Effin' Sweet

Tough September

2006-09-12T13:37:00.000-04:00

The anniversary of the terrorist attacks will always be a somber one for me. It's hard to put into words what I felt yesterday. As luck would have it, I ended up going east on the BQE last evening, right around dusk, the sky was a dark indigo, and all the lights were up in downtown Manhattan. The traffic was moving at a nice, brisk pace, and I was lucky to catch some excellent metal songs on WSOU (frustratingly, the DJs never identified them). Cruising down the highway, I was afforded a gorgeous view of financial district, complete with the brilliant twin beams bursting into the sky.

I always get a lump in my throat when I see the NYC skyline these last five years. Almost like I'm being reminded of a lost relative. Strange, because I never visited the World Trade Center and I only occasionally visited Manhattan in general. But seeing the gaping void, the overt absence, left in that view of New York City never fails to elicit an almost visceral reaction in me.

Left to my thoughts on September 11th, I found myself pondering the state of the world today, and somewhat embittered by how our society-at-large has lost sight of the bigger picture. That the concepts of "right" and "wrong" have grown so murky. This is obviously a rant brewing, but I'll spare you all my observations of the "good," the "bad," and the "ugly" of 9/11. But I'll finish with this anecdote - While I was driving down to Princeton for an interview, I was listening to a talk show on 92.3. They were taking calls from listeners who wanted to share their thoughts on the anniversary of the attacks. The most heartening contribution, amazingly, was a guy who's immigrated and lived in the US for less than two years since being born and raised in Iran. To paraphrase, he said, "[He] loved America, and [he] would die for this country." An Iranian-American said that?! Then there's hope for us all!

When I saw his picture on the front page of the newspaper, the last thing I thought was that it was the death notice of the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin. And I tell you truthfully, tears welled up when I saw the headline. He may have been goofy, and any bargain-basement comedian proved he was highly mock-able, but what Steve Irwin radiated more than anything else, to me, was kindness. He was passionate for his work, for the animals in his care, for demonstrating the beauty of nature. Steve's love was shared with his wife, Terri, and his little daughter, Bindi. And despite fame, celebrity, and financial success, he never lost that affability, that honest friendliness. I think it is because of this quality of character that he remained a popular and beloved international entertainer. To his credit (and probably his embarrassment), the Australian government offered a state funeral for him. Pomp and circumstance were never his style, and his family naturally said, "Thanks, but no thanks." A common bloke with an uncommon talent for sharing the beauty of nature with millions of fans around the world, it is with a heavy heart to say goodbye to Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter.

In the spirit of Steve Irwin's fun-loving nature, enjoy some "Steve Irwin Facts."

"And Now for Something Completely Different..."

And in the "WTF" category, we hear that Anna Nicole Smith's son, Daniel, died suddenly only days after his Mom gave birth to a new baby girl. Only 20, experts are still trying to figure out what the cause was. From the minute I saw this poor kid on the Anna Nicole Show, I've felt nothing but pity for him. And frankly, punching-out at 20 is just not fair. While my opinions of Anna are somewhat less positive, I'll save my criticism and just extend my sympathies. Sheesh... poor guy.

And while we ponder the fickle capriciousness of life, check out Gay Robot.

RED SUX, Part I

The differences between Red Sox players and Yankee players are so astounding, I could devote an entire article to it. But I'd rather just take little pot-shots, instead. Today, we'll talk about "class." As in, the Red Sox organization has none. Anytime I hear a Boston player quoted, it's always some mealy-mouthed criticism of the Yankees, to one degree or another. Whether it was Varitek whining, or Schilling shooting his mouth off, the song remains the same - childish complaining. Okay guys, I guess it was cool to be a grown-up talking trash at the Pinstriped Goliath, back when your entire organization was under a magical spell of failure for nearly a century. But now, after you finally got your pathetic monkey off your back, and you realized you guys just sucked for 86 years, it's time to behave like sportsmen. The only charming guy in your crew is Johnny Damon and... oh, right, he's on the Yankees, now. And you got David Wells - the ass. You know what they say about birds of a feather... Come to think of it, take Gary Sheffield, too - he's only good for griping, so he'll fit in great.

But what brought on this surge of Boston Bashing? Why kick them while they're down? After all, they've got two chances to make the playoffs - "slim and none." Two articles. First, it's that pig, David Ortiz, (who has now lost all sympathy from me for his present heart condition) started mouthing off about how he "deserves to get the MVP award this year," and that Jeter doesn't. Frankly bub, I don't care if you have a couple of superior stats to The Captain, at least he plays the entire game. Unlike you, who merely has to waddle over to the plate and swing, Derek actually, you know, fields. And is having a great offensive year as well. Oh, and his team is going to win the division. Kinda puts your selfish little merits in perspective, huh? How "valuable" is a player on a team that's not playing in the post-season? No Mucho. So put that in your filthy helmet and smoke it, you bum. And keep your mouth shut about real athletes. The second article dealt with Willie Randolph and Joe Girardi, two former Yankees who are now very successful managing the Mets and Marlins, respectively. The article was questioning who should be cited for his managing skills - Willie or Joe. And, with that ever-present class and humility, each manager downplays their accomplishments and congratulates the other. No back-biting, no cheap-shots. Just class.

Best Group Shot - Ever

Best shot of, frankly, the best day of my life. Some of you may have been wondering when I was going to give my review on the wedding, honeymoon cruise, married life, etc. And truly truly I say unto you - "I'll get to it". So many ideas and thoughts have been popping into my head these days (as you can imagine, I have plenty of free time), and when I finally venture over to a working computer, I'm usually writing about what I'm feeling at the time... hence, my one-man pity party that you got to read in my last article. Don't worry, I'm over it. Things are looking up and hopefully I'll be gainfully employed in a new and exciting career - Drug Dealing! It's the wave of the future, I tell you!

This picture makes me all sorts of happy.

Worlds Collide - Metallica on The Simpsons - "We Don't Take Rides from Strangers."

Feedback Question of the Day:
"So How Are You?"

Gone Huntin'

2006-08-31T21:22:00.000-04:00

"By Jove! A sixty-thousand-a-year job with bonuses and two week paid vacation!"

Hey guys! I'm back again. I'll have to keep in mind while I'm typing this that a whole lot of time and events have passed since I blogged the last time. Well, let's see... I got married, had a big party, went on a trip... it's been an eventful August! Needless to say, I will return to these topics at a later date, when I'm in the proper mindset and leisure time to properly blog about them.

Sheesh. Flaming hoops I can deal with.

Ah, this was the blog I was so looking forward to writing. To be fair, I really didn't want to break this news in such an impersonal way. But in the months and weeks leading up to the wedding, I didn't really want to declare - "Hey! Guess what? I decided to quit medical school!" But, alas, it is true. I'm no longer a med student. I will never be prescribe medicine. And pathetically, my witty "Trust Me, I'm a Doctor," t-shirt has become a cruel joke... a never-to-be consummated fashion statement.

I hate to just drop the bomb and move on. It's old news to me - I called it quits back in May, but I didn't really start to share the info until after I returned from the honeymoon, mainly because I didn't want have the "So what are you going to do now?" conversation stealing thunder (and perhaps some happiness) from the wedding event. Certainly, my and Ally's immediate family knew immediately, but beyond them it wasn't exactly broadcasted.

This will most certainly be a topic I'll discuss further in depth at a later date. Believe me - I have plenty to say on the subject - on the lifestyle of doctors, cost of medical school, and where I stand with it all. However, in the here-and-now, I'm far more concerned about finding a job. That oft-frustrating and spirit-crushing pursuit of employment which up until now I have been spared, has occupied my thoughts and energies all summer long. Now that the excitement of the wedding can no longer distract me from this quest, I have given it my full attention.

This past week, I took a break from applying for medical and pharmaceutical sale jobs to pursue a field I'm actually genuinely interested in - the comic book industry. After a block party epiphany, I aggressively sought positions at Marvel, DC Comics, and Wizard Magazine. And to my astonishment and unfettered excitement, Wizard responded immediately. I was contacted the day after applying for a Production Assistant position by the Production Director at Wizard Entertainment (the company that produces Wizard Magazine, Toyfare Magazine, Shonen Jump, etc.). "Could you come in for an interview?" he asks. "I most certainly can," I respond.

One catch.

Wizard Entertainment is not located on Long Island. Nor is it located on Manhattan Island or any of the five boroughs. Nay, Wizard Entertainment is located in a lovely little hamlet called Congers, a mere forty minute drive and two bridge crossings away from my apartment in Queens.

I go to the interview anyway, despite my misgivings about the distance (hoping against hope that the salary will balance it out). Walking into the Wizard Entertainment lobby confirmed everything I dreamed it would be - big comfy couches, pinball machines, a foosball table, and floor-to-ceiling decorations featuring comic book heroes. I was in heaven. The atmosphere was laid back, collegial, with employees sauntering around in t-shirts and jeans. Of course, I looked like a big nerd with suit and tie interview outfit on. I met the Production Director and we had a great conversation ("He likes me," I think.) Gravely, however, he explained that the entry-level position did not offer a whole lot of money. And although the position offered the opportunity to have a foot in the door of the industry, with future prospective networking with comic book and other publishing companies, it simply didn't seem like a practical career move at this stage in the game. Needless to say, the drive home was decidedly grim.

Ever have to turn down your dream job?

I googled "thumbs down" and got this. Seems appropriate.

As I've said on numerous occasions in the past, I don't want this blog to be a forum for me to whine. And if I've dallied a little too closely to on the border between "sharing bad news" and "whining," I apologize. But down in the dumps am I, and this is what happens when you blog sad.

Moreover, I wanted to both update you on my life, as well as explain why I won't be blogging too much in the immediate future. If I happen to find a sweet 9-to-5'er working in Advertising, Publishing, Marketing, Sales, Public Relations, or whatever... I may just be a little more regular. Think of stable employment as the fiber of blogging digestive tract. A tad gross, but nonetheless accurate. Should you have any job leads in any of those fields... or if you know of any jobs you think I might be good at, you know how to get in touch with me!

This Time, I'm Serious

2006-07-13T23:03:00.000-04:00

Amidst personal turmoil and other fun pre-wedding emotions, I've neglected my poor, oft-lamented Wedded Blitz for far too long. Now, I'm not throwing down the blog gauntlet much like Anskatius, but I am planning on getting this shiznit down. Every member of the bridal party will get their moment in the spotlight. Unfortunately, I have to qualify that declaration by adding that the spotlights may not be as long or as encyclopedic as my previous nuptial "who's who" entries. In showbusiness, they say, "There aren't any small parts, just small actors." Well, in Wedded Blitz, "There are no small wedding-folk... just Tom procrastinating to the last minute... as usual." Okay, that's not as popular a saying... but I'm spreading it around nevertheless... maybe it'll catch on for Louie's future... event. (I'll say no more, but he is hereby required to announce a certain something on his blog other than his love of Dimebag Darrell. All well and good, my hellenistic hombre, but I think it's high time you declare your OTHER love, y'know? And I don't mean "souvlaki.")

Okay? So that's it - fasten the seatbelts chilluns, I'm bloggin'.

Okay, that was fairly gay.

What Are You Callin' an "Epidemic"?

If you don't want to read through this bad-ass republican conservative, Norman Rockwellian rant... skip down the article to Superman... If not, don't say I didn't warn you. Believe me, I can already hear you scoffing from here... but seriously, Official Rush Limbaugh sites and Anne Coulter fanfics aside... I've noticed that the mainstream internet seems to slant a bit towards the political southpaws. Okay, perhaps to put it plainer, the mainstream internet attitude often is "not coinciding with what your's truly thinks." Perhaps I pick and chose my issues... and more than likely, I'm being a bit over-sensitive about this (hey, I'm trying to be as even-handed as I can, here) but I can't help but notice the terminology certain writers published on a certain well-trod e-mail and search-engine provider, Yahoo, uses to describe a fairly benign... and not to mention, typical, annual event. Anti-American Subtext, or Just a Poor Choice of Words? Hey, I may be overthinking this one... but what the hell is this? "Flag Epidemic?!" We do understand what an "epidemic," is, right? Not exactly a term with a positive connotation. Although I'm going a bit hyperlink crazy, here, I figure I'd provide you with dictionary.com's take on the noun known as "epidemic." Just because Americans across the country are all simultaneously displaying red, white, and blue in greater frequency in the days approaching Independence Day (incredible, I know!) I fail to understand how this constitutes "news," or why it would be termed an "epidemic." Semantics aside, the tone of the article makes the whole "phenomenon," out to be some sort of mass hysteria... bleating sheeps emblazoned with patterns of Old Glory. Next thing I'll expect on Yahoo's front page is an in-depth article about an insidious rash of pine tree abductions occuring in the weeks preceding December 25th. The horror! What are those crazy Christians doing now? Oh, can't the rest of the country all be as wise, worldly, and ironic like we are on the blue-state, cosmopolitan internet? Flag waving in July isn't an "epidemic," it's an annual celebration of patriotic pride in our home. We as Americans have no common heritage, no common customs, and no common language... so we take heart from the few symbols that unite us with a common thread, and the most prominent of these is the American Flag. No nation on earth shares such an affinity with their flag. It's not an embarrassment, and certainly not an epidemic... it's what unites a recently naturalized dude from Pakistan and Elmer Smith who can track his geneology back to the Mayflower. They're both Americans. So don't hate on the flag... okay?

Box Office Results - Not Exactly, "Up, Up, and Away."

And since we're on the subject of patriotic skittishness, let's take a moment to consider the new Superman movie. Much has been made in that his famous slogan has gone from, "Standing for Truth, Justice, and the American Way," to "Standing for Truth, Justice,... all that stuff." Gee, the "American Way," was a lot more popular back when everyone was scared of the Soviets taking over. Ah well. I think it's a lame cop-out... because if Supes isn't an apt representation of "the American Way," I don't know what is. He's the strongest in the world, acts quickly and decisively to solve the world's problems, and is resolute in the moral rightness of his actions. For better or worse, that's pretty much how the average American views the world. But anyway... off the soapbox...

First off - It's a great flick. If you haven't seen it yet, I recommend that you do. As long as you are really into Superman and like highly-philosophical super-hero movies with plenty of religious overtones and can handle a major plot departure from the regular comic book continuity. I won't get into what it is, but it's been out for a while, and you really don't have any excuses not to see it. However, I'm willing to put down even money that you've heard at least one local tough, collar proudly-popped, complaining about what a "gay" movie it was, or how it was a waste of two hours. And, loathe as I am to agree with any of their ilk, I can't deny that they have a point. The movie is long, the movie is plodding, and the movie doesn't have a whole lot of action in it. But that's really the problem with Superman in general... the guy is too damn, well, "super." He's super-fast, super-strong, super-invulnerable, can fly, shoot laserbeams, see through walls, and has super cool, minty breath. With the exception of green crystals, nothing can hurt him. Aside from two excellent action sequences (and they absolutely demand to be viewed on the big screen - no joke!), the movie is a lot of character development and pretty imagery. I loved it, but I think the average bub off the street has gotten a bit spoiled over the last couple of years watching Wolverine and Spider-man mixing it up with colorful bad guys over witty banter. Despite Kevin Spacey utterly throwing himself into his role as arch-fiend Lex Luthor... he's really not much of a match for Superman. Thus, Superman Returns, sadly, despite being a clearly lovingly-crafted film, is shaping up to be a financial disappointment, while the X3 still remains the summer's box office champ. Booya.

"But Captain Jack Will Get You High Tonight... "

And to sum this puppy out, I'll mention that I just caught Pirates of the Caribbean 2 the other day. Excellent little flick. Definitely 2-plus hours of cinematic fun... all except the last 5 minutes of the movie, when it takes a major mis-step. Suffice to say, a certain main character completely acts... well, out of their character, resulting in a severely (seemingly) permanent plot development. Yeah, this movie basically just sets us all up for the third one, but I tell you, there will be repurcussions and a certain someone is going to get their comeuppance. American action movies have their own set of rigid moral requirements... and after this particularly uncharacteristic incident, something mighty bad must happen to them in the third one. Mark my words.

To be honest, the last 5 minutes of the movie left kind of a "throw-uppy" taste in your mouth. You're having a great time, watching goofy pirates and witty banter and incredible action sequences, and then all of a sudden, this one main character does something so crappy, you wish Jerry Bruckheimer just cut the movie short with "To Be Continued," instead. It's definitely a deflating sense of afterglow after an otherwise damn fun movie to watch. Tell ya what, guys... if you haven't seen it yet, go see the movie, and then leave just towards the end when Captain Jack Sparrow returns to the Black Pearl and shoots the kraken. Just leave. Because if you sit for the last five minutes, I promise you, you're going to walk out of the theater with an expression on your face, like you just saw Tom Hanks appear out of nowhere and punch your grandma in the mouth. It's just that disquieting. You're not even excited about the next sequel, you're just looking forward to a certain character getting what they deserve.

Okay... stay tuned in Wedded Blitz for the next three weeks. It's gonna be lively.

Lest WE Not Forget (Part Deux)

2006-06-15T22:14:00.000-04:00

Shame, shame upon me... for forgeting some of my most cherished 80's movies from my childhood. So after much reflection, some helpful blog comments, and a couple of procrastinated hours on Google and IMDB, I present the second half of my favorite flicks from my '80's childhood - 10 more flicks from my halcyon youth.

Let me reiterate:

1. This is not listed in any order of importance - like a parent's children, they are all equally loved

2. These are movies made in the '80's that I watched in the '80's. Thus, typical "Top '80's Movies" staples, The Breakfast Club, Saint Elmo's Fire, or basically anything with Molly Ringwald, is not listed, because I didn't see them until the '90's.

Project X (1987)

Comon' guys, don't tell me you've never seen this one! Matthew Broderick, a very pre-Mad About You Helen Hunt, and lots and lots of chimpanzees! This movie pretty much had me wishing for a pet chimp well into the mid-'90's. Anyway, for those of you who may have forgotten, Project X is about a washout Air Force cadet who gets a new appointment training chimpanzees to fly planes on simulators. Why? The military is testing the flying chimpanzees to see how long they live after they subject them to lethal radiation, to see how long human pilots could survive in a nuclear war. The bad situation gets worse for Matt, when he forms a special bond with Virgil, who had been trained to communicate with sign language. This one's got a couple of heartbreaking moments before the thrilling climax.

Random Quote - Virgil: "Apple."

Weird Science (1985)

As I mentioned in the last blog article, I did not see Fast Times at Ridgemont High during the '80's. I did not see Phoebe Cates in that movie. However, I did see Weird Science. And I did see Kelly LeBrock. And... well. There ya go. This movie is amazing on so many levels, I don't know where to start. True, it has Michael Anthony Hall, but his involvement is forgiven on account of Kelly LeBrock, an off-the-wall story, and Kelly LeBrock. Where John Hughes came up with a story that involved a couple of unpopular nerds creating a magical woman out of a Barbie doll and a computer, whilst donning bras on their heads, is anyone's guess. I think Tab had something to do with it - it was the '80's, after all. Complete with über big brother, Chet (played to perfection by none other than Bill "Game Over, Man!" Paxton), and a young, pre-criminal record Robert Downey Jr. as "Cool Guy #2," and a worthwhile message, and you have an instant classic. And did I mention Kelly LeBrock..?

