scandals reach all the way to La Casa de Crimmins. There's no telling what lengths some people will go to for the annual softball deathmatch at SummerSlam '05!

All regrets aside, it's been a great summer. It's been a great year. Hopefully, I'll still be able to get out and see you all from time to time... but for the most part, keep me in your thoughts and prayers while I venture into the uncharted waters of Medical School.

If you're nice, I might just name a piece of medical equipment after you!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What was your favorite memory from the summer of '05?"

Post Party Depression... and Happy Koala Cubs

"Do You Want to be Friends?" When Tom gets "that look" in his eyes... he's pretty freakin' creepy... "HANDS DOWN!" (Sorry, that was an awful pun.)

Oh, the agony of post party depression. It gets a guy sort of weird. A little odd. A trifle off-kilter. A tad strange. A smidgen loopy. A bit bonkers. A mite wacky. An iota demented. A pinch psychotic. But mostly redundant.

I've felt a bit down lately. Which is typical after whenever I throw a party. I usually put forth so much energy and creativity and effort into these shindigs, that it sort of takes over my life. And afterwards, whether it was a huge hit or a miserable misfire, I sort of experience a listless "feh" period... which usually lasts until Ally thinks of making a scrapbook or Chris has a brilliant idea about making a custom beer pong table. Then I sort of get back onto the imagination/obsession roller coaster once again.

It's a vicious cycle.

I've also felt pretty guilty about not updating this blog. It seems like I have to make up stuff during the lull periods, but when I actually have interesting things happening, I'm too busy doing them to have time to regurgitate it all onto "Effin' Sweet." One of those not-exactly-ironic things Alanis might sing about.

Something stinks in here. Probably the Blog is backing up...

I have so much to talk about, and much less space to do it in. Sort of like what Willy Wonka was always rambling about. I recently was clued-in by some close friends that my blog entries have a way of absorbing A LOT of time, by being EXTREMELY long. I guess when I want to talk about going to Ozzfest, I should wrap up my ponderings about the etymological origins of the suffix "-fest" in the first 9 or so paragraphs. Sorry, my bad.

Probably not surprising why only my most obsessive friends actually make it all the way to the feedback question at the end.

But be that as it may, I won't be able to talk about everything I want to talk about this time. Since my last entry a whole lot of stuff has happened, and I'll probably need to portion out these anecdotal nuggets over the next couple of blog entries. Next week will be busy! And so will I, as I hurtle inevitably towards my destiny at New York College of Osteopathic Medicine on August 23rd.

AAAAAAA!

Lance Armstrong, I must break you!

One of the things that's happened lately is that I was lured into the woods, enticed by promises of excitement, exercise, and adventure, only to be subjected to hours of torturous mountain biking. In all fairness, though, I loved about 75% of the experience, it was just the horrible 25% which was nearly the deal-breaker. Because there's nothing I find more enjoyable than laboriously propelling my 230 pounds up a seemingly endless, boulder-strewn switchback trail on a borrowed, light-weight, aluminum bicycle at an agonizingly plodding pace... sucking wind, while my gazelle-legged lady is gaily and effortlessly sailing up the slope ahead, shouting over her shoulder...

"Isn't this FUN, Tommy?"

It's a good thing I love you, Ally. It really is. But seriously, I did have a good time. But it really was exceptionally exhausting, and I give all you avid mountain bikers many props for voluntarily engaging in such a challenging pastime.

Anyone for Blockbuster and 7-11, instead?

When a one-handed Horn simply won't do... Tommy pulls out the two-fister on the Sabbath!

I suppose I need to touch upon my Ozzfest experience... even though I think I covered everything quite nicely last time. I tell you, I almost dislocated my shoulder from all the pats on the back I was giving myself for all my cleverly downloaded pictures I got from google. Yeah... there's nothing more Amish than a guy who blogs about an event he won't get pictures of for another two weeks. But then again, we took graduation pictures of some students a whole year before they graduated at Chaminade... and we always got away with it.

Be that as it may, you can also look forward to some 'pitchers' from Ozzfest in an upcoming blog. Full of fun, satanic goodness... with an extra dose of Louie.

The USS Carl Vinson aircraft carrier rolls into Norfolk Naval Base while the sailors man the rails in dress whites. Simply must be seen to be believed.

Regardless of your political affiliation. I don't care if you like Jon Stewart or Bill O'Reilly. It matters not if you're a starchy, war-hawk republican oppressor or even a dirty hippy... watching as a United States aircraft carrier comes into port, with all the sailors lined up at attention along the outter rails in their dress white uniforms... is just cool. No debate. Just awesome.

Our dear friend Jim finally came home from his stint in the middle east at the end of July. And I think we can all agree... we're much happier to have him home. Of course, the adventures of my travelling down to Virginia to see him off the ship, and the various other exploits of our collective banditry and jackassery will be sure to be divulged in a future entry.

And just to whet your appetites... some of the exploits involve...

...drunk girls.

OH! Now I've said too much!

Clearly, Al did his finest work during his famous, "8-Bit Period." What's a better way to spend a Friday night, than to patiently and persistently paint a pixelated portrait with a pal? Play pool? Poppycock!

Then, of course, we quite naturally come to SummerSlam '05, our annual barbecue reunion and softball deathmatch. And, also quite naturally, I will defer all discussion of said event until a later date, as I'd like very much to ramble unceasingly about all the trivial minutiae of the day... including why N-Rod has to be on my team next year.

Seriously, Nim.

But in regards to the above image, Al and I spent many of the wee hours leading up to "The 'Slam," in my kitchen laboring at our respective projects. While I was trying to adequately caricaturize a Marianist Brother with a baseball mitt for a t-shirt stencil, Al was crafting this masterpiece! Taken right from the actual graphic, Al faithfully recreated the immortal Mega Man in all his 8-Bit glory. Personally, I hope he follows this up with a series of other Nintendo-themed paintings, and I think I just might commission him to make me a Legend of Zelda mural!

Oh, right ...but when she says, "Kill'em All," it's cute! Meg inevitably joins the trucker hat set. Damn you, Ashton!

Ahh, the fun of finishing off a roll of film.

You know, if it weren't for trying to wrap up a roll in order to send it to the developers, many of the truly weird and awesome pics would never be taken. Of course, it's a good idea to make sure your roll is 24 pictures or 36 pictures. Because then you'll be finishing off that roll with a lot of strange-ass shots. This very conundrum happened to me, as I was asking various siblings to ham it up for the camera, only to have the camera frustratingly not rewind after the shot was taken. It was only until I got up to shot #29 that I realized I was using a 36 picture roll of film instead of a 24. Sheepishly, I just kept on taking weird posed shots. The above one was the very last.

Doesn't Megan rule?

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What is one thing you'd love to get to do before summer ends, and why?"