Random Quote - Mutant Biker #3: "Can we keep this... between us? I'd hate to lose my teaching job..."

Teen Wolf (1985)

Now, this was the movie that paved the way for this article. After Chris mentioned it in the comments section, I realized I had made a grave error in forgeting this Michael J. Fox tour-de-force. Scott , Boof, Stiles... Bad Guy Mick, Blonde Pamela, the Theater Director ("Uh, Wolf... Person?"), Chubby, the Coach... surfing on top of the "Wolf Mobile"? This had all the proper elements for an '80's teen movie - socially awkward lead, wacky best friend, good girl brunette "buddy/love interest", evil blonde goddess, game-winning montage (complete with montage music), 30-year-old "teenagers," and werewolves. I remember watching this as a kid and being absolutely terrified of going to high school, what with the parties with all the sex games (Did Chubby ever eat all that jello?)... Hey, I was, like 8 when I saw this flick for the first time... Believe me, I have a new appreciation for Stiles' perverted imagination and party-planning skills, nowadays.

Random Quote - Scott Howard: "GIVE ME... A KEG... OF BEER. And these."

Berry Gordy's The Last Dragon (1985)

A lazy Saturday afternoon wouldn't be complete without The Last Dragon popping up on some random cable channel in the '80's. This flick hearkens back to a simpler time in Harlem, when Vanity hosted neighborhood video dance clubs (whose futuristic architecture always reminded me of Laces, the roller skating rink), where multi-cultural, gi-clad gangs could swagger where they pleased, and arcade owners hired pro-wrestlers and thugs to take out a pesky young man named Leroy Green, who was only attempting to improve his martial arts skills in order to attain "The Glow." Those were good times in Harlem... full of breakdancing and kung-fu. Man, I miss the '80's.

Random Quote - Shonuff: "I AM the Shogun of Harlem!"

Cloak & Dagger (1984)

I would be remiss if I didn't include a Dabney Coleman movie in this list somewhere... am I right? I just like saying his name, "DABNEY COLEMAN." What a great name... Cloak & Dagger - a cool movie, but don't remember the whole story. It always stuck with me, though, because it's all about a lonely little kid who has an imaginary friend based on one of his secret agent toys - "Jack Flack." "Jack Flack" and the little boy, Davey's, neglectful father are both played by Dabney. In a classic case of '80's logic, Davey somehow intercepts US military secrets that have been concealed in an innocent Atari game cartridge (WARNING - BLATANT PRODUCT PLACEMENT!). Jack Flack helps Davey outwit and elude some nasty Soviet spies, until Davey's Dad gets his act together. As a G.I. Joe nut back then, who was always wrapped up in all those imaginary adventures, I was always enamored with this movie. And speaking of G.I. Joe...

Random Quote - Davey: "Jack Flack always escapes!"

The Boy Who Could Fly (1986)

Uh, yeah. This movie is all about a lonely girl befriending an autistic boy who lives next door and is obsessed with flying. By the end of the movie, he flies. That's the movie. I think she also falls in love with him. Yadda Yadda. But what I truly love about this movie is the subplot featuring her little brother, Louis, played by a young Fred Savage. That's right, baby. Louis is a HUGE G.I. Joe fan. He's got them all, lined up, posed all around his room. Every scene, he's got handfuls of them. He even sets up a cemetary in the backyard for them (what boy in the '80's didn't bury their action figures at one point or another? We were a morbid generation, we, the last to experience the final gasps of the Cold War... The subplot involves Louis trying to ride his Big Wheel (Oh God, I love all this '80's stuff!) around the block, only he keeps getting beat up by the neighborhood bully and his knuckle-dragging throng. Each time he tries, he has to rebuild his destroyed Big Wheel, and try a different strategy. When he finally does it, with a pimped-out ride that would make Xzibit jealous, and the bullies get their karmic desserts... it's just awesome. Watch the movie just for Fred Savage. And G.I. Joe.

Random Quote - Bully #1: "There's no water in this gun?" Bully #2: "So what's in it?" Louis: "PISS!"

Red Dawn (1984)

The USSR and Cuba join forces and invade America. Remember what I was saying about the last gasps of the Cold War in the '80's? One scene that I'll never forget was when all the Russian paratroopers landed outside the high school, and when the teacher went out to talk to them, they mowed him, and most of the student body, down with their evil Soviet machine guns. This movie was crazy, with death camps, and firing squads, and C. Thomas Howell. Luckily, a small band of heavily-armed teenagers fight a guerrilla war against the Communist occupiers, calling themselves the "Wolverines." Only later, after I discovered comic books, did I realize how cool that part was. When I was a kid, I was mystified at all the guns they were able to get, and how freaking scary it would be if we were ever in the middle of World War III. Luckily we had Patrick Swayze, Charlie Sheen, Jennifer Grey, and Lea Thompson to kick some Socialist asski.

Random Quote - Jed: "C'mon! We're all going to die - Die standing up!"

The Princess Bride (1987)

Long before the Hot Topic kids got their pale, grubby hands on this, The Princess Bride was an odd little flick, full of irreverent humor, imaginative characters, and a lot of clever dialogue. While the movie is supposed to be about a dashing hero saving his true love, all everyone remembers are all the great secondary characters and the one-liners. There are so many great lines, I'll be sure to annoy someone with my pick for "Random Quote," but it simply can't be helped. I remember watching this wacky adventure tale - told as a story by a grandfather to his sick grandson (played by Fred Savage!) - not quite sure what to make of it. A lot of the humor went right over my head, but it didn't stop me from enjoying it. Plus, it had Andre the Giant (as a Giant, imagine that!) and Mandy Patinkin (Who also has a great, sayable name - MANDY PATINKIN... MANDY PATINKIN) as the Spaniard, Inigo Montoya. Timeless.

Random Quote - Vizzini: "Ha ha! You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well-known is this: never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

Three Amigos (1986)

This was another movie I remember watching on the couch while my Dad cracked up over every line. I'd watch him laugh, trying to figure out what was so funny. Sure, Steve Martin fell down, or Chevy Chase accidentally killed the invisible swordsman... but most of the stuff didn't make any sense to me. It's interesting, being a kid and watching a movie. Whether it's a comedy, or drama, or action, you really don't catch the overall story, or most of the dialogue. You can follow the plot, to a point... but mostly, you're watching out for when people get whacked in the head or something. Three Amigos is an awesome movie, and only in recent years have I understood how freaking funny it is. Looking at it now, I'm absolutely floored by how creative movies used to be. I mean, "singing bush"? "Invisible swordsman"? "My Little Buttercup"? "Chevy Chase was funny"?! The drugs must've been good back then... or the writers.

Random Quote - Ned: "Sew, very old one! Sew like the wind!"

"Jefe, would you say I have a plethora of pinatas?"

One Crazy Summer (1986)

This is the second of the two John Cusack movies directed by Savage Steve Holland. The first, being Better Off Dead, is a movie I still have yet to see. Why? I just don't know. But what I do know is this - One Crazy Summer is a great, great '80's movie. I loved it as a kid - a cartoonist, a boat race, a killer dolphin, and Bobcat Goldthwait. Mysteriously, both of Savage Steve's Cusack flicks follow (heck, they may have designed them) some of the classic '80's teen movie guidelines - a rag-tag band of misfits have to save an orphanage or something from some greedy snobs, and the only way to do it is to beat them at either a ski or boat race. (Very similar to John Candy's Summer Rental, which had come out a year earlier). Why these ski/boat races are so important is never fully explained, but it sets up a great climax for the end of the film, when the wacky misfits whip out an amazing secret weapon after the mean snobs pull every dirty trick in the book to get ahead (even though they have a top-of-the-line yacht and the good guys built their boat out of driftwood and Big League Chew) and come from behind and win. Even though South Park later parodies this plot point, it never gets less entertaining.

Random Quote - Egg: "Ack Ack, let me tell you a little story. A story about a little fat kid who everybody made fun of, and nobody liked and he had a twin brother, and everybody said he never looked like his twin brother, but he wanted to..." Ack Ack: "Egg, where you that little boy?" Egg: "No! No! But I used to beat the shit out him! "Why are you so fat? Why are so ugly?" Aaagghh!" Ack Ack: "Great story, thanks."

Lest WE Not Forget...

2006-06-03T04:52:00.000-04:00

Flipping through the channels today, I found one of my all-time favorite movies showing on cable - Back to the Future. It's towards the end, Marty is falling apart on stage, trying to play the chords to "Earth Angel," hoping his father will stand up for himself and finally kiss Lorraine. He's looking at the picture that once showed he and his two siblings, now nearly faded away... Marty's hand is disappearing in front of him, in what was probably the height of movie special effects back in the day, when suddenly George McFly knocks the mean red-head kid (who stole Lorraine from him a few moments earlier) onto his butt, grabs Lorraine, and plants a big smooch. Miraculously, Marty's back, his siblings are back, and most importantly - his prodigious guitar skillz are back. It's one of many great moments of a great movie.

But to my dismay, as the movie cuts for commercial, I am confronted with the cable station's method of presentation of Back to the Future... it's called, "Three Men and a Chick Flick." Is the "We" (presumably standing for "Women's Entertainment," or something) network somehow insinuating that Back to the Future is a "chick flick"?!

"Great Scot! I love Huey Lewis and the News!"

Back to the Future is many things - a great '80's movie, a soundtrack showcase for Huey Lewis and the News (Goin' BACK - IN - TIME!), arguably one of Christopher Lloyd's best roles (Doc), and further proof that Michael J. Fox is awesome. But a "chick flick"? Never.

I'm not bashing chick flicks, either. Everything has its place - even chick flicks. I myself have a soft spot for los flicas chicas. I've gotten a kick out of You've Got Mail, and have caught myself watching Kate & Leopold more than once (although the latter may have more to do with my unresolved Hugh Jackman issues... but I digress) But under no circumstances, can Back to the Future be even loosely considered a "chick flick." And I'm willing to bet that chicks everywhere would agree.

In no particular order, I present my Top Ten '80's Movies. This is a completely arbitrary list, with no order of significance. The only criteria I'm following is thus: These are '80's movies that mattered to me in the '80's. There are no retroactive "favorite '80's movies" that I first saw in the 90's or later... otherwise this list would be a lot longer than ten!

Back to the Future (1985)

Back to the Future, like The Matrix, is a great, great film that spawned a somewhat unnecessary trilogy. Though the sequels were good, this first one easily stands alone as an excellent story. Seen in my misty, halcyon youth in the 1980's, I later assumed I only loved it because I was a kid, and it had a time-travelling Michael J. Fox in it. Not so. This movie can be appreciated on its own merits today - great story, great cast, great soundtrack, great dialogue. This isn't just one of my favorite '80's movies - it's simply one of my favorite movies of all time!

Random Quote - Wino: "Crazy Drunk Drivers!"

The Goonies (1985)

For any child of the '80's, The Goonies isn't a movie - it's a cultural touchstone. We've all seen it, cherished it, wished we were in it. This is childhood dreams purely distilled, the finest kids movie ever crafted. It has all the right ingredients - a treasure map, an asthmatic hero, booby trap-laden tunnels, the chubby kid, pirates, a superstrong mutant with a heart of gold, the Asian inventor kid, shorts worn over sweatpants, and Corey Feldman. One day, I fear they may remake this beauty, complete with superfluous CGI and a hip-hop talking parrot... but such hackneyed attempts to duplicate this masterpiece will only demonstrate The Goonies' majesty.

Random Quote - Chunk: "In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max's toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play."

Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)

One of my all-time favorites. Seriously. I know I'm sort of wallowing in hyperbole, here. But this seriously is in my ultimate top-ten. For serious. This infinitely quotable flick, with an off-the-wall, random story, unforgettable characters, and a weird garage in the middle of the woods makes you wish you could spend the day with Ferris, too. And let us not forget, that this is one of the few great '80's movies to also have the distinction of inspiring the name of an excellent ska band. Combining great dialogue, a main character that continually breaks the fourth wall, and radical editing stye, I like to think of this as the Citizen Kane of teen movies. What other flick could combine "Danke Schoen" with "Twist and Shout" and make it work so well?

Random Quote - Grace: "Oh, he's very popular Ed. The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, dickheads - they all adore him. They think he's a righteous dude."

Ghost Busters (1984)

Ha! Like I'd ever forget this one! Another great, quotable movie (I never realized HOW quotable until Gordo entered our lives). But really, back in the '80's, what kid could resist a movie with ghosts and the comic stylings of Harold Ramis? Not this one, let me tell you! Of course, to truly understand the significance of Ghost Busters, you have to picture a time when everyone was wearing the Ghost Buster t-shirts and listening to the Ghost Buster song on the radio. Inevitably, the movie would spawn a worthy sequel, as well as a cartoon series and toy line. Yay, capitalism!

Random Quote - Dr. Peter Venkman: "I feel so funky."

Gremlins (1984)

Gremlins, man! How could I not include this one? Although the first one was a whole lot scarier than its goofier sequel, it didn't stop retailers from merchandizing the hell out of Gizmo and his reptilian foes. Colorforms, coloring books, dolls, toys, Happy Meals, video games... (I'm surprised they never tried a Saturday morning cartoon!) I would also be remiss if I didn't mention another significant aspect of Gremlins' impact on my 6-year-old mind... apparently a young, doe-eyed Phoebe Cates turned me irrevocably onto brunettes for the rest of my life. The resemblance is uncanny... y'know what I mean? Phoebe's other significant impact on '80's cinema is the classic Fast Times at Ridgemont High... and though I love that movie, I haven't included it because I didn't see it until only a few years ago. But even though it's not on the list, it still won't stop me from posting this:

I think if I say anything more about this, it will just get me into deeper trouble...

Random Quote - Gizmo: "Bright Light! Bright Light!"

Flight of the Navigator (1986)

Remember this one? The kid from 1978 gets taken in a time-travelling spaceship to 1986, only to be pursued by NASA? This was a fun little Disney flick that showcased some neat special effects that still sort of hold up to today's viewer. This kinda looks like the protype technology theat lead to the "liquid metal" T-1000. When I first watched it, back in the day, I was confused by all the time-travel logic, but years of incessant comic books and sci-fi movies have cleared up any confusion. I just think it's a cool little movie, wherein a boy gets to command a space ship, befriend an alien computer with Pee Wee Herman's voice, travel through time, and adopt a tiny little orange critter. What more could you want?

Random Quote - Max: "See ya later, Navigator!"

Pee-wee's Big Adventure (1985)

I guess while we're on the subject of Pee-wee Herman, I should mention this gem. Directed by Tim Burton over 20 years ago, Pee-wee's Big Adventure told the story of Pee-wee's quest to regain his beloved stolen bike. Honestly, you probably haven't watched this in over ten years, but it's still a lot of fun to watch. What's interesting, now, is that you catch some of the more adult humor in some of the dialogue that you completely missed when you saw this back in the '80's. This is the movie that made you dance to "Tequila," this is the movie that bestowed the pearl of argumentative wisdom, "I know you are, but what am I?" to a grateful world, and this is the movie that made us all wonder, "IS there a basement in the alamo?" Watch this again. You won't be disappointed!

Random Quote - Large Marge: "Be sure and tell 'em Large Marge sent ya! Ha Ha Ha!"

Big (1988)

Most boys of the 80's had either one of two different movie-Tom-inspired dream jobs - one was following Tom Cruise's footsteps in Top Gun and becoming a Navy fighter pilot, the other was following Tom Hanks' character as Vice President in Charge of Toy Development ("...and they pay you for this? Suckers!") in Big. Like Back to the Future, you can watch this movie a million times and always enjoy it. Great scenes, great lines, and even a Jon Lovitz role! The white tux, the racquetball game, "I don't get it," and of course, who could forget the famous FAO Schwartz scene? "Heart and Soul," anyone?

Random Quote - Josh: "Well, okay... but I get to be on top."

The Karate Kid (1984)

Whoops. Y'know, after plucking this heartwarming picture from the internet, I've realized that there's some sort of cartoon carrot riding in Miyagi's breast pocket... oh well. It's still a tender moment. Karate Kid was a great movie when we were kids. Who amongst you has never tied a headband on while practising the "crane kick"? That's right, we've all done it. We learned the wisdom of "wax-on, wax-off," that bad guys always wore the black gi, and that blonde guys named, "Johnny" were always the baddest of all. I fondly remember being so fired up by watching the movie, that my brother and I would be having full-on living room-demolishing karate battles by the time the credits were starting to roll. Ahh... childhood.

Random Quote - Miyagi: "Banzai!"

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982)

"E.T. Phone Home!" An entire generation wept, when that lovable little guy died at the hands of the creepy government scientists and scary crashing-through-windows spacemen. Heck, I'm sure there are a lot of fellow 20-somethings whose distrust of the government took root with this movie. Don't let E.T. die! Don't put him in the refrigerator! Look! Look! The flowers are blooming again! E.T.'s alive! Almost two decades before the emotional manipulation of Titanic, E.T. had us all laughing, crying, cheering... rinse and repeat. Like Gremlins later on, E.T. was everwhere - toys, play-doh, underoos, unintelligible Atari games... Strangely, E.T. doesn't come on TV that often. To be honest, I haven't seen the movie in a long, long time. How could such a much-beloved classic be overlooked?

Random Quote - E.T.: "Be Good."

For the Love of Chris

2006-06-02T02:34:00.000-04:00

"Remember when there was only one set of footprints?
That's when I was carrying you!"

Yeah, I'm sure some of you guys out there could make a couple of jokes over the title of today's blog article... but truth be told - I'm doin' this one for the Anskatian. Recently, over at his own blog, Chris has drawn the virtual line in the sand, cast down the e-gauntlet - he's going to write 30 blogs in 30 days. He's already blogged once - June 1st. Today is June 2nd, and I have officially responded. I've declared myself his "blog spotter." Much as a training partner urges on a power lifter (and makes sure he doesn't crush his ribcage with too many weights on bench press!), I will try to encourage his consistent barrage of blog. (It might get messy)

Doin' the Bull Dance, Feelin' the Flow... Workin' it, Workin' it!

On a more personal note, I still have a lot of things to say blog-wise, and before I go and get myself employed or something, I better post my shiznit, y'know? So take note, oh faithful commenters - all three of you out there, you won't have as much time to post your messages on my individual articles... so fire the editor, abandon the spell-checker, and full steam ahead, okay? (And nothing is more confusing than some Johnny-Come-Lately Commenter posting some message on an article that's, like 5 articles deep. I get the message forwarded to my e-mail, and I have no freakin' idea what you're talking about. Don't tell me what you think Jesus would say if you took Him to Hooters! That train has sailed, my procrastinating friend.)

I could probably make a joke about how "hot" this book is right now... but that'd just be beneath me.

So, to keep things short and relatively normal, I'll share my thoughts on the phenomena that is Da Vinci Code (I'll try to resist excommunicating people and stuff - but no promises) . Upon realizing about a month ago, that I was one of the few remaining people on the continent that hadn't read the Da Vinci Code, and that the movie was soon coming to theaters, I finally broke down and read the damn thing. And all-in-all... it was a good story.

Maybe it was just some naked Italian dude making snow angels... Who knows?

As a good Catholic lad, I try to take criticisms and comments about the Roman Catholic Church with a grain of salt. With every 2000 year human-run institution, it brings with it a bit of a blooper reel. "The Inquisition?" Yeah, that was bad. "Indulgences?" Hmm, we probably could have handled that one better. "That recent 'molesting' thing?" Don't get me started. But in all fairness, let us not forget all the schools, hospitals, and charities that have been run worldwide by those "spooky papists" for hundreds of years. I'm going ahead and making a bold statement here by saying that I can't think of another singular global organization that has done more good for people around the world than the Roman Catholic Church. Not to mention that it's always the Catholics we turn to, every time Dracula comes back to life.

Do you realize that I have no eyebrows? Da Vinci! Some freakin' genius!

Whoa. This isn't supposed to be an soapbox for the Catholic League, here. All I want to say is that I sorta resent it when all sorts of suspicion is cast upon the entire institution - coverups, creepy white guys in red robes, clandestine meetings, sanctioned murder... to provide one last great boogeyman for our jaded imaginations to fear. And while the story is clever, it says in the very page that "x, y, and z are facts," and they simply aren't. Without that first page, I'd have no issue with the work of fiction. But with that first page of brazen declaration, the narrative takes a somewhat self-righteous tone at certain points. The theories persuasively presented in the story have been debunked and dismissed by a majority of the historian community, but the characters in the story arrogantly counter by saying that "That's just what THEY want you to think!" With that sort of logic, it's hard to rebut, because any argument made by a scholar against the message apparently makes him part of the conspiracy. In addition, a lot of the "sacred feminine" sounded a lot like some college guy trying to impress some girl he met in his "Women's Studies," course. According to the book, the Roman Catholic Church destroyed the female-led pagan religions which celebrated, "the male and female balance in nature." Pagans may have done that, but they also did a lot of kooky things, too. And I have to remark that women were relegated as second-class citizens or worse for thousands of years prior to establishment of Christianity, and that they certainly didn't enjoy any better rights anywhere else in the world beyond Europe.

Why bother casting a real albino when you can make your own out of a pale Englishman? Check out The Albino Code!

What I liked about the book - I was heartened by the fact that the Bishop was manipulated, rather than being some sort of sinister mastermind. When he finally realizes what is happening in the story, he tries to make things right. He is an idealistic, though a bit misguided, character. As for Silas, the creepy albino monk, he is a deeply troubled man, though a pawn as well. His zealous faith is perverted in the cause of one man's monomania.

What I didn't like about the movie - The Bishop is a creepy bad guy. He's prepared to kill. He's the arrogant, high-handed clergy stereotype that Hollywood loves to stick sideways into as many flicks as can be fit in. He tries to come to the rescue in the movie, but for reasons that are never adequately explained.

Whatever answers the cryptex might hold, it still doesn't explain the hairdo, Tom

What I didn't like about the book - The condescending tone of some of the narrative, the "Oh, Let me tell you what REALLY Happened!" kind of attitude. The "Oh How Could those Ignorant Old White Men get it so utterly wrong?" message that is basically beat into you from start to finish.

What I liked about the movie - Tom Hanks' character is actually a dissenting voice throughout the film. Challenging many of the theories put forth by other characters, he takes a couple of swings defending the Big J Man Upstairs.

All in all, despite some of my philosophical differences, I found The Da Vinci Code an enjoyable story to watch, or better - to read. So enjoy... just don't take it too seriously.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"It sounds like people want to hear the bad news first... any other takers?"

Free Floating Hostility I: Misspelled Names and Inverted Sexism

2006-06-01T03:10:00.000-04:00

Nice Face!

Well, Cinco de Mayo has come and gone. We had our little basketball tournament and fajita cook-out. And yes, I got my wish to see Three Amigos for the occasion. As the days following had passed, as that weird salsa aftertaste finally faded, as the muscles in my back slowly knitted themselves back together (you cannot fake being in shape when you play basketball... especially while getting triple-covered by Mad, Danny, and Lamothe!), and as I eventually regained use of my knee joints during this merry month of May, I've had many impulses to blog about one thing or another that's stuck in my craw for one reason or another. Usually, I forget about them... but this particular month, with all the sturm und drang I've gone through, I've decided to stir the venom around a little bit.

Oh yes, and to publicly answer to the commented assertations of a particular loyal blog reader - You don't know the news (neither good nor bad)... I wasn't talking about the surprises of X3.

But my personal announcements will remain unrevealed for the time being, so I can proceed with my personal fury being directed towards some especially deserving targets.

Before I let loose my tirade, let me pose a question to you all - Am I a bad person because I am tired of hearing about Natalee Holloway? Yes, it is tragic that a young woman with her whole life ahead of her disappeared over a year ago without a trace. I feel sorry for her family. But frankly, her story does not need to be on the national news consistently for this long. I'm going to hazard a guess that many people, young and old, disappear every year - from senseless accidents, murder, or worse. So why is the plight of a perky blonde white girl from heartland, who made one very stupid drunken decision in Aruba, somehow still of national importance a whole year later? Right now, there are earthquakes, war, civil unrest in Africa, and - Good God - Brad and Angelina just had a baby! Why are we still hearing about Natalee Holloway?

And thus, with that innocent question out of the way, I bring you my first of many to-be-blogged-about pet peeves -

Deliberately Misspelled First Names

I hate you, Ashlee Simpson. I hate you, so very...very much.

More to the point, it is the "phonetically" misspelled names that bug the hell out of me. For example - "Natalee" "Ashlee," and to a lesser extent, "Aimee." And, y'know, now that I'm looking at them, I guess that I just hate it when lazy-ass parents spell a name that should end in a "y," with a "ee". It just smatters of ineptitude. Ending with a "double e" is little kid spelling. It just sounds childish and ignorant. I guess the elementary school teacher I used to be just instinctively recoils from such mis-use of the English language. Strangely, these lapses in nomenclatural good taste seems to stem primarily from the Mid-West. On both coasts you get a lot of those "last name-first names," like "Madison," "Taylor," "Tucker," and "Piper." And while I'm not exactly crazy about those ones, either, the "double e" names simply piss me off beyond rational justification. Somehow, I think dumbing-down the spelling of one's first name is just setting that kid up for a life full of bloated expectations and colossal failure. Poor Natalee has become a cautionary tale, warning of the dangers of getting drunk on a Caribbean island and staggering into the surrounding jungle with a couple of the local boys. And Ashlee Simpson... I find it difficult to form intelligible sentences at the mere mentioning of the name of that succubus. It's also difficult to type when your vision goes blood red. Suffice to say, until I can calm down long enough to type a proper index of my vitriol, that Ashlee Simpson's blight of an existence is reason enough to never name your child with a "double e." Ever.

So there you have it - idiotic name spelling apparently leads to inevitable disaster. Keep that in mind, folks. Okay, on to my second pet peeve... one that always rears its indignant little head whenever I have the misfortune to wander around any shopping mall on Long Island for any appreciable amount of time. A trend I've witnessed progressing to such obnoxious levels as to question whether or not you've entered some bizarro-parallel world where good taste has not meaning and decorum has been abandoned...

Inverted Sexist T-Shirts

Just in case you can't read that, it says, "Lil' Slut." And yes, women wear this.

I realize that I'll probably get in trouble over this one, but then again, nobody likes to hear bad news - Women, these shirts are fucking degrading.

To coin a phrase "inverted sexist t-shirts," direct insulting characterization towards the wearer. For example, if a guy wore a shirt that said something like, "All I'm Interested In Is Boobs," that would be sexist. An inverted sexist t-shirt would be when a girl had one on that said, "Check Out These Headlights." I'm hardly what one would call a "bleeding heart," but I recognize the justice and morality of the women's rights movement. This centuries-long process of courageous women striving to be recognized as equals with men, not only in America, not only in the Western World, Hell - this is probably some intergalactic struggle for parity - has brought hard-fought-for rights to all women. Sexist and degrading stereotypes are challenged and swept away, never to be employed again. And to any sensible, mature person, these are all good things. So obviously, after generations of brave, determined women broke down all those barriers, it would make perfect sense to a new generation to gals who've inherited all these advantages - to celebrate those very same shallow and demeaning stereotypes!

As I walk through the malls these days, I'm bombarded from all sides with t-shirts sporting the most inane messages I could ever imagine (and seriously people, it's 2006 - t-shirts are already freakin' inane!) "My Daddy is Richer Than Your Daddy," "If You Buy Me Things I'll Pretend to be Your Girlfriend," "I'm Too Pretty To Do Math," "Hooray For Rich Guys," "Buy Me $tuff," "Gold Digger: Like a Hooker, Just Smarter," "Distracted by Shiny Things." This gripe is much in the same vein as my distaste for the obnoxious messages girls these days have spread across the butts of their sweat pants, "Juicy," "Princess," "Keep Staring." What surprises me more is the utter lack of uproar over this stuff. I could go on and on about what I think of this, but I think I should probably just shut up, post some more pictures, and let them speak for themselves...

I love rape humor, don't you?

Whoops! Too late!

Nobody asked

"Mt. Me"? Is that in the Skank Range?

It boggles my mind that someone would actually want to wear this crap. Oh well. It's too bad that Mother's Day has already passed, this website would've really come in handy!

Well, I feel a little better, now. But make no mistake, I'll be complaining again real soon!

Feedback Question of the Day
"So, bad news or good news first?"

X-tremely X-orbiant X-ultations

2006-05-27T23:15:00.000-04:00

They Say, "Third Time's the Charm..."

Not that they didn't get it right the first two times around.

Hold on guys, I plan on spending some quality time with my favorite make-believe people, here. If you'd rather not sit through my exhaustive gushing over my hands-down favorite movie of the summer (who cares if it isn't even June, yet?) then I advise you to check back around Tuesday evening (hopefully I'll be better at updating by then)

This very morning, I snuck out with the Anskatian and Skatty 3.0 for a matinee showing of X3. While the discounted prices were nice, and the lack of local toughs is always appreciated, it still felt strange to watch a blockbuster movie on opening weekend in a nearly empty theater. Here, I respectably will disagree with my compadre, in that I do prefer to see such guilty pleasure flicks in the boisterous throng of a theater filled to capacity with over-eager nerds, geeks, and dorks (My People!) True, there are always obnoxious teenagers in the audience... but you also get to be a little obnoxious yourself, which can be fun... especially with a movie like this. I still remember watching X2 for the first time, going absolutely nuckin' futs when Colossus armors up for the first time. It's also cool to be in the company of a hundred or so weirdos that get every little inside-joke and esoteric comic book reference the movie might include... which is always fun. But don't get me wrong, a difference in choice of venues aside, I had an awesome time seeing the matinee with Anskatian and his bro!

Since it is still opening weekend, I must resist giving too much away about the storyline. Now, I freely admit that I followed the progress of this flick quite closely. "Obsessive," might be a good word to describe how I'd check for updates several times a day. The only drawback to my dilligence was that I already had a taste of many of the action sequences... so there were points during the movie where I felt like I was watching it for the second, or third... or 34th time. I have only my fanboy monomania to blame. But, amazingly enough, the marketing geniuses over at 20th Century Fox restrained themselves enough to still let the movie provide more than a few incredible surprises! Would, "jaw-dropping," be a good qualifier to use? Yes, I think so. There were some absolutely jaw-dropping surprises, and some major departures from the comic book continuity. The trailers and teasers have shown what looks like a memorial service that the students of Xavier's attend. Online chat rooms and forums have debated who exactly the memorial is for, for months and months. The answer is mind-blowing.

The storyline touches upon what is considered amongst long-time X-Men fans as the greatest X-Story Ever Told - "The Dark Phoenix Saga". It centers on the soft-spoken and demure character Jean Grey who suddenly finds herself possessed by the "Phoenix Force," which enhances her powers to god-like levels, while bringing out more passionate and extreme displays of emotion. Well, the comic book version is fairly complicated, and I found myself a litte embarrassed when I was explaining it all at Croxley's to Anskatian and Skatty 3.0 over lunch. It's pretty much comic book geekdom of the highest order, even if I could probably write a 50 page thesis on it. Be that as it may, the movie took a fairly more plausible approach to who or what "The Phoenix" is. I've come to accept these cinematic deviations of these comic books as par for course. For the sake of a proper blockbuster movie, over 40 years of continuity need to be whittled down a bit. I thought the movie's take was excellent. It touched upon many of the most emotional aspects of The Dark Phoenix Saga without including intergalactic alien empires, cosmic fire birds and whatnot (if you seriously want to know the comic book story, I'll be happy to tell you the whole thing over a case of beer... it's a long story! And I like beer.)

Well, Halle Berry got her wish, and this time around she's one of the major players, getting plenty of face time and dialogue. And to the writers' credit, she's completely done away with awkward accents and at no time does she utter any more horrible battle banter. In recent interviews, she denies being serious about threatening to leave the series if she didn't get more time in the movie... which is pretty convenient to say, now, since she got her way. Frankly, I'd be happy to be in a ridiculously successful movie franchise and keep my mouth shut. To be honest, I still think Halle was miscast to be Storm. The comics always portrayed her with a regal bearing, and I could see someone like Angela Bassett, or the model, Iman, fulfilling that role much more naturally. But be that as it may, this time around, Storm kicks ass. She flies, she shoots lightning, she closelines Callisto. Storm finally gets into action the way she should have been since the beginning. I give director Bret Rattner mucho props for finally getting those action scenes right!

I always loved listening to hoity-toity movie critics discussing the "cultural subtext," of the X-Men movies. About how it speaks to "all individuals who feel like outcasts. Homosexuals, minorities, teenagers in general..." These guys would read into all this stuff and rave about the movies and then bestow great reviews. And while Newsday has given all three X-Movies at least 3 stars each time, I think they missed the basic point - the X-Men Trilogy is awesome because IT HAS MUTANTS FIGHTING IN IT! That's why they're so successful. I don't think a young Peruvian transexual is watching X-Men, identifying with Wolverine's desperate sense of alienation. Rather, it's the millions of guys, religiously watching these flicks, wanting to pop some adamantium claws with a satisfying SNIKT, and go berserker rage on some deserving local tough. But, I guess Peruvian trannies have there place in there, too. Maybe. But hey, if the critics love it too, than that's just another feather in the ol' Magneto helmet, right?

My only gripe about the X-Men Trilogy (God, I hate that - Why the heck are these movie people so obsessed with trilogies? If the movies are well-made, then they'll be successful. We can be brave and venture into a fourth movie... just don't make it lame! I guess they're all worried about pulling a Superman IV) Anyway, my gripe is this - once again, no love for Cyclops. He's the leader of the freakin' X-Men and he's barely a blip on the radar in the "Hugh and Halle Show." I mean, it's tough enough to be the straight-arrow leader and Mister Vanilla Mundane, with badasses like Wolverine strutting around wearing revealing undershirts, crazy hairdos, and raising a single eyebrow all sarcastically... but at least make him matter! In X2, he spends nearly the entire movie as Stryker's prisoner, and when he finally meets up Storm and the rest of the X-Men, nobody seems to have noticed he's been gone all this time. Not so much as a, "Scott! I'm glad you're okay!" I think Storm just says something like, "Where's Wolverine." I tell ya, forget Rodney Dangerfield. Cyclops gets no respect. None.

But in the end, this movie was absolutely fantastic. With the incredible confidence in the story, with a tremendous budget to match, this third celluloid installment of movie mutants takes on an sweeping epic atmosphere. The storyline barrels along to the emotional and action-packed climax that simply must be seen to be believed. I tell you, friends, this is $10 bucks well spent!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?"

Time to Play "Catch-Up"

2006-04-26T16:36:00.000-04:00

Well, the gauntlet has now been officially thrown, eh? Jimbo's back, blogging with a vengeance. After triumphantly returning to the land of blog on April 16th, he's put out a whopping 5 articles, complete with pictures, requisite sarcastic captions, and his trademark wry observations on life, in only 10 days! While the pace is nothing short of heroic, and I certainly hope our buddy, Jim doesn't wear himself out (or maybe I'm just ashamed of my own measely contributions to my own blog these last couple of months!) That said, Jimbo's back with some excellent material, and I'm always grateful for another opportunity to procrastinate!

This is called a "visual gag." If you don't get it, break out the dictionary, kids!

And if that weren't enough to shame me into blogging more frequently, Chris has recently updated his blog with some new features - links, pictures, and captions! He's been a consistent blogger these last many months... but now he's upgraded to a complete multi-media presentation. And on top of that, I've now been drawn into the ever-entertaining political banter of Mikey vs. Chris... my joking about being a "card-carrying member of the The Young Republican Mountain Ranch Boys (My codename is "Entitlement Lad - The Irate Conservative") has resulted in me being called out on a recent blog article by the Über-blogger himself, Mikey Esquire. "But, 'twas all in good fun!" (Hey, considering the career I'm trying to get into, I've got to stay on the good side of every lawyer I know!)

And just imagine... this is me before I got drunk!

So with all this going on, I figure that I oughta keep up with my pals in my own humble blog. Anti-Canadian Loser tirades aside, I've been pretty quiet lately... and while I can certainly explain why with one word, that begins with "N" and ends with, "eurology" - (which I think is Latin for "Mental Buttrape." I'm not lying when I say that there's been more than a few times I've thought about chucking it all and going to Zeke's Plumbing School. These have been, unequivocably, the four worst months of my life. I'm sure my future residency days will beat out this recent academic prison-rape, but for the time being, this is, without a doubt, my personal nadir. And to top things off, while I was bashing my brains in, trying to remember all this stuff, I had started Weight Watchers... which, to be perfectly honest, has been pretty successful so far, as I've shed a solid 15 pounds. My goal is to lose another 30 by August 5th... but we shall see.

Hanging out in the City of Brotherly Love... Well, the safe part, at least...

Several weeks ago, Ally, Jenna, Jay and I headed into Philadelphia to catch the Body Worlds exhibit. The Body Worlds exhibit, for the uninitiated, are a series of displays of preserved human bodies that demonstrate the various body parts and systems. While I've had the unmitigated joy of dissecting cadavers and huffing formaldehyde on a weekly basis, it was still fascinating to see all the bodies posed in various positions, exhibiting all the amazing nuances of the human body. Of course, outside of that, the four of us basically walked around Philadelphia, acting like goofy tourists and taking the expected ridiculous shots.

His Holiness, Pope Jason I meets His Inebriated, Wavy Gravy

Believe it or not, but one of our favorite stops was a hat shop on South Street. We seemed to keep finding ourselves in there, trying on hats, taking pictures, and essentially annoying the heck out of the store owners... of course, wacky pictures aside, we never thought of how many other people may or may not have tried on all those hats before us... Ewwww.

Yaargh!

Yes, of course I jumped up and down on the Rocky Steps.
Are you the least bit surprised?

South Street was a trip. It was sort of like Bourbon Street, meets Haight Ashbury. Every third business was either a lingerie shop, liquor store, or a ghetto fabulous jeweler. You may be wondering - "How does one distinguish a 'ghetto fabulous' jeweler from a usual jeweler?" Quite easy - if every piece of merchandise's every possible surface and facet is encrusted in ostentatious bling, if there are autographed photos of every conceivable hustla, busta, MC, or East Side Boy adorns the walls - you know you're visiting a ghetto fabulous jeweler.

It's posing for shots like this that draw stares from Chinese tourists. Doesn't the black-and-white effect make it look all artsy?

What woman hasn't wanted to crush her fiancee under a gigantic novelty domino at some time or another?

"Whiz Wit!" All Philly Cheesesteak Purists should be happy - I insisted on making everyone wait on the three-block-long line at Pat's for the distinctive Philadelphia delicacy.

Rob Zombie was awesome live...

...but that'll have to wait until next time!

Feedback Question of the Day
"Finish this scenario: You take Jesus to Hooters, and..."

Asinine Awards, Part 1

2006-04-12T18:04:00.000-04:00

The glory... the power... the ill-fitting striped shirt...

For those of you who've never heard of Ghyslain Raza, "The Star Wars Kid," then... welcome back to society, I hope the rock you've been under for the last three years was comfy! The SWK, as the ever-lethargic internet community immediately abbreviated him, became an overnight internet phenomenon about three years ago, when his martial arts prowess was exposed on a neglected video in his high school AV room. At this point, I should probably stop typing and give you a link, if you've never seen this goofball... because words cannot do the trainwreck justice. Check out the original video, and some of the modified versions: SWK

You just been SERVED!

Ah yes, a goofy, chubby, bespectacled doof taped himself playing "Darth Maul" from Star Wars, and then forgot to get rid of the video. Well, a couple of his fellow highschoolers inadvertantly discovered the abandoned tape - and predictably shared their excrutiating, shame-inducing, gold with the international internet community. Before long, creative artists would modify the original footage with special effects, graphics, and clever editing. Everybody was laughing... except for Ghyslain.

SWK becomes yet another of Seth McFarlane's pop-cultural references that no one will understand in 5 years.

No, the shumbling troll didn't exactly take the whole experience with a grain of salt. It wouldn't take a genius to extrapolate that Ghys wasn't exactly sitting at the "cool table" in the school's cafeteria before the SWK incident... and afterwards he was apparently so ridiculed he had no other recourse than leave school and enter a psychiatric hospital. But if you're expecting me to don sackcloth and weep lamentations for poor chubby Ghyslain, you'd be wrong. While embarrassing to be exposed at playing a Sith Lord in an empty AV stage, manically swinging sticks around, making crude sound effects, and clumsily executing karate kicks, this entire incident is at least partly his fault as well. I have little sympathy for gibbering infants who can't deal with consequences of their foolishness. Pathetic Ghyslain's wounded self-esteem would evolve into something of an eye-roll-inducing internet cause célèbre, with coddling sympathizers even urging others to help them raise money to buy him an ipod for his woes. Ghyslain is probably quite comfortable in his lifestyle of victimhood - even his name is derived from the Germanic word gisel meaning "hostage." Why should he have to deal with the problem he created?

And here I thought that Vincent Pastore was supposed to be "Big Pussy"

My first obstacle towards more sympathy is the inarguable fact that he taped himself doing it. It never ceases to amaze me when people get so righteously indignant when their potentially embarrassing home-made videos get leaked to the internet. If someone had set up a hidden camera and taped him, it would be a completely different story. But he taped himself. He had this brilliant idea, which probably popped in his head after a fruitful afternoon of sitting and eating, of taking the high school's golf ball retriever (that stick thingy), go into the school's AV room by himself, and show off his light saber skills to a video camera. Why would anyone think to do this? I don't know. But it's fairly obvious to anyone watching that Ghys appears to be a couple of muppets short of a Jedi Council, if you know what I mean. Which is probably also the reason why he didn't have the cerebral capacity to remember to erase the videotape or take it home with him and hide it away in a deep, dark place forever and ever. It seems that in addition to the mean bully conspiracy theory, SWK is somewhat, if not mostly, to blame for his predicament.

Ninja, Please!

Between the ages of 11 and 14, my mission in life was to become a ninja. No, seriously. Way before it sort of became a Chuck-Norris-esque- internet-hipster-ironic-retro-thing. To be more specific, I actually wanted to be a Ninja Turtle. Unfortunately, radioactive mutagen is somewhat hard to obtain when you're in the 6th grade, pet turtles aren't sold anymore because they can breed salmonella, and you have to have your Mom sign for katana swords when they're delivered by UPS. (Funny story, actually - that really happened. Mom wasn't too thrilled with the idea of me swinging around large bladed objects, and made me send it back, along with the throwing stars and grappling hook I ordered). I took out books on Ninjitsu from the library, I even fashioned Ninja masks from my t-shirts (ask me and I'll show you). I felt no need to actually take martial arts lessons... I had already sat through all three Ninja Turtles movies, and I memorized all the cool phrases to yell when you're punching and kicking hordes of anonymous, clumsy bad guys.

"When the evil Shredder attacks, these Turtle Boys don't cut him no slack!"

I identify with SWK to the point that I have zero sympathy for him. I, too, hung out during my early teens in my backyard, fashioning wooden ninja weapons, having practice ninja battles with my two similarly socially-misfit friends, collecting smokebombs and planning nighttime patrols to fight crime (I wish I was kidding). I was so painfully geeky, I can't help but laugh at how earnestly I loved it all. While writing this article, I figured I'd dig through my family photo albums and find some atrociously awful picture of me posing with my bo staff in my jams and neon green t-shirt, or something, and put it up on the blog. But no, I found no such pictures. Apprently, amidst my carefree days of whacking myself in the family jewels with my nunchuks and preparing to be a superhero vigilante - I had the common sense to NEVER RECORD ANY OF IT! That might be a good bit of advice for all you people out there that want to videotape yourself doing something you don't want other people to see. If you videotape or record it in any way, you are intrinsically acknowledging that it may be seen by others. Tommy Lee, Pam Anderson, Paris Hilton, Fred Durst, Chyna, X-Pac, Rob Lowe, Brett Michaels, Pam Anderson (again), Tom Sizemore... you all should have known better.

Those are the whitest sneakers I've ever seen not on an 80-year-old person...

So, as you can see above, hands down, I beat Ghyslain for biggest geek in the universe. I was old-school dork, back before school administrators were more obsessed with self-esteem and bully-prevention, than... you know, education. Mercilessly harangued by the knuckle-dragging upper-crust of middle school, I had to grow up fast. So maybe this is why I have nothing with disdain for Ghyslain Raza - SWK, because his parents went and sued the kids who originally put the video onto the internet, for mental cruelty and other assorted new-wave, hippy bullshit.

Without a doubt, the worst picture of me... ever. Sorry I put this in, bro.

It is my fervent belief that the moment our legal system began doling out cash rewards for "pain and suffering," the very fabric of human society began to unravel. This abysmal legal precedent has encouraged the utterly absurd notion that we are all somehow entitled to a life without suffering, pain, injury, or danger. When did this happen? Since the dawn of human civilization, back in the fertile crescent between the Tigris and Euphrates, people have, on occasion, tripped over their feet and scraped their knee. It didn't matter if they were in front of Mabooboo's thatched hut, they just said, "Oh boy, I skinned my knee... I guess I should be more careful." Only in the last thirty years or so, do people feel entitled to extort money from others because something bad happened to them, and our legal framework has somehow justified it. Now if you skin your knee in front of Mabooboo's hut, you can sue him for medical costs and damages for gross negligence because he didn't have to forethought to provide clearly marked signs warning pedestrians of slight bumps in the dirt. I don't object to someone being reimbursed for some finite, known amount. If someone drives their car into you, destroys your car and puts you in the hospital, that person is without a doubt responsible to replace your car and pay your hospital bills. But that's it. Bad things happen to people, and the world is a big, mean place. So in the words of Dennis Miller - "Wear a cup!" Because you never know what might happen.

Thus, the fact that the Razas sued the two kids who put the video on the internet, and lamentably won around 300,000 dollars (Canadian), is atrocious. On behalf of the millions of nerds in the world, who've grown up amidst the taunts and scorn of our Neanderthal contemporaries, and somehow grew above it, you are hereby stripped of any status or depiction of "nerd," "geek," or "dork," and are permanently relegated now and forever as "helpless loser for life." Congratulations to the newly wealthy Mr. and Mrs. Raza for raising a gigantic infant who will never be able to cope with the real world. My snidest regards for the coddling hippies that raised money to buy that idiot an ipod. And nothing but my deepest and most utter disgust for Canada's own Ghyslain Raza - you guys can keep him. Also, no more Star Wars for you. We're taking that back, too. Jackass.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Comments, Criticisms, Compliments?"

Bring it On

2006-04-05T14:29:00.000-04:00

"Do it! Do it Now!"

I was shocked when I realized the date on my last blog entry was back in the middle of March... almost a whole month ago! And while blogging is certainly not as high a priority as say, passing my classes... I figure I should still update this thing once in a while, if only because it infuriates me when others don't.

Well, in about a week, I'll be taking my third... and hopefully, final Neuro test. This has been a brutal couple of months, and I'll be glad to move on from Neurology. After the Spring Break, I'll have 5 weeks of muscles and skeletons... and then what is shaping up to be - The Greatest Summer of My Life!

Of course, during the Spring Break, I look forward to updating the hell out of both this blog and Wedded Blitz. As neglected as this blog may be, my wedding blog has been ignored for quite a while! So look forward to a plethora of updates starting April 14th.

There's a lot of fun things that have happened in the meantime... things that I simply have not had the time to properly blog about... things like the Rob Zombie concert, and the Philadelphia weekend.

So hang tight... all you four people out there that actually read this thing... you'll be seeing some new junk REAL soon!

Saint Pats 2006, in Pictures

2006-03-18T22:46:00.000-05:00

Top o' the Mornin' to ya!

In the bleary-eyed aftermath of another triumphant St. Patrick's Day celebration, I thought I'd share some of my photographic plunder from our raucous afternoon and boozin' and boogyin' in the greatest city in the world! And this time, I'll keep my voluminous verbosity to an absolute minimum! "Nuff Said!"

This sad shot is the of almighty McHale's sign... attached to a boarded-up shopfront, waiting for renovation... it shall glow and beckon hungry revelers never again...

Ever since our buddy, Chris, joined the Suffolk County Police Department, we've all adopted their official St. Patrick's Day celebration as our own. So for the fifth year running, we've accompanied Chris, his co-workers, and the mysterious St. Patrick's Groupies at the Salloon, a bar on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

I know for a fact that "Everyone Loves THAT Irish Girl"... especially me!

Chris, Johnny Z, Ally, Kat, and I rendezvoused at the bar at 2:30 for a 3-hour open bar free-for-all: kilts and beer cans were flying everywhere! Outside of a fraternity mixer, you've never seen people drink with such a purpose! And I was no exception, downing around 8 beers in the next two hours. That may not seem like a lot, but when you realize the bar's maximum occupancy was probably violated by at least 200 extra revelers, fighting your way to one of the beer stations was a harrowing quest in and of itself. So accomplishing 8 rounds was nothing short of heroic for our brave little band!

Ally and Kat, showin' Manhattan how they do it back in Douglaston! DMG Represent!

St. Patrick's Day has its own strange participants that you don't usually see the other 364 days of the year. Gangs of guys with big furry hats and kilts can walk into any bar or eating establishment with no invitation, and start playing their bagpipes. And not only are they allowed to do this all over the city, but they're applauded! And somehow, even when there's not enough reason to breathe in some of these joints, entire squadrons of these guys can still somehow squeeze in and put on an impromptu performance. I'd love to see these guys try that same stunt in three months... not bloody likely!

This St. Patrick's Day was brought to you by BEER... and Lots of It! I think this is the first time I've ever seen Ally double-fisting beers before. It was awesome. I would've asked her to marry me, if I hadn't done so already!

Another specialized subspecies of St. Patrick's Day are the mysterious St. Patrick's groupies. Pale white, fair-haired, and freckled... decked out in bright green get-ups with ridiculous slogans printed across their fronts, and obnoxious Guinness pants - these Celtic gals are out in force to get their groove-on. They prey mainly on NY's finest uniformed studs - the firefighters and police officers. Some of these middle-aged minxes go after these guys with such unbridled enthusiasm, you'd think it was White People Mating Season, or something. The rest of the year, these Gaelic Gals spend their time in Irish bars, shopping at Target, and working at Pizza Hut.

Awww! I have no clever caption here... this is just a great shot of Maggie and Chris.

Later on, we were joined by Mikey G, Johnny G and his girlfriend, Hale, and Johnny Z's fiancee Vicky. We headed over to another bar in the area, called "Genesis." It was a somewhat calmer affair, though still packed and was once again visited by one of the numerous pipe bands cruising the St. Patrick's circuit that evening. By this time, I was quite in the bag... having recently quaffed a sumptuous ice-cold pint of Guinness bought for me by Chris. There had been an unforeseen mixup with my open-bar armband at the Salloon, and he felt guilty. I didn't blame him... but I wasn't going to turn down a Guinness. No way. Well, I had to see a man about a horse and made my way through the drunken throng to the nearest lavatory. I saw a door that appeared to say, "Laddies," and since this was an Irish place (wasn't every bar an "Irish place" on St. Patrick's Day?) I assumed this meant it was the men's room. But as I staggered in, I found myself looking at a woman washing her hands at the sink. "I guess the ladies room is crowded, so she came in here," I thought. I set about to do my business in the nearest stall, when, through my drunken haze, I realized that there were no urinals in the men's room. It was then, that I realized that I wasn't in the "Laddies' Room," I was in the "Ladies' Room." Of course, I figured, I was already in here, so I should finish what I started.

Simple St. Patrick's Day Math: The beer keeps flowin' and the cheeks start glowin'

Soon after my exciting trip to the little girls' room, our party agreed that we were all starving, and Johnny Z soon led us to nearby Totonno's Pizzeria. Four delicious brick oven pies and three orders of garlic knots later, and we were happily sated. Overcome with exhaustion (read: intoxication) Ally, Kat, Maggie, and I decided to call it a day and head back to Penn Station. After a quick stop in a Duane Reade for some marshmallow peeps, we jumped in a cab and were on our way. The drive back was slow, with the streets saturated with party buses and throngs of revelers, so Kat made small talk with our driver, "Amlal Mohammed" (not making this up) and kept on offering him one of her peeps. Amlal never took her up on her offer, to his loss, of course. Afterwards in Penn, we luckily avoided any belligerent drunks or obnoxious party people... and I'm happy to report that there was no praying to the porcelain goddess that evening, either. All-in-all, it was one of the best St. Patrick's I've enjoyed in quite a while!

Another awesome St. Patrick's Day at the Salloon! "Cheers!" from Ally, Johnny Z, Maggie, Chris, Kat, and the ever-present Coors Lite Can!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"How was your St. Paddy's? Good? Bad? Ridiculous?"

If There Was Ever a Time I Needed a Beer...

2006-03-14T20:22:00.000-05:00

Guinness... you... complete... me.

Ah, 'tis a fine week indeed, as it culminates with St. Patrick's Day. March 17th, that strange day when all the world wants to be Irish. It's a strange phenomenon, that's not exactly shared with other pale ethnic groups. You don't see an aisle at Party City dedicated to the Portuguese (with all due respect to my Iberian brothers out there... but you know it's true. Portugal is sorta Spain's Canada.) I can say authoritatively that this is one odd day of the year when the majority of American popular culture wants to be Irish, instead of what it usually wants to be, which is Black. I'm just calling them as I see 'em, folks. But before you complain to your congressperson, let me elaborate by saying that the Irish appeal is in it's surprisingly enduring outsider mystique. For the average American suburban kid, it's more exciting to dress and act like Dr. Dre than Dr. Phil. But... I'd rather not get into this... the topic is already boring me. Suffice to say, being Irish is cool... even if you're just a wannabe... and the trend shows no sign of ceasing.

Wearin' the Green: Old Navy shirts notwithstanding, this was actually St. Patrick's Day 2005

This has been a particularly rough couple of weeks for me. Between struggling with my Neurology Unit at school, I've been on Weight Watchers. So I'm stressed out and I can't drown my sorrows in a few dozen extra value meals. And to top things off, the cd player in the Foxy Lady finally died. I was getting into Rob Zombie mode the other day (I get to go see him with John on March 28th! Woo-hoo!) and my car stereo starts giving me the "Error" message. I just can't catch a break. Of course, anyone who's ridden with me in the last couple of years knows that my car speakers desperately need to be put out of their misery. (The bass is all blown out... probably too many roadtrips with Rammstein on heavy rotation!) So one of my projects for my extremely anticipated Spring Break - April 13th-23rd - is a trip to a nearby Circuit City or Best Buy (Al, can you make this happen?) to have the ol' gal fitted a new system. Of course, there have been some good things to report. Despite maligning the WW, I've actually shed 10 pounds in the last month! So at least I'm on pace to get down to fighting trim in time to not be big for The Big Day.

7 Guys from Boston I Actually Don't Want to Dropkick!

Another reason this month hasn't been a total loss so far, is my getting to see my fourth favorite music act in the whole world on March 1st - The Dropkick Murphys! Brian, John, Ally, and I headed over to the Nokia theater in NYC to catch their always-rambunctious show on Ash Wednesday. We even ran into Z and Michelle Falco's fiancee, Tom (who somehow ended up backstage... even he couldn't explain how). Though the Murphys are unabashed Boston-boys, they treated us New Yorkers right and put on an awesome show. Even Ally, who admittedly never took to listening to them on my dearly-departed car stereo, had a great time. John is turning into my new concert buddy, which is great. And in less than two weeks we'll be back at the Nokia to see the almighty Rob Zombie (who happens to be my third favorite music act in the whole world) kick off his new tour in support of his new album, "Educated Horses." But speaking of Ash Wednesday... I have some bad news...

McHale's: En Pace Requiem. I will never forget you... and I'm still digesting that last burger...

McHale's is no more. It has not moved. It certainly didn't go out of business. And for a while, I was convinced it was all my fault. When the bunch of us were planning to meet in the city before the Dropkick Murphys concert, I thought of arguably the best rendezvous on Manhattan Island - McHale's. McHale's, for the unlucky uninitiated, is the best burger joint and dive bar in New York... if not the world. Well, to be honest, I can't substantiate the claim about the dive bar superiority status, but I can authoritatively state, as a young man who's consumed more than his fair share of well-done ground beef along with several tons of Heinz ketchup and steak fries, that I have never had a better burger than at McHale's. McHale's has been for over fifty years a Broadway landmark - where well-to-do patrons and common theater ushers converge for an $8 feast... a symphony of grilled beef and fried potatoes. Where else in that cosmopolitan mecca could a man enjoy a sumptous meal that would keep him satisfied for at least 24 hours on less than ten bucks? Since my introduction to that incredible eatery back in the winter of '97, when I was ushering at the Music Box Theater while Natalie Portman was evading Nazi soldiers in the" Diary of Anne Frank," I've eagerly shared the gastronomical gospel to as many friends as would listen... and more than a few of my chums have waddled out of there since then. However, on March 1st, I made the unfortunate choice to suggest McHale's on Ash Wednesday. To us Catholics, Ash Wednesday is meatless. And you can sure-as-hell assume I wasn't going to order spaghetti there. Well, when John called me that day to say that McHale's was boarded-up I thought for sure that God had smote the bar for my effrontery. It was only later, upon some internet research, that I found out that the building's owner decided to sell the building to condo developers. Somehow, though, I liked the "God Smiting" theory better. It was just more dramatic and meaningful. Having a wonderful joint like McHale's wiped away for nothing more than greed... is just sad, y'know? To quote a food critic in describing the dining experience there -

"To Eat at McHale's is to See Richard Simmons Die."

Yeah BoYEEE! It's obvious to me why 20 women would gouge, claw, and devour each other alive for the affections of this guy.

Why did I stay up late, the night before my Neurology Exam, to watch the 90 minute season finale of VH1's "Flavor of Love"? Even my sister, Mary, asked that, incredulously. Truth be told, I don't really know. I'm a well-documented hater of all things reality - TV or otherwise. And when Ally wrests the controller from me, and we end up watching "Real Road Rule World Room Raiders Who Date My Mom"... I just end up yelling at the TV and making derisive comments. It must be tremendously annoying listening to me gripe about the characters on these shows. What bothers me the most is the utter lack of sincerity demonstrated. The romance reality shows are competitions... which guy or girl can successfully seduce whomever the most. The Real World-type shows are filled with air-head bimbo 20-somethings (and some shameful 30-somethings) wallowing in a grossly bloated arrested adolescence. The Real World's title become somewhat misleading when they began only casting people with less than 5% body fat, and comparable IQs to match. The bottom line was, though, that all these people wanted to do was get on TV and jumpstart their inevitably bleak career in show business. Which brings us to VH1's "Flavor of Love."

Ice Queen Cometh: Finalist Tiffany "New York" Patterson

Following the continuing adventures of Flavor Flav, the "Hype Man" (you know, the "big clock" guy?) of reknowned rap group, "Public Enemy," from his pop culture quasi-resurrection on "Surreal Life," to his odd couple relationship with Bridgitte Nielsen in "Strange Love," the newly single Flav has his pick of 20 ladies who live together in his wacky mansion and compete for his affections. Like all of these new reality shows, just about every one of these women were actresses or looking to break into show business. Don't believe me? Check this list out: Flavor of Love Girls And yes, all the girls were given wacky nicknames, like "Pumkin," "Hottie," and "Red Oyster." The few that appeared genuinely interested in Flavor Flav were downright scary. And the worst of them all was "New York." Just so you don't have any misconceptions, I am absolutely convinced that the above photo was doctored in some way. This chica was either scowling or haughtily dismissing the other contestants every time she was on camera. The only time she wasn't acting like a hateful shrew was when she was talking to Flavor Flav. Upon checking around the internet, I found a couple of things out. 1. New York had her share of fans, despite the atrocious way she conducted herself, spoke of others, and her enormously overinflated ego. 2. There is a rumor that the producers of the show hired her specifically to behave the way she did and shake things up. This was actually something I suspected, myself. She seemed to go out of her way to take shots at the other girls, and she was fixated on Flavor Flav to such a overly-dramatic, quasi-spooky way that it almost appeared that she was merely playing a role. She belittled one particant to such a significant degree that the girl actually spat in her face after being eliminated. Check it out, here: Punkin Hocks a Loogie. Finally, check out her myspace page. For some reason, I'm not convinced it's really her at all, but someone posing as her, using widely available promotional pictures on it. New York's MySpace. You be the judge.

Nikki "Hoopz" Alexander, also known as, "The Not-Satanic Finalist"

And then we have "Hoopz," who compared to New York's behavior, was practically Mother Theresa. She exuded a sporty, girl-next-door tomboy-ish quality that contrasted sharply to New York's Alpha-Female Prom Queen from Hell demeanor. Funny thing is, Hoopz isn't quite a choirgirl, either. Apparently she's Maxim Magazine-type and calendar model who has a website set up (which apparently is not as R-rated as it used to be) "My Darling Nikki" can be seen here, but it's certainly racier fare than I usually link to, so be forewarned. Of course, this all continues to prove that these "reality" shows attract and feature only a certain type of person - shameless attractive and semi-attractive people that want to break into showbiz. The finale of Flavor of Love was pretty silly, as it tried to fake you out by editing it so it made New York look like the good one, for once, and casting Hoopz in a negative light. Somehow, they even had both finalists end up wearing identical dresses! A little too coincidental, I think. Finally, while the two girls were waiting for Flav to show up, New York commences to try to psyche Hoopz out, revealing how she's already slept with him, that they "made music together," that this final contest "was a battle between good and evil." In my opinion, if New York was genuinely as obsessed about Flavor Flav (which she never exactly explained in the first place, too) she would have reacted a bit more outrageously when he ultimately picked Hoopz instead of her. She sorta cried in the departing limo interview... but it wasn't exactly convincing.

In the end, if you've actually read through all of this, you're probably wondering why I'd devote so much time to such an absurd show. And now that I've written this all out... I happen to agree. Sheesh, I'm losing it.

Have a Happy St. Pats!

You Were the Man Then, DAWG.

2006-03-03T18:05:00.000-05:00

Simpler Days: With Dawgs Hat proudly on head, Tom rejoices on the last day of Chaminade in '97, with Pimp Daddy Craine, Not Impressed Grant, Bishop, Gordo, Wayniac and Lyncho.

To truly appreciate the saga of the Dawgs Hat, you have to mentally transport yourself to the teenage atmosphere of Long Island in the late '90's. Back then, before creatively-bereft fashion designers were raiding the back closets of the 1970's, when popular fashion was slowly emerging from the grunge movement, and a million niche styles exploded onto the scene. That crazy time when the "skater" look was only worn by... well, skaters. And for the rest of us mere mortals, we employed a sort of weird amalgam style of Tommy Hilfiger, Gap, and Pacific Sunwear. Yes, that was also before everyone started abbreviating things and we actually had the endurance to say, "Pacific Sunwear," as opposed to "PacSun." We were hardy, like that. As for what girls wore back then... I'm not exactly sure, as I didn't know any. But I'm 75% positive that they didn't wear Ugg boots.

Wayne, the Dawgs Hat, and I chilling out in '98 after the Infamous Mount Washington Hike, along with the single can of beer that Wayne smuggled in and that we both got drunk on.

So what was the significance of the Dawgs Hat? Well, have you transported yourself back to the couture wasteland of the late '90's, yet? Back then, throughout the eastern seaboard of the US, if not the entire country, the must-have cabeza accessory for guys was the "college bar hat," for want of a better term. Popularized by the New English white guy lacrosse chic, these caps usually had either the name of a college or the mascot emblazoned across the front, framed on the top and bottom with two lines, or "bars". These things were pervasive throughout the period. Unless you were in a coma in the late '90's, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. Chances are, you probably owned two or three of 'em.

The Dawgs Hat: Good for wearing, not for eating.

Well, my brother Mike was certainly more fashion conscious than I back then, as well as the more consummate athlete, so he cycled through those bar hats faster than his pairs of expensive, trendy sneakers. (The same sneakers have since enjoyed a lengthy second life with my dad... who is now the coolest sexuagenarian in cardiac rehab, wearing his adopted red Air Jordan kicks.) Around this time, I decided to finally jump on the hat bandwagon, and wheeled my bike up to the local Modell's store and bought what I thought was the coolest hat I could find: South Carolina Fighting Gamecocks. It was a bright new white cap with "COCKS" printed across the front in bold letters, with "University of South Carolina" printed in smaller letters on the bottom, just to clear up any potentially embarrassing misconceptions about what I was interested in.

The Dawgs Hat finds a small improvement in the dust and filth of Woodstock '99 - a red Metallica ninja star sticker that fit perfectly on its bill. Check out Matt's "X-Men"bar hat!

Well, my brilliant purchase had a major achilles heel. Usually when teenagers buy shocking apparel to demonstrate their commercially-purchased individuality, they usually have the balls to actually wear it. Not me. Whenever I had the nerve to take it out of my house, it spent more time hastily stuffed in my pocket than on my noggin'. When I refereed 3C Week games at Chaminade, I had absolutely no intention of wearing my bright white "COCKS" hat in front of the brothers. Most likely, that hat would remain an embarrassing artifact of my hopelessly non-cool teenage lifestyle, but fate would ultimately intervene. Somehow, my brother lost or wore out his recent bar cap and needed another one in time for his sleep-away lacrosse camp. I lent him my ridiculous hat, happy to see it go. And as luck would have it, I never saw that stupid hat ever again.

Few could pull off the Hawaiian shirt and black Dawgs Hat combo and still look cool. This is yet another example.

My brother returned from camp, with no COCKS hat. He had forgotten it on the plane. I feigned outrage, mainly because he was my brother, and it was my job. But it did the trick, and he figured he'd give me his new cap as repayment - a black Georgia Lacrosse Bulldogs bar cap... "The Dawgs Hat" had arrived.

Why are we as a species compelled to put big hats on small heads? I don't know, but it's damn cute. Here you can see grizzled masking tape I had on the back of the Dawgs Hat.

What made the Dawgs Hat awesome was its semi-uniqueness. Most bar caps of the era were white. Plus, Georgia University Lacrosse was not a typical pick for Long Island kids. Usually you had the mooks with their UMASS hats, sometimes with the "M" covered up or scratched off, thus making character judgements on all who read its altered message. That clever device sorta wore thin after the fifth one I saw at the mall. And finally, my new hat said "DAWGS" on it... which is just cool. The misspelling coolness factor is diametrically opposed to the misspelling "DOGGS." That would just have been lame. From that point on, from my senior year of high school, the Dawgs Hat became my constant companion; accompanying me to Senior Night, last day festivities, graduation parties, softball games, roadtrips, beach days, and hikes. Strangely, the only place I didn't bring it to, was Ireland. But it was waiting for me when I got back...

As awesome as I looked in the Dawgs Hat, Ally just looked better. She looks better than me in all my stuff. Strangely, I don't look good in her stuff.

In the summer of '99, the Dawgs Hat and I were happily reunited, just in time for the 3-day dirty, dusty disaster of Woodstock '99. There I found a red Metallica ninja star car decal. It was just big enough to fit on the bill, and that hat somehow became even cooler. The sticker stayed there, faithfully, for a couple of months, and then sort of withered off. That autumn, Ally and I went on our first weekend trip as a couple - whitewater rafting in Kittatinny. After various trips, service projects, school retreats, beach runs, and a particularly interesting day with Habitat for Humanity, my beloved Dawgs Hat was lost. I had forgotten it on the charter bus that took us to our senior college retreat. Despite frantic phonecalls to the bus company, and their lies-upon-lies, promising me they'd check the bus as soon as it arrived at the depot, the Dawgs Hat was never seen again.

Probably the coolest picture of me, ever.

Years have passed, and I've tried to fill the void left by the Dawgs Hat with other, lesser caps. My factory-error St. John's "Gopher" hat, while a semi-interesting conversation starter, never attained the same legendary status of its predecessor. And my pre-faded Yankees cap, while inherently awesome, obviously lacks the Dawgs Hat originality... since the Yankees probably are the most widely-produced ball caps in the world. Lately, in my moments of leisure, limited though they may be, I've trolled around a little bit on Ebay and the internet, searching in vain for a black "dawgs" hat... to no avail. While replicas of the white dawgs hat is still produced and sold, the same cannot be said of the black model. And while I fervently hope for someone to post the legendary headwear on ebay, and I faithfully check for it on a daily basis, I believe that if any such hat still exists, it's probably in some bargain bin in some long-neglected corner of a sporting goods store. So I implore you all:

If you ever find a black "DAWGS Georgia Lacrosse" bar hat, identical to the one in these pictures, please buy it for me, and I will happily reimburse you!

Remember: Ally's unadorned head needs your support! Much like the rest of her body needs the support of Geraldine and me.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Have you ever lost a prized possession? Did you ever find it again?"

Smackdown!

2006-02-24T14:08:00.000-05:00

Whatcha Gonna Do, Neurology? Whatcha Gonna Do...When These 24-Inch Pythons and Tom's Non-Stop Studying... RUN WILD ON YOU!

With renewed vigor, I once again took the dreaded Neuro 1 test, and 105 minutes later, I strode out... vindicated. It was a rough time, digging deep, and making my final decision to succeed at Medical School. Even though it was scary, I'm grateful I had the wakeup call. Now, with three tests left this year, I'll have my work cut out for me at NYCOM.

Thanks for all the words of support, guys.

Whatcha Gonna Do, Brother?

A Failure I Needed to Suffer

2006-02-17T11:12:00.000-05:00

Good thing it wasn't my best...

Worrying about your academic status over a course of days starts to make you rethink your priorities. And worrying has been my tradition since November. I would walk out of a test I didn't feel secure about, start cursing my procrastinations and half-assitude. I would tell myself, "If I just pass this test, things are going to change. I can't keep doing this to myself." But what would happen? I would pass. And nothing would change. I'd go on school break, then return after vacation and sort of sleep walk through the first week or so... always planning to "start cracking down this weekend," or "Okay, Monday I get serious..." And then what would eventually happen would be I would rush through studying in the last two weeks before the exam... and fervently hope I get a passing grade. Pass/Fail sure is a seductive policy... especially for someone who has a bad tendency to procrastinate.

I've gone through these sorts of gut-checks before. I failed bad at Columbia. I wasn't in a proper mental outlook to start competing with highly-motivated ivy league science students. Of course, this was after 23 years of really never having to work too hard to get the grades I wanted. And while I was lucky to be good at school, it was also a weakness... because if you've spent your entire life casually getting what you wanted, actual hard effort is difficult to summon when you need it. This is probably why I never took my art to the next level, because I lacked the fire to do it.

So when I was reeling from my disappointments at Columbia, I surprised myself and tried again, and succeeded. True, I needed a friendlier setting - St. John's... but I did it. I re-took my General Chemistry's over the summer, and completed two courses each in Biology and Organic Chemistry. I then sat for the MCAT and earned a respectable (if not terribly competitive) score of 25. It was enough to get into NYCOM, and here I am. It was satisfying because I knew I had to summon more grit to get it done than I had ever done so before. I approached my studies at NYCOM with likewise zeal, and took the first exam... and passed easily. This, I fear was the beginning of my relapse into lassitude.

I can recall with crystal clarity riding up the escalator at the Source Mall. It was around 11AM on a Wednesday, and I had just completed my first medical school test with little difficulty. I thought to myself, "Hey, that wasn't so bad. What was I so worried about?" And already, subconsciously, I was planning time and effort-cutting study strategies for the next system exam. That next exam, as well as the one after that (right before Christmas) did not leave me with such a satisfied feeling. I passed them both, barely. But I never learned my lesson.

Until now.

I had to stumble because I needed to be reminded that this is not an endeavor that can be completed casually. This education not only will allow me to pass school tests, it will aid me in my ability to treat patients. If I don't learn now... when will I learn? After I, God forbid, hurt someone? Or worse?

So now, I have a chance to redeem myself, this Wednesday is the retest, and I am determined to pass. Afterwards, I'll need to catch up with my classmates in studying for the next exam, falling on the Monday before St. Patrick's Day. And on St. Patrick's Day, I will be able to hoist a drink with satisfaction... because I know I did my very best...

...and kicked Neurological Ass.

So, if you don't hear from me for a while, you'll know why. And in March, the first round's on me.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Have you ever rebounded from a failure, more determined than ever?

"Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves up again."

(Yeah, I know... kinda cheesy, but it certainly applies.)

Just Stewin' in My Own Juices...

2006-02-15T15:51:00.000-05:00

(Artists's depiction of my brain on Monday)

Well, I've certainly screwed up worst tests than that one before. And I'm still alive to tell about them. Oh, don't mind me, I'm just trying to render myself into a more passive emotional state, regarding the FUBAR Neuro test I just took on Monday.

What to say, really? I studied hard... all the wrong stuff. I gave it the ol' college try, but then remembered that I wasn't in college anymore. Blech. But here's the really annoying part:

I don't know if I passed or not. 48 hours have come and gone since I staggered out of the that testing area, and I have no idea what to do next. Here's a little backstory, to flesh out my predicament...

My neurology system curriculum is broken into three separate exams, given roughly one month apart. In my previous systems (blood and skin), I've only had one exam each. Neuro is a big system, obviously. Previously, if a student failed the system exam, he or she was given the opportunity to take the retest, usually a week later. If, in the event that the student failed the retest, they then had a final chance to retake the test during the summer, after a brief review period. But that can only happen once. Otherwise you would be "academically dismissed."

Unfortunately, since Neuro is broken into three portions, if a student fails an exam and then fails the retest, there would not be enough time during the summer for a review. Sort of a "2 Strikes - You're Out" policy. This is a scary thing.

Thus, I'm quite acutely interested in whether or not I have to take a retest in a week. Because it'll be my last chance. And since we're off Monday, I assume the test would be Tuesday... and time is ticking. I don't know whether to continue studying the new stuff (which'll be tested on March 12th) or start reviewing the old stuff. Plus, I'm kinda banking on having the retest on Tuesday, because I want to start studying the new stuff. Every day that it is potentially prolonged, is one less day to study the new stuff.

This sucks. It really, really does.

But of course, if I passed, then I have nothing to worry about. The bottom line is, I just want to know. I'll keep you guys posted...

Tom's crystal ball is a little cloudy...

Anyway... what's up with the rest of the world? Vice President Cheney shot a guy. That's great. And to touch upon the ever-entertaining political jousting between Mikey and Chris, I agree with both of you somewhat. Yes, this is an embarrassing scenario for the Republicans, and no doubt, they're going to get ridiculed for it, just as Democrats took flak over Monica Lewinski. But there really isn't much of a political intrigue here... the Vice President was out with friends and had an accident. It isn't like he was hunting humans for sport. (Although if the comments I've read on the internet are any indication, there are a whole lot of people that think that, anyway!) I'm sure gun-control people, and animal-rights people will probably grind their axes a little more over this one, but that's about all. Rich white guy accidentally shoots other rich white guy doesn't give much partisan heft, y'know? Maybe if they caught the Vice President clubbing illegal Mexican day laborers from the back of a moving pickup truck... that would be a whole lot juicier. But Dick Cheney stopped doing that months ago... everyone knows that...

A little closer to home... 52 days and counting (at this writing) since a certain NFO's last post. Since I haven't heard from the guy since New Year's... I can only assume that he's quite busy with some heavy-undercover black ops stuff. That... or he's really not that into blogging anymore. One or the other, I'm sure.

In the spirit of equality, though, my good buddy, Louie, has quite clearly left his mark 108 days ago... and most likely for good. But the cool thing about his last blog entry is, that it really is rather timeless. Especially if you're reading it at 4AM. No matter what day it is... or what mood you're in... his last post will apply to you. And most definitely at 4AM. Like the Beatles, Superman, and Great Pyramid of Giza... it will stand the test of time...

Crabby and sarcastic is no way to blog... so I'll sign off, now. Take care of your bad selves!

Please Standby...

2006-02-08T18:25:00.000-05:00

...please stand by... this blog is experiencing technical difficulties...

Usually by now, I've updated this dang thing. But, of course, when my blog updates become increasingly scattered and infrequent, there can only be one reason - I'm on drugs again. Well, that's not exactly true, because the second most likely answer is true: I have another test coming up. So make like Dionne Warwick and "say a little prayer for me," because I'll need all the help I can get (this is sounding awfully repetitive... but what can I say? It's worked so far! We're 3-for-3, here, guys. Let's extend the streak to 4!)

On the afternoon of February 14th, you can probably look forward to some new updates on both Effin' Sweet and Wedded Blitz. Hopefully I'll finally be able to do my run-down on current events... politics, religion, ethics... all sorts of things I was told not to talk about while in bartenders' school. And in Wedded Blitz, look forward to two, count 'em "2" articles, which will discuss Wedding Party Profiles 2: Andrea and Jim, and a little spotlight on the one-and-only Brother - Father James C. Williams, who just recently confirmed that he will be handling the priestly duties for the upcoming August Matrimon-athon.

So yes, in my lame, boring, Weight-Watching point-counting lifestyle... I'm looking forward to sitting down and blogging next week. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah!

And now, for no reason, here's a picture of me in my "Baron Bubblewrap" costume I wore for J&J's Halloween Party a couple of months ago (and yes, this is what I looked like mere hours before proposing to Ally! It really sets a romantic mood, don't you think?)

I will hypnotize you with my oh-so poppable bubbles! Muhahahah!

Seeya Tuesday!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"...and don't you think I look good in this hat?"

Sports, Sports, Sports... and Billy Joel, too

2006-01-27T14:58:00.000-05:00

Depicted: The 1913 Columbia Catamites in their home turtlenecks - Quite a bunch of rakes and roustabouts, I'll have you know!

"Now now, Barnaby... Quincy, here, meant now disrespect
about yer fancy sparrin' trunks!"

Sport n.
1.
a) Physical activity that is governed by a set of rules or customs and often engaged in competitively.
b) A particular form of this activity.

2. An activity involving physical exertion and skill that is governed by a set of rules or customs and often undertaken competitively.

3. An active pastime; recreation.

The above is the dictionary's explanation of the meaning of "sport." Recently the long-debated definition of what constitutes an activity being considered a sport has come up twice in as many weeks. First, at Hacienda Gutierrez, last weekend, and yesterday on the "JV and Elvis" show on 92.3 Free FM (God, I hate that name). In Tarrytown, Kat was debating whether figure skating was considered a sport. Many present agreed that it was, indeed, a sport. And on the radio, they had listeners calling in, arguing about whether golf was considered a sport.

In my personal estimation, I do not think that figure skating is truly a sport, and I'm somewhat skeptical about golf's sport status.

All right now, Cyrus. Keep the ball over the plate. Another bean ball like that, and we'll settle this over fisticuffs!

On www.Wikipedia.com, sport was described as such:

A sport consists of a physical and mentally competitive activity carried out with a recreational purpose for competition, for self-enjoyment, to attain excellence, for the development of a skill, or some combination of these. A sport has physical activity, side by side competition, self-motivation and a scoring system. The difference of purpose is what characterises sport, combined with the notion of individual (or team) skill or prowess.

One system for classifying sports is as follows, based more on the sport's aim than on the actual mechanics. The examples given are intended to be illustrative, rather than comprehensive.

Opponent
* Combat (wrestling, boxing, karate, etc...)
* Court (tennis, volleball, etc...)
* Team (cricket, baseball, soccer, rugby, hockey, football, lacrosse, basketball, etc...)

Achievement
* Target (archery, shooting, darts)
* Display (gymnastics, diving, bodybuilding, equestrianism)
* Strength (weight lifting, shot put, triple jump)

First off, I'm glad that the powers-that-be at Wikipedia decided to exclude Nascar, and other similar vehicular competitions. Despite requiring endangerment of one's safety and quick reflexes, racing a vehicle involves little (if any) athleticism, and thus, not a sport. Bicycling, though, in my estimation, is a sport, because it demands physical fitness and endurance, in addition to reflexes and personal endangerment.

While wikipedia's categories of opponent-based sport makes sense to me, I contest many of its "achievement-based" sports. I disagree with the on-line encyclopedia denotion of bodybuilding as a sport. While it requires excellent physical conditioning, it's scored based upon artistic and subjective review. I believe a true sport requires rules of competition which are judged as objectively as possible. That is why I feel that most gymnastics and diving performances are probably not a "sport," in the strictest sense. And furthermore, to disagree with the resolution in Hacienda Gutierrez, I feel that figure skating is really gymnastics on ice. Although they require physical fitness, athleticism, and endurance, these demonstrations are judged subjectively by judges examining "artistic expression." If figure skating were truly a sport, wouldn't dance disciplines like ballet also be considered a sport? If these contested gymnastics activites (floor exercise, balance beam, etc), diving, and figure skating were judged empirically, I would categorize them as sports. However, since both are scored with consideration for artistic expression, they forfeit their claim to "sporthood."

I'm also going to disagree with wikipedia on "target-based" sports. Archery, shooting, and darts rely on skill and practice, with some degree of strength. But is an archer truly an athlete? I think an archer is someone skilled at archery. Why be greedy?

However, discus; hammer throw; shot put; and javelin might come closer to being a sport, as it requires a great deal more athleticism than archery or shooting. Golf would come under this category, as it requires aim, physical coordination, and strength. It is also judged objectively. These activities are borderline sports, in my book. What do you guys think?

Best Christmas Gift. Period.

The Piano Man himself, Mr. Billy Joel rocked MSG this past Monday. And doesn't like to wear socks, apparently...

It all started rather innocently. Ally passed onto me what her older brother, Mike, cryptically told her: "Make sure you're free on January 23rd!" What could that possibly mean? Surprise engagement party? Kidnapping for ransom? Reality show coming to tape us? What?

Turns out, Mike bought us tickets to see the man, the myth, the Long Island Legend, Billy Joel start off his solo tour at Madison Square Garden. I've had the good fortune to see Billy with Ally before, when he was touring with Elton John. We saw them perform at Nassau Colliseum. It was fairly funny how one-sided the performances were. I mean, you have two incredibly talented musicians and performers there, and all the crowd really wanted to see was Billy Joel. I think Elton probably realized this, and took it with a grain of salt. I don't care how famous a person is, if they come performing with Billy Joel in New York (let alone Long Island!), you may as well be God, and you'll still be an afterthought. I can just picture it:

"Performing One Time Only:
God,
In His Cosmic Majesty and Omnipotent Power, the Alpha and the Omega,
the Loving Creator, He Who Rules over Heaven and Earth

...and Billy Joel"

And there's some guy from Hicksville going, "Cool! Billy Joel!" You gotta love Long Island.

Mike Herlihy, AKA "Santa Frickin' Claus," giver of the best damn gifts of 2005! Thanks, Mike!

And what can one truly say about Billy Joel's performance? The man is simply unequalled. I feel awfully sorry for future generations, because I really don't see anyone coming along down the pike who could ever come close to reaching the greatness of Mr. Billy Joel. He and Sir Elton John, being the premier singer rock n roll songwriter pianomen of the '70's and '80's, will never have proper counterparts from our generation. When we have utter garbage being presented as genuine artists, like Ashlee Simpson, getting all the attention these days, we should expect a dearth of timeless songs from our contemporaries.

I don't know if it's somehow written into your DNA by virtue of growing up on Long Island, but you can't deny that when Billy Joel's voice washes over you in an auditorium, the little hairs on the back of your neck stand on-end. If you aren't somehow moved by the exquisite harmonies from "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant," well... are you sure you're really a New Yorker... or alive at all? Seriously, you may want to check that out.

Billy Joel performed to a spellbound, capacity crowd at MSG, for nearly three hours. Even though he certainly had enough hits in his distinguished career to fill the whole show, he chose to space them out with some lesser-known selections, and a classy tip-of-the-hat to the late Wilson Pickett, with a great cover of "In the Midnight Hour." And, naturally, the encore was Piano Man. When he and his excellent band went silent while the houselights went up and the entirety of MSG sang the final chorus together... it gave you goosebumps, man.

Ray Charles' "Georgia On My Mind," is his home state's official song. Can we petition the same thing for "New York State of Mind"? It's about time, I'd say!

Richie "Rico" Cannata absolutely slayed on Monday. His virtuoso sax skills blew away the crowd. And his flute stylings were pretty freakin' great, too!

We had a weird sort of experience at the concert, though. The featured saxophonist, Mr. Rich, "Rico" Cannata is an acquaintance of Ally and mine. Many of you may recall that my sister's first boyfriend was Eren Cannata. During the course of their relationship, Ally and I had the pleasure of visiting Eren's home, and meeting his dad - Rico. An accomplished musician, specializing in saxophone, Rico's toured with the Beach Boys, Springsteen, and Billy Joel. Also, he happens to have been part of some of Billy's most celebrated albums, between 1976 and 1981... "Turnstiles," "The Stranger," "52nd Street," and "Glass Houses." Yes, that's Rico's sax on "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant," and yes, when the sax solo flares in during "It's Still Rock n Roll to Me," and Billy screams, "All Right, Rico!" You know who he's talking to?

That's right.

Rico.

Don't believe me? Check out the back of Billy's album, "The Stranger"...

It was pretty trippy to be walking around this guy's house, with gold and platinum records hung up in spots that'd normally be decorated with inspirational placques and family portaits in La Casa de Crimmins.

This concert was also a very public reunion for Billy and Rico. What with Mr. Joel's recent difficulties with addiction, Rico had decided to keep his distance from his longtime musical collaborator and Long Island neighbor. Could you imagine saying, "Yeah, sorry Billy Joel, but I can't bring my family and go out on your yacht with you for the 4th of July... we uh, already have plans." Not too many people would actually turn down invitations to hang out with Billy, but that was the situation.

Now that Billy seems to have overcome his problems, he and Rico have apparently mended fences. So it was awesome to see them playing together, again!

Although Katie and Eren have since gone their separate ways, I couldn't help but think, "Gee, if they were still going out, Ally and I would probably be going behind the scenes after the show and meeting Billy Joel." But sacrifices like that are worth a sister's happiness.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What makes certain activities a sport, and what doesn't? Agree? Disagree? Plus, what's your favorite Billy Joel song?"

And Billy Joel haters can feel free to move to Jersey and follow Bon Jovi on tour, for all I care.

Matrimony Fit Club, Day 1

2006-01-21T16:19:00.000-05:00

My wedding on August 5th, 2006 is little more than six months away.

Only half a year.

Crap!

I need to get my act together.

Yikes. I'm starting to resemble Santa Claus in more than just headwear choice.

I've mentioned my ongoing battle with the bulge in several blog entries from way back. Unfortunately, I've been on-the-wagon/off-the-wagon for fitness so many times, my metabolism has pretty much thrown up its little metaphysical hands and said, "Ah, screw it!"

But I can't give up. In fact, I need to get down to changing my ways immediately, because I really don't want to appear at my wedding as Blubber McManboobs. No thanks.

1998, in my fighting trim: 5-mile-a-day jogger and hovering somewhere in 180 lbs. land. Yeah, that sexy beast in the middle was me!

1999, Stud Muffin, or Creepy Hooters Regular? Who can know for sure?

1999, Apparently, I was also quite popular with the boys as well...

Ahh, 1999... when life was simpler... and my waist was narrower.
And I only had one chin...

So what happened? How did this virile, athletic man matamorphose into the butterball squeezed into an argyle sweater depicted above? In what can only be described as an E! True Hollywood Story-type downfall, Tom's hard-partying ways and having Domino's Pizza on speed dial nearly dashed his rock-hard abs-having dreams... FOREVER!

Tom single-handedly saved a Pizzeria Uno franchise from bankruptcy in Troy, New York, with his semi-heroic deep-dish rampage of 2001. There was tomato sauce and pizza crust everywhere...

Outside this Troy, New York restaurant a memorial was erected to commemorate that historic day. Two dish washers lost their lives that day. Often mistaken for a hubcap museum, it actually features every empty pizza pan Tom ate from.

Late nights drinking Sapporo and singing Karaoke with drunken Japanese businessmen packed on scores of empty calories... and left an indelible tie mark on my forehead. And yes, that's Al with a beer.

Ninja-like, the flab on my chin decided to expand and slowly annex part of my neck...

Descending into a destructive cycle, Tom's ten canoli-a-day diet soon proved disastrous... and the undershirt/hairy chest look wasn't too pretty, either...

To "throw down the gauntlet," is an expression, meaning, "to issue a challenge." Depicted above is an actual gauntlet, which armored knights wore on their hands during the Middle Ages. It's a visual gag.
And yes, it's not very funny.

So, upon reviewing the damaged state in which I've found myself, I decided that enough is enough. The guantlet has now been officially thrown... at myself. As of right now, I'm tipping the scales at a completely unacceptable 245 lbs. My waist is an unforgivable 43 inches. My chest is an unflattering 49.5 inches. And any other measurements I'll just keep to myself. But anyway, now that it's not a secret, you won't have to wonder why I'm not going for the 40 buffalo wing platter at Hooters anymore, or that I'm not inviting anyone over for weekly Crisco eating contests (boy, that was a bad idea! I guess hindsight is 20-20, right?)

So, now that the challenge has been presented, I've decided to swallow my pride (Heck, I've pretty much swallowed everything else these last six years...) and signed up for Weight Watchers. I'll be trying my hardest to stay on track for the next six months... and more importantly, to change my lifestyle permanently: to eat healthier, and to be more active.

Here are two links that might serve as a montage for my fitness regimen... Hans 'n' Franz.

I'll share my progress in one month!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Wish me luck!"

It Can Only Get Better From Here... Right?

2006-01-17T17:52:00.000-05:00

If My Bank Account Had a Face...

Wow. And here I thought I was going to write a slightly preachy article about Martin Luther King Day and the movie, Crash. Boy, I had some fun thoughts running through my head. About how I was going to riff, Jerry Seinfeld-esque, about how cumbersome Dr. Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr Day is to say. About how I'd discuss the themes and excellent performances of the movie, Crash, and how acts of kindness can propagate further acts of kindness, just as acts of hatred produce more hatred. Hell, I was finally all set to give my two cents about ultra-zealous born-again Christians and why they bug me so much.

"Many Happy Miles?!" You lie, Pam! You lie!

(and yes, that Ethiopian white kid was me... once upon a time...)

But then, I happened to bring my car to the garage. My sweet, wonderful Saturn SL-1. The one-and-only "Foxy Lady." The one-time jewel of our fleet, right after we graduated Chaminade, having since been surpassed by first Wayne's Mustang, then Jim's Firebird, and later Chris's Grand Am (or Grand Prix? I always confuse the two)... but basically, everyone I know pretty much has a newer car than me. My superlative mode of conveyance for nearly nine years, which has taken me, without fail, on road trips to Washington DC, Binghamton, Troy, Villanova, Woodstock '99, Boston, Providence, Maine, Canada, and not to mention that little cross-country trip to California and back. The little green car that could, that collided into the Union Turnpike Underpass and lived to tell the tale (along with a merry little comic strip, to boot), not to mention a couple of other dingers along the way... The car that had its left-hand rearview mirror torn off TWICE within six months... the car that was mysterious towed to College Point back in the Fall of '97 because of my PARENT'S unpaid parking tickets. That same car I've locked the keys in, with the engine running, at Nassau Colliseum, on a Friday Night...

That car.

Why does it sound like I'm writing its obituary?

Because I want to kill the damn thing.

If my car were a fruit...

Not since my car blew a gasket (apparently the gasket made of diamond-encrusted gold) back in '02, have I had such an expensive trip to the garage. Because my car inspection is coming up soon, and because I no longer had any brake fluid pressure (it's a fun experience, not having breaks... no, not really) my hand was forced, and had to suck it up at the cash register. $1,300 later, my financial outlook is a little grimmer. I'm most certainly going to have to take a part-time job by the end of March, if not sooner. Of course, this might be a blessing in disguise, (a very, very expensive disguise, but a disguise nonetheless). I've been determined to stop eating junk food. I want to lose some weight and get in great shape for the wedding. Now, eating out is pretty much not an option anymore! Yay! I guess.

There are some of you out there that might be shaking their heads while reading this. Those that say, "Get a new car, Tom! It's not worth it, anymore." Ah well, since I can't work a full-time job, let alone, a well-paying job, purchasing a good car at this time isn't exactly a workable scenario. Some day, yes. But as for now, the "Foxy Lady" is just going to have to limp along, at least for the next three years. If I can just make it through the rest of medical school without another prison rape re-enactment at a Midas Station, I'll be just fine.

...Putting Bob Midas's kids through college since 1997...

Ah well, for my next post, I'll certainly try to bring back the light and funny. Thanks for reading my venting and vexations...

I'll give Dr. King his proper due next time. And what's the deal with his name? It's pretty cumbersome, "Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr." You'd think he would've settled on a title. But no, he's both Doctor and Reverend. Crazy stuff, I tell you...

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Free form today, kiddos... tell me whatever..."

Big Blues and My Birthday, Too

2006-01-09T15:02:00.000-05:00

Okay, so much for the Giants.

But before I get started, I figure I should make a confession: frustrated blog articles and throwback Bavaro jerseys aside, I'm not a big Giants fan.

In truth, I root for them, I wear their apparel (Back in the day, I wore a royal blue Giants starter jacket (remember how popular those things were, back in the early '90's? I actually had mine stolen out of my locker - ahh, public school - along with my asthma inhaler in the inside pocket. I walked the whole way home without a jacket, which pissed my Mom off - don't ever get on the bad side of an asthmatic kid's Momma, she will destroy all trangressors. Well, anyway, Mom was waiting to pick me up at the front of the school several days later when she sees some dipshit wearing two starter jackets at once (yeah, one on top of another - what an idiot) sure enough, one of them happened to be a royal blue Giants starter jacket. (Back then, most starter jackets were black, so a bright blue one was fairly uncommon) Well, my mom actually got out of the car and approached the little thug and asked innocently, "Say! That's a nice jacket! I'd like to get one of those for my son. Where did you get it?" To which the little bastard replied, "Uh, buh... guh... rap music, jolt cola" - did I mention this was public school? Anyway, Mom then asked if she could see the inside pocket, and not surprisingly, the tag that had my name written on it was ripped off. My Mom then pulled a Linda Blair, switched on what was probably the most satanic voice my sweet mother could ever conceivably muster, and snarled, "You know, I bet there was an asthma spray in that pocket, and I bet whichever kid you took that from had to walk all the way home in the cold without his jacket or medicine, you sword-swallowing assclown! Okay, she didn't actually get to say that last bit, because as my Mom was getting revved-up, the mouth-breathing dufus realized that this strange woman wasn't really asking him where to buy the jacket, but was in fact, quite accurately accusing him of stealing it. He blubbered, "Uh yeah, I'll give it back, okay, lady?" Sure enough, I was called out of science class the very next day to the assistant principal's office and given back my royal blue Giants starter jacket. This is probably one of my Mom's lesser-known triumphs, but I'll always give her props for it. Mom rocks.) Yikes, that sure was a long tangent... anyway, about them Giants...

"Ohhhhh! I was supposed to catch the ball?!"

Truly, I'm not a terribly big sports fan. My Dad is, though. My Dad loves the Yankees and the Giants. I love my Dad. Thus, I love the Yankees and the Giants. But does my Dad love me? (just kidding, of course he does) However, I will rarely actually sit and watch an entire game, especially a regular season game. I'm happy when they win, bummed when they lose, but for the most part, the fortunes of rich athletes representing New York does not emotionally impact my life for the most part (except when the Red Sox beat the Yanks... then my day is ruined.) I think I'm much more concerned whether they win or lose because I know it matters so much to my Dad. I'm disappointed the Giants lose because I know it bothers my Dad. If my Dad's bothered, then I'm bothered. Typically, Sundays during football season in la Casa de Crimmins are dark ones, indeed.

"Oh drat, lost again. Hmm, I wonder if I should take the yacht out tomorrow...."

My Dad is quite insane, though, when it comes to football. Because, from my perspective, he seems to derive absolutely no pleasure from the experience. He doesn't cheer. Once. Even when they're winning. He always has this resigned look on his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or in the Giants case, the other flag to be thrown on the play. The only emotions he exhibits, other than anxious dread, are flashes of frustrated anger, when the Giants do something stupid (which can be quite often). For a man who is so easy-going and mellow, it blows my mind that he puts himself through this torture, week after week, season after season. I guess I'll never understand.

But it still sucks that the Giants went out like a bunch of punks.

Sorry Mongo, No Pinatas This Year...

And so, I have reached the hallowed age of 27. Man, ten years ago I was a junior in high school, taking driver's ed... waiting to take the SAT's... and not yet gone on a first date or any of that jazz. And I still had a year to go to see Metallica in concert for the first time. '96 was the year of Trainspotting and Beavis & Butthead Do America. It was a very good year. Where will I be at 37?

Hopefully not still living at home waiting to finish med school... that's for sure!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What's Your Favorite Birthday Memory? A gift? A party? Uncle Jed stayed sober?"

New Year, Same Antics

2006-01-03T17:15:00.000-05:00

"Let auld acquaintance be forgot... something, something.... Something!"

And so, the house was still standing. This past Saturday, I attempted to throw my first-ever New Year's Eve Party. It had to be done. Ally was getting tired of celebrating New Year's without me for the last six years (somehow, I always ended up working) and I didn't want to have to decide between groups of friends for New Years. So, as they say, if you want something done right... or in this case, obnoxiously, noisily, and over-the-top... do it yourself.

Despite my absurdly early start-time (4:30PM) things eventually started taking shape around 7:30. Folks from near and far were trickling in between 7 and 9. And for a while, I had more west coast friends than east coasters in my house! Jimbo, Kate, Andy, and Manda all had hoofed it from the Washington state to join in the festivities (okay, they might've been in town for other Christmasy reasons or such... how would I know?

Congrats to Manda and Andy on their Wedding Engagement!

As Chris and Mad have been so generous with their photos, I had a veritable embarassment of riches to choose from. Of course, as the night went on, I my appearances grew stranger and stranger (read: "drunker and drunker")... so here on Effin' Sweet, there'll be a bit of self-censorship as it were. Plus, I'd like those who weren't there to think that the party involved more than just me running around, red faced and wild eyed, wearing a jaunty santa hat and double fisting champagne bottles. Uh... no. That hardly happened... at all.

I'm talkin' 'bout the Chronic! What? Culs of Narnia! Baker's Dozen, Muthaf*cka!

If you don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout... check out this great SNL Music Video, "Lazy Sunday!"

Oh, the Frothy Goodness!

Though I had earlier gotten the bright idea to suggest everyone make their own "pimp cup" to drink from, a quick visit to the local craft store (and yes, I'm embarrassed about how familiar I am with those) squelched to project, as fake diamonds and gem stones are only slightly cheaper than actual ones. Being the unemployed goon that I am, I settled for a series of beer cans for the night. But Mad, provided me with a surprise pimp cup, a gigantic wine glass, whose booze capacity has not yet been easily measured. Currently, it's been shipped to Stockholm so it can be accurately calibrated by the Nobel Committee for Absurdly Oversized Drinking Containers. Who knew they actually existed?!

Cigar Walk '05: Front Row: Andrew, Mark, Kevin; Back Row: Mike, Nim, Al, Jay, Matt, Jim, Esteban, Brian, Me, Kris, and Andy (Chris is taking the shot)

I finally put a dent in my infamous cigar box from July, as I happily shared my wares with my amigos for our annual tabacco'd trek around Floral Park. The tale of the infamous cigars is thus: despite your best intentions, don't bring an American-bought box of cigars to a Cuban family party. It's sorta akin to volunteering Ragu sauce at a traditional Italian Dinner. Everyone laughs it off with a sort of "who invited that guy?" kinda look.

And in the category of things I never thought I'd see again: Kris Liard on Long Island and Michelle drinking a beer!

Happy reunions abounded as our good buddy from back-in-the-day, Kris, triumphantly returned from weird, wacky world of Ohio. Yes... that's someplace west of Manhattan... I'm not exactly sure where, though. All kidding aside, it was great to see the lad again, even temporarily.

"She pulled out the DVD... then I pulled out my berretta!"

The White Elephant Gifts went off with nary a hitch this year, with several memorable contributions. Andy got a Zombie Survival Guide, Chris got Spider-Man web shooters... and Mad once again flexed her creative muscles and lent her skills to a five-part White Elephant Gift that culminated with a set of three "portable, hand-held urinals!" However, the true jewel of the evening was Erin's pick - "R. Kelly's Trapped in the Clost" the DVD! Put in by Kat, it turned out to be a fun way to finish out the evening... a 20 minute laugh-fest involving infidelity, midgets, Bridgets, gay pastors, and berrettas. Despite his child-molesting tendencies, R. Kelly is arguably the comic genius of our times. Touche' Dave Chappelle!

Thanks to one and all for joining us for ringing in 2006. If the party was any indication... this should be an awesome year indeed!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"If you could go back and change one thing you did last year, what would it be?"

2005 Bloggie Awards

2005-12-28T19:07:00.000-05:00

Welcome, one and all to the 2005 "Bloggie" Awards! Today, we take a moment to recognize the talented men and women who've brought some of the best blogs to the internet, sharing their anecdotes, their unique perspectives, their very selves into our virtual, hard-wired world. Without their participation, creativity, and enthusiasm, I would most certainly study a whole lot more, and probably get better grades.

Oh well.

Billy Crystal couldn't make it this year, so I'll be doing my humble part in hosting these prestigious awards.

First Up: The Bloggie Award for,
"Blog Most Likely to Feature Louie Molesting a Drag Queen."

And the nominees are: "Louie's Transsexual Tips 'n' Tricks," "Astoria's Wildest Party Boys," "Fondleblog," and "Migglah's World."

And the the Bloggie Award for, "Blog Most Likely to Feature Louie Molesting a Drag Queen" goes to... Migglah's World! Migglah's World is a great blog that updated fairly regularly by our buddy, Marla. She roots for the Red Sox, but we forgive her for that. Barely.

Next Up, the "Bloggie" Award for...
"Best Comeback Blog"

This award is given out to that special blog that everyone thought had ground to a halt, with no updates for weeks or even months, only to return with a flurry of articles, with such enthusiasm as if to make up for lost time...

And the nominees are, "Coping With Attention Deficit Disorder... Huh?," "Capricious, the Blog," "The Official Haley's Comet Blog!," and "Insanity Is My Only Defense."

And the Bloggie Award for, "Best Comeback Blog" goes to... Insanity Is My Only Defense! IIMOD is an always-entertaining blog, tenaciously updated by our good friend, Chris. There was a rough patch of time between October 16th and November 24th in which I very nearly gave up all hope that it would be updated ever again. However, I was quite relieved to be proven wrong by Chris, as he's been blogging like a fiend since then!

The "Bloggie" Award for...
"Most Frustrating Comment Process on a Blog"

And the nominees are, "Dead Language Blogs United," "Marching Morse Code Monkeys," "Swahili Sam," and "Miller, Coors, and Budweiser."

And the Bloggie Award for "Most Frustrating Comment Process on a Blog" goes to... Miller, Coors, and Budweiser! MC&B is a brand-new blog by Kevin. While his articles on X-Box 360 pyramid schemes and the Chronicles of Narnia are awesome... his blog restrictions have left my comments in internet limbo forever. (Editor's Note: At writing, I was unaware that comments had finally gotten posted on MC&B. Who said instant gratification is impossible? My apologies, Kevin... you still have an awesome blog.)

The "Bloggie" Award for...
"Best Blog Written By, For, or About James Grant"

And the nominees are, "I Hide Outside Jim Grant's Window Every Night in the Bushes, the Blog," "Guitars, the Jets, and the Navy... and the Eagle Scouts Who Love Them," "Truckasaurus Tales," and "Everyone Else Is Doing It Why Can't I?"

And the Bloggie Award for "Best Blog Written By, For, or About James Grant" goes to... Everyone Else Is Doing It Why Can't I! EEIDIWCI is a fantastic new blog, not even two months old, and provides the wry perspectives on life of James Grant, by the man himself! EEIDIWCI is shaping up to be a consistent crowd-pleaser in our blog-o-sphere, and he's just getting warmed up!

The "Bloggie" Award for...
"Blog Most Likely to Mention Gambling, The OC, or Something Political"

And the nominees are, "Al Franken's Over-Under," "ACLU on The OC," Bill Maher's Bookie Blog," and "The Long and Winding Road (Revisited)"

And the Bloggie Award for, "Blog Most Likely to Mention Gambling, The OC, or Something Political" goes to... The Long and Winding Road (Revisited)! TLAWRR is the longest-lived of our little patch of the blog-o-sphere, and with good reason, as Mikey has consistently produced excellent blog entries, encompassing politics, sports, TV, music, and the always appreciated, "Turkey and Bagel Day."

The "Bloggie" Award for...
"Pinkest Blog"

And the nominees are, " Stacy's Super Sugar Sweet Sorority Sisters!," "Butterfly Dreams and Unicorn Fantasies," "Gus Brunechek's Blog," and "Five-Hour Phone Conversations"

And the Bloggie Award for "Pinkest Blog" goes to... Five-Hour Phone Conversations! 5HPC is arguably one of the more heartfelt and sincere blogs around, as our pal, Maggie, often discusses homelessness, crass consumerism, and Christian Bale. Rock-on, Maggie!

The "Bloggie" Award for...

"Absentee Landlord Blog"

This award goes to the blog that, at this writing, appears to be completely abandoned and shows little promise of ever being updated.

And the nominees are, "I'm Just Registering So I Can Comment On Other People's Blogs, the Blog," "Bob Hope's Blog," "Ross Perot for Prez!," and "You Don't Like It? I Don't Care!"

And the Bloggie Award for "Absentee Landlord Blog" goes to... You Don't Like It? I Don't Care! YDLIIDC takes the prize and completes the "busting Louie's chops" bookends of this article. Louie, we love you. Now update your blog. We miss you! It's been nearly two months!

The "Bloggie" Award for...
"Reader's Choice: Favorite Effin' Sweet Article"

And the winner, since there was only one nomination (shame on all the rest of you! Or maybe every one of my articles suck, so shame on me?) is... "Commencements: Endings and Beginnings," August 22nd, 2005. (You'll have to scroll down to the article, if you want to click the link to see it. My sincerest gratitude to Chris for nominating this article. Commencements featured the end to my summer vacation and my trepidation about beginning med school. Plus, it welcomed into the world our dear, dear beer pong table - Duff Stadium. Long may it stay level and coverd in beer!

Finally, the "Bloggie " Award for...
"Most Faithful Effin' Sweet Blog Commenter"

And the nominees are, Tio Marco, Maggie, Super Al, and Chris. Quite a horserace, but the standings are clear: to date, Tio Marco has left a hefty 9 comments, and Maggie has left 10. Super Al looked like the favorite to win, with a total 24 comments. However, Chris is clearly victorious, with a whopping 30 comments!

But all comments, many or few, are always appreciated, and I thank you all for taking the time to tell me what you think of my blog. It's been quite a year. To describe this year, I need only two words:

"Effin' Sweet!"

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What are you looking forward to most, in 2006?"

Chipper Christmas!

2005-12-25T11:10:00.000-05:00

Okay. So I passed. But it was scary, dude!

And when I got that e-mail, that said... "Okay, don't worry about the integumentary system anymore, pal... because you made it!" Well, that pretty much made my vacation. Now, I get to enjoy the next week or so, not stressing out about a make-up exam. I was so happy with the news, I immediately went onto google images and typed in, "hell yeah." What pictures you see are the result. I also put in, "woo hoo," and I got the top and bottom pictures. Okay, so my life is pretty dull. In spending nearly 48 hours awake for my test and subsequent celebration, I did get to see King Kong, though. It was everything I thought it'd be. I hope it'll be a success, because it's evident that Mr. Peter Jackson put a great deal of love and care into this project. And yes, I'm not embarrassed to admit it, I was crying at the end. Basically, if you got choked up watching The Iron Giant... then this movie will leave you feeling awfully sad. But the ride... oh what a ride it was!

Now, I can see how people complain that it seems too long. It is long. And unlike Peter Jackson's previous three films, you don't have Viggo Mortensen's dreamy blue eyes and homoerotic hobbit dialogue to distract you. So this time you can definitely tell that a significant chunk of time has elapsed. I'd say a more ruthless, George Lucasian, film editor could've pared the 3-hour behemoth down by nearly an hour. A geek like me can sit and be amazed for 3 hours, but I acknowledge that the average theater-goer will probably get a little fidgety. For instance, there's an entire subplot involving a young stowaway and first mate that's entirely disposable (I think it was put in, simply to feature one black guy who DIDN'T have a bone through his nose and yelling "Ooga Booga!") Otherwise, he really didn't affect the overall storyline in the least. But, I reiterate, this
is a minor critique. The movie is absolutely incredible, and demands to be seen on the big screen.

And so, having kicked off my Christmas vacation with some pints, some pals, some primates, and a passing grade... I have since gotten some much-needed sleep, and been manically shopping for the last two days. The only gift that remains is the White Elephant Present... but I have a couple more days until I need that...

So now, I look forward to Jim's homecoming, some much needed hanging out, and some fun parties. It's gonna be a Merry Christmas, all right!

Folks, in the next week, look forward to the first-ever "Bloggies" Awards, acknowledging the notable contributors to the online dialogue, that always provides a great excuse to procrastinate and avoid my medical school work!

Furthermore, I'll weigh in on such topics as the "Happy Holidays" controversey and I'll try to avoid gloating about Johnny Damon. I'll try. Really.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What Ever Happened to Tio Marco and Dr. Love? We Never Hear from Them Anymore on the Feedback Forum."

Woo Hoo! Merry Christmas!

Here I Cram Again...

2005-12-16T12:03:00.000-05:00

No, Whitesnake... Thank YOU!

I don't know what I'm doing

But, I sure know where I've been

Hanging out with Alison
At the mall yesterday
An' I've made up my mind,
I ain't wasting no more time
But, here I cram again
Here I cram again

Tho' I keep searching for some answers,
I never seem to find the facts I'm looking for
Oh lord, I pray
You give me strength to carry on,
'cos it's worse than it seems
To read about mutations of your genes.

An' here I cram again on my own
Studyin' the only way I've ever known,
Procrastinators were born to stress alone
But I've made up my mind
I'll stop wasting so much time

It's just my GPA in need of rescue,
Countin' on the curve's charity
An' I'm gonna hold on
For these next two rough days,
'cos my ol' self esteem
Could blow apart in a big cloud of steam

An' here I cram again on my own
Studyin' the only way I've ever known,
Procrastinators were born to stress alone
But I've made up my mind
I ain't wasting no more time

But, here I cram again,
Here I cram again,
Here I cram again,
Here I moan...

(awesome 80's guitar solo)

I know topical creams
Usually help to block histamines

An' here I cram again on my own
Studyin' the only way I've ever known,
Procrastinators were born to stress alone
But I've made up my mind,
I ain't wasting no more time

So' here I cram again on my own
Studyin' the only way I've ever known,
Procrastinators were born to stress alone
'cos in my scary dreams
Tommy'll end up homeless, somewhere in Queens

Thus, here I cram again on my own
Studyin' the only way I've ever known,
Procrastinators were born to stress alone...

"Caffeine You Can Chew"... only legal in 2 states, and this ain' t one of 'em.

As I sally forth into my third med school test, I look forward to that time beyond the immediate 48 hours, when I can breathe free and untroubled. A relaxing and happy holiday season is waiting. Hopefully, all will go well with my exams, and I can blog happy at the end of the week. Some blog articles I'd like to do before the New Year: "Idiots of 2005," and "Blog Awards." I'll need your help, though. Let me know which of my articles is your personal favorite. I'm curious what you guys think. Plus, nominate the biggest idiots of 2005, in your opinion. Also, I really wanted to have Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again," playing on this blog, but I couldn't figure out how to do it. I'd appreciate any help that is offered.

Feedback Questions of the Day:
"What was your favorite article from this blog this year? And who do you think were the biggest idiots of 2005?"

Disturbing December

2005-12-14T03:53:00.000-05:00

It's always healthy to take a break from routine. Days in, and days out in medical school, the repetitive nature of my lifestyle began to grate on me. It seemed that my much-needed respite lay far off on December 22nd... the Holiday Vacation, was woefully out of reach. No fun for poor old Tom. Fortunately, my good buddy Johnny G came to my rescue. It all started with a series of e-mails...

John: Hey Tom, I have an extra ticket to see Disturbed on December 13th. You wanna go?
Me: Gee... money's awfully tight.
John: I'm offering the ticket for free. Take it, scumbag.
Me: Golly Gawillickers... I have a final the following week, I should probably be responsible.
John: Okay... dork.

(Days Pass)
I send out a group e-mail, describing some of the Christmas movies I'm excited about.

Me: Hey guys, anyone interested in seeing King Kong? It's coming out on December 14th!
John: So you can see a movie on the 14th, but you can't see a free concert on the 13th? What's up with that?
Me: Shucks and Snazzleberries! You're right! Sign me up!

And so it goes...

Charter Members of the Tom Selleck Fan Club: Me and Johnny

John had a office holiday party to go to beforehand, so I met up with him at his office in Manhattan (3 blocks away from Midtown Comics... Lucky!), he passed off my ticket, and we agreed to meet later on at the Nokia Theater around 7:30-ish. I killed some time at the aforementioned Midtown Comics and then grabbed a quick bite at the nearby Mickey D's. All was fine until a panhandler confronted me and asked me to buy him a soda. (I figured something was up, because he sat down at the table across from me and started looking furtively all around to make sure no employees or anything saw him... needless to say, I was a bit nervous) So he finally makes his move... and...

"Sorry, buddy." says I, the cold, unfeeling bastard that I am.
"Comon' brother." cajoles the scary homeless man.

At this point, I stalk out of the restaurant, and up towards Times Square. For some reason, (maybe because the hobo was looking all suspicious) I had this dreadful premonition that he was going to follow me and shiv me out on the busy street. Sure there'd be plenty of witnesses, and he'd never get away... but his advantage would be that he's crazy, and thus, doesn't care..

So I ducked into a souvenir shop and stared at Giants jerseys for a little while, chatting with Ally on my cell (those dang things are starting to come in handy, I must say!)

Anyway, digressions involving scary men aside, I eventually met up with John and went into the concert. We checked our stuff and I offered to buy John a drink at the bar (it was the least I could do). I bought a Captain Morgan's straight up, and a Heineken. The damage? Fourteen bucks. Well, that cut into my Christmas shopping money, just a tad. Yeah, obviously, I'm not used to buying drinks in Manhattan. I was a bit surprised.

We both bought t-shirts, and then headed into the theater. Apparently, the Nokia theater has four sections: the general admission ground floor; firmly demarcated by a rail is the first balcony, standing room only; a back, seated area (a source of nonstop consternation for both David Draiman and Lizard Guy... some people stubbornly insisted on sitting throughout the concert.... FOR SHAME!); and an upper tier above both sides of the general admission ground floor (they had some sweet posters hanging from them... but unfortunately, these sections were inadmissible to us members of the unwashed rabble.)

The opening act was "Dope." They were okay. Personally, my favorite part was when they did their cover of "You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)" Other than that, I couldn't quite get over their whole look... which is supposed to be all nu-metal, but is already starting to look a bit dated. The closest approximation for these guys are the "Hardy Boyz," of WWE.

Seriously, Mom... I don't know what happened to your stockings!

In between band sets, the aforementioned Lizard Man would come out and serve as a distraction for the crowd. I have to hand it to whoever ran this concert. The intermissions between sets were pretty short. In the past, I've experienced waits up to and beyond an hour for a band to come onstage. Lizard Man would cavort around, putting things through his nose, getting darts thrown at him, blowing up condoms, lifting heavy objects up with his earlobes, and making dirty jokes... it passed the time. At one point his partner came out and lifted two bottles of Jagermeister with hooks lodged in his eye sockets... (yeah, it's as gross as it sounds)

I can't wait to see what he looks like in 40 years... if lizards live that long...

Another interesting character was a guy in the mosh pit who was a spitting image of another associate of ours. John and I dubbed him "Metal Grandone." He had his shirt off and was bouncing around the circle, smacking into frustrated former-high school football players and the other sort of general wifebeater-clad cretins that usually participate in mosh pits.

Mike Grandone: Jamaica Me Crazy, Mon! Irie!

Sandwiched between Dope and Disturbed was Corrosion of Conformity. And to quote the late, and infinitely great, Mitch Hedberg, "They were heavy, boy!" Seeing them live after all these years made me regret not taking them too seriously back when they were the opening act for Metallica (I'm thinking it was the Load Tour, back in'97... correct me if I'm wrong). As I write this, I'm bidding on one of their albums on eBay. They were that freakin' good. Lead singer/rhythm guitarist Pepper Keenan strode out onto stage looking like James Hetfield, circa 1991. They put on a truly awesome set...

A band can always be judged by the quality of their logo: Corrosion of Conformity, thus, is very, very awesome.

Every song had a solid, heavy riff, Pepper's vocals were thunderous, and the percussion was on-point. These guys rocked. No doubt about it.

Pepper Keenan... Melting my face

One strange thing was, their other guitarist bore a striking resemblance to Ron Jeremy. To what extent he resembles the Ron, I cannot say. Only the groupies know for sure...

My solos are long and heavy... just the way you like it...

Finally, after making it through Lizard Man hijinx, Crazy Town rejects, and mighty COC with the three-legged guitarist... Disturbed took the stage...

In medical school today, I learned that David Draiman is exhibiting Alopecia Totalis... but more importantly, he's already got a terminal case of Kickass Totalis. Prepare to be rocked.

This was the second time I've seen Disturbed play live, and they did not disappoint. In my humble opinion, Disturbed is arguably the best new heavy metal band of the new millenium so far. And David Draiman is truly the last rock god, in the classic sense. He struts around stage like he owns it. He commands the audience because he owns it. And seriously, the man has pipes. My throat was shot after about the third song. I kept singing, naturally... but I doubt I produced anything more eloquent than a hoarse gurgle. How he does it, night after night... is simply mystifying. (He later revealed that he had to give up drinking to keep up with the demands of the tour... sorry to hear that, Dave) In between a couple of songs, he provided a little banter... at one time exhorting the seated people in the back to get the eff up, another time to lambast "all those bands that start with, 'The'."

It was a truly epic small-venue show, and I had an awesome time. Big thanks to my man, Johnny G, for taking pity on a beleaugered med student. Next drinks are on me, buddy!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Share your favorite small-venue music show story... or, what concerts are you looking forward to this upcoming year?"

Random Musings

2005-12-06T18:40:00.000-05:00

Maybe I was a little too preachy last time.

I'm willing to admit it. I get on a roll, and suddenly I'm spouting Hallmark Card platitudes and "Can't We All Just Get Along"-isms. I get my Irish up and out comes the fire and brimstone. My feedback question last time was, "So am I off my rocker or what?" To which Chris and Jim answered quite succinctly, "Yes, you are."

So, I'll keep the sermons to a minimum in the future.

It's funny though, because aside from summaries of events in my life, rants seem to be a natural fit for blogs. It's not like I have time to imagine up some clever little skits or anything... (and I don't have time to be blogging, either... and yet I do. (But sleep is overrated.))

After a conversation with Jimmy back on Sunday, I got a couple of blog ideas for the future (ie: after my next exam, December 21st) such as an end of the year wrap-up, honorary awards for my favorite blogs, and possibly a new feature, "Tom's Book of the Dead," which ultimately I hope will be merely a mini-series, rather than an ongoing feature, relating past friendships that have gone to the crapper, and how it all hilariously ended! But I'm sure after my test, and I'm full of holiday cheer... I'll think better of it and go back to soapbox ravings...

Nerds, Assemble! Gather forth your black trenchcoats and 12-sided die... it's time for The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe! In spite of myself, I'm excited. (Okay, it's not in spite of myself, I always love movies like this). But can you blame me? We had three great holiday seasons, back, to back, to back, with the Lord of the Rings. Last Christmas sucked... in at least the "Mythical, Epic Story Movie" category. Last year, the best we got was Pixar's The Incredibles. Which was a great movie... but certainly not in the same vein as the Lord of the Rings. In addition to family gatherings, peace on earth, and good will toward men, is it so wrong to demand axe-wielding minotaurs battling spear-chucking centaurs as part of my Holiday experience? I ask for so little. I will quite happily share my movie review sometime this weekend, as I intend on seeing it opening night, this Friday.

And while we're on the subject of new movies... will the 50,000 pound gorilla please stand up?
Oh baby. Oh baby, oh. I cannot wait to see this flick. I'm not sure if I want to see it opening weekend, or hold off until the night of my exam, as a celebration. While seeing a flick on a Wednesday night will be a bit tough for some people to join me for, watching Kong kick dino-ass might be just what the doctor ordered after another killer med school test. Catharsis, I love you so. It's a perfect recipe for sweet awesomeness: Peter Jackson + New York City + Jack Black = Oh Baby, This Rocks. Seriously. The math doesn't lie.

It's become pretty clear that Jack Black is the greatest man in history since Jesus. He knows it. So do we. Even though it looks like Jables is trying to pull a Jim Carrey in Kong, playing it straight, toning down his wacky mannerisms, he'll still add his unique flavor to the flick. Adrien Brody is a fantastic actor, as is Naomi Watts. Throw the classic story together in the Depression-era New York City, with Lord of the Rings Peter Jackson at the helm, along with an army of digital artists that make George Lucas a wee bit jealous... and King Kong is a can't-miss hit. Even Tom Hanks' son is in it, Colin. (And FYI, according to the imdb website, Colin Hanks was the runner up to Hayden Christensen to play Anakin Skywalker in Clones and Sith... "What if..." indeed!)

To wrap up, I'm pretty excited about this summer, what with X-Men 3 coming out... the stupid trailer doesn't work on the apple website... but I heard it'll be coming attraction before King Kong, so it's all good. You can check out pictures of the characters, including new additions Juggernaut (sans helmet, hopefully he'll get it for the movie), Beast (in all his blue furry goodness), Callisto, Kitty Pryde, and Angel (feathered wings, and all!), here... and here. Oh yes, what else is coming up this summer.... oh right! My wedding! (Which reminds me, I should update that other blog...)

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What are you looking forward to most, this holiday season?"

Why are We So Upset?!

2005-12-01T21:20:00.000-05:00

I find it amusing how some people get upset over the most mundane, absurd things in the world. Some folks walk around all day, with a black cloud over their head, like it's the end of the world. But to all those misery chicks, tortured poets, frustrated romantics, and the plain ol' pessimists, I say, "Lighten up!" Because, seriously, your day just isn't that bad. I got to spend an hour today learning about all sorts of congenital abnormalities. Little switcheroos in the human genetic code that cause disfiguring and crippling malformations of the body. Before you even resemble a human being, you're already screwed. Like "Lobster Boy," to the left, people with congenital abnormalities pretty much have the deck stacked against them from day one. To put it another way, a wise man once said, "I cursed my corns until I met a man with no feet." And it's true. Pissed off that you only got the parking space far away from the mall? Remember the poor dude in the wheelchair that would love to take that walk for you.

It really puts into perspective your bad day.

As a little sidenote about Lobster Boy, my teacher explained that that grotesque little cherub from the picture was actually quite the asshole. Though he couldn't walk, his arms were very strong, and he apparently was an abusive husband and father. And to top it off, he even killed one of his daughter's suitors because he didn't approve of him. Yeah. Killed him. Plus, he weaseled out of prison because he claimed the state did not have the facilities to accomodate his handicap. So tragically deformed people don't necessarily corner the market on virtue in suffering. As fellow human beings, they have just as much a proclivity to being a jerk. But when you realize just how lucky you are to be born with a working body and mind... well, let me repeat myself when I say, "It really puts into perspective your bad day!"

To further discuss my unabashed wonderment at how people get riled up about the most absurd things, I'd like to offer two examples. The first, is Gay Marriage. What is the big, flaming deal? I think this comedian, Louis C.K., puts it in perspective. (But be forewarned, the language isn't exactly Disney-appropriate). The Daily Show also puts in their views. But essentially, what is the difference between two gay individuals living together for their entire life, and getting married? If one is to argue against gay marriage based upon religious conviction, I can understand, as their is no allowance for homosexuality in 2000-year-old scripture. However, civil, state-approved, secular marriage has no overt ties to organized religion. So shouldn't a judge or justice of the peace be able to marry a gay couple? Wouldn't a married couple contribute to the stability of society more than two people merely living together? I would think so. Because moral and religious convictions aside, the positive aspect of the institution of marriage is the establishment of a more stable, orderly, community. However, I concede that the allowance of religious marriage for gays would ultimately be up to the individual religions' governing bodies. In the secular realm, though, gay marriage should be an obvious right.

And while on the subject, what's up with all this nonsense in Rome about "No Gay Priests!" rule? Priests are supposed to be celibate, in the first place. So their sexual orientations should be moot, due to their sacred vows and commitment to the Church. There seems to be some bizarre mis-correlation connecting homosexuality and pedophilia. Seriously, guys, the two things are mutally exclusive. Someone can be gay, or be a child molester, or both. But just because someone is gay, doesn't automatically make them altar boy predators. It's the 21st Century, gentlemen... let's try to use some common sense. A more sensible reaction to the tragic pedophilia scandals that have rocked primarily the American Catholic Church, is to carefully examine the structure of the church organization, as well and re-assessing the screening, training, and current lifestyle of priests.

So on one side of the spectrum, we have the politically conservative getting all nuts over nothing. However, way over on the traditionally left, they have another group, whose whinings continually irritate me to no end. And no, it's not animal rights people, or greenpeace people, or even pacifists. I'm talking about athiests.

What the unholy heck is wrong with these people?!

You'd think, that they, being athiests, (that is, believing in no God), they'd be the most easy-going people in the world. With no God, there'd be no objective moral measure to the universe... so it's all good, brother! Let's agree to disagree! It doesn't matter! Right? WRONG! They give scary religious nutjobs a run for their money in the intolerance department.

Actually, let me clarify that: obviously not all athiests are annoying, hectoring banshees out to ruin everyone's good time. The all-or-nothing jerkoffs are cut from the same cloth that all religious zealots are. I'd imagine that the majority of athiests out there are probably either relatively good people who live productive lives, or to a lesser extent, teenagers just trying to piss off their parents.

But seriously. Who cares if it says, "In God We Trust" on money, or "Under God" in the pledge, or "God Bless You" when we sneeze. If I happened to live in India, I wouldn't at all be surprised if my rupees said, "In Vishnu's many arms we trust." I understand the framers of our constitution had the wisdom and foresight to state that there shall be no establishment of a single religion in the US of A. But they also said that "We are endowed by our Creator, that all men are created equal." That's right from square-one, the Declaration of Independence. Pretty straight-forward. The principle of separation of church and state was meant to prevent one single religious denomination from taking over, such as the Church of England, and so forth. It was put into the constitution to provide freedom of religion for all citizens. The right to worship, and be religious, in peace. Not freedom from religion, as it seems to be interpreted mostly today. So, athiest activists, can't we just relax, call it a "Christmas Tree," instead of a "Holiday Tree," and call it a "Menorah," instead of a "Winter Candlestick," and stop being so uptight?

So, let me wrap this blog article up by saying... let's stop the bickering, the crankiness, and the grumpy bitchiness. Let's try to look beyond our petty, personal issues, and aim for the greater good. Let Lance and Bruce get married. Be appreciative that Fr. Karl has such great fashion sense and can accessorize every Sunday with style. And maybe forego picketing the elementary school's Christmas pageant this year. Please. Because as I continue to learn more in medical school about the miracle of life... we should all be grateful just to be healthy and alive.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"So what do you think? Am I off my rocker, or what?"

Thanksgiving Breaks and Bruises

2005-11-27T21:05:00.000-05:00

Am I sleepy? Drunk? Recently lobotomized? All of the above? Who cares? I was off on Thanksgiving Break. For the first two days I did absolutely nothing... and it was everything I thought it would be. I lounged around... slept late... trolled the internet for hours on end...

(Actual picture of me in my pajama pants)
... and of course, I did it all in my pajama pants. Those wonderful, wonderful inventions made out of soft flannel. Oh how I love my pajama pants. For roughly 50 hours straight, I wore my pj bottoms and a succession of my oft-neglected Metallica t-shirts. Oh glorious rapture!
In addition to loafing, I was able to finally rent some DVD's. I sat down one night and watched Ridley Scott's Kingdom of Heaven. It was very good! The storyline was interesting, the acting well done, and the production values were top-notch. It tells the tale of a village blacksmith who finds out he's the illegitimate son of an aristrocratic crusader. He follows him back to the Holy Land to become his successor and serve the king of Jersusalem. After the idealistic king dies, he in turn is succeeded by a zealous prince who sparks another war with the surrounding Muslim armies led by the great general, Saladin. The blacksmith stays behind to guard Jerusalem after the princes armies go out and ultimately lose to Saladin in the desert. The blacksmith then leads in the defense of Jerusalem until he forces a truce with Saladin, saving the people who live in the city. The main critique I have for the movie is that it's slightly implausible to believe some of the characters in the movie, especially Orlando Bloom's character. He's supposed to be a simple village blacksmith from the Middle Ages... yet he speaks and thinks like a Philosophy and History Major from Berkeley College. If you just pretend that his character is actually a time-traveller from the 21st century, the whole story makes a lot more sense. He and some of the supporting characters, especially his father played by Liam Neeson, seem to look upon the Crusades with a tolerant view more akin to a 21st Century perspective, as opposed to a "God Wills It! Kill the Infidel!" mentality which I imagine was a whole lot more common back then. But all in all, a good movie. But when you watch it, try the timetraveller idea, it'll make more sense that way.

"Always be on your guard Anakin... I mean Bruce... I mean... Amsterdam. I mean... Orlando. Geeze, which character am I a father-figure to, now, in this movie?"
Wow Tom, thanks for inviting me to the football game this year!

And the football game was a great success. Yeah, everyone will be limping into work on Monday, but we all had a great time. True, and we took many a lump... but 'twas all in good fun! The Anonymously Evil All-Stars once again were victorious over the Rag-Tag Band of Misfits 6-3. However, it was a moral victory for the Misfits as they didn't need to borrow the All-Star's Brian "Pimpdaddy" Craine to score any points this year. Sadly, $teve and Hurricane Andrew couldn't participate due to untimely illness, but they were present in spirit. Later on, we were joined by Chris and Maggie, who provided pizza and burgers... and Bishop, Mikey G, Kruger, and Z organized some beer pong in the dungeon. Z, Kruger, and I exchanged engagement stories, and are now planning a support group for expectant grooms. And Bishop shared the beauty of a Coors Lite Mini-Keg with us all, in a heartwarming moment of holiday cheer... and beer. Mikey G Esquire just grinned the whole time... mainly because he just passed the bar exam, so more power to him!

And now, alas, I return to the trenches. This time I'll be learning about skin. For three weeks. I don't know how much one can know about skin... but I'm damned sure it's more than necessary. I'll be wrapping up on December 21st. I can't wait!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What was your favorite part of the Thanksgiving Break?"

PHEW!

2005-11-22T19:21:00.000-05:00

Well, that was a close one! I have now successfully completed Hematology and Immunology at NYCOM. Holy Kajoly. That was a ridiculous test. I don't know what else to say, aside from being incredibly relieved. I think the picture really encapsulates my emotions when I heard the good news.

And speaking of good news: Dad doesn't have cancer. Lymph Node Biopsy came back cleaner than a nun's diary. Booya! Many thanks to everyone for keeping him in their thoughts and prayers... and a big high five to the Man Upstairs for pulling some strings on our behalf. You rock, God.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Ever been really worried about something, only to get some great news?"

So I Was Raking the Lawn...

2005-11-18T22:41:00.000-05:00

Happy-go-lucky suburbia: we don't have to worry about too much in the neighborhood. No drive-bys, no street gangs, and only the occasional dog poo on the shoe. But there is one hazard that can befall any unsuspecting suburbian: the annoying, creepy neighbor. As many of you know, I have the unparalleled pleasure of living near, not one, but two creepy neighbors. Much like herpes, they don't come out much, and only bother you when you're trying to have fun. The only time they become visible is when you unwarily encroach on their turf... and then you reap their wrath.
In one corner, you'll find Old Man Weirdo. He sucks. He's a hermit, who's lived in that very same house his entire life. He never moved out, lived with his parents until he outlived them both (or so he'd have us believe). Some fun facts: He's convinced his mother's ghost haunts the house, so he sleeps in the garage. He uses grocery bags for socks. He mows the lawn in the middle of the night. And he absolutely hates it when you park in front of his house. Bear in mind, he doesn't own a car, but anyone parking in the street in front of his house absolutely riles him. You'll most likely earn yourself a hastily-scrawled note taped to your windshield, "NO PARKING ALLOWED!" If you're really lucky, and you're trying to bring your girlfriend home at 1AM, he might try to rush out of his house and confront you. And the best way to react is pretend you don't see him hobbling towards you, waving his arms, and just drive away and sob silently while your girlfriend screams and screams and screams... (not, that that has ever happened to me.)

This brings us to our second creepy neighbor. Also a shut-in, also lives in his parents' house, you might think he's Old Man Weirdo's trainee. Which might be the case. Maybe some day, when I'm bringing my family back to Bellerose for Thanksgiving, he'll be the new Old Man Weirdo. But as far as I know, the two goofballs remain entirely autonomous, and suck the happiness of our little corner of the neighborhood, completely independently. But I'll dub this jerk, The Junkie Kid. He's real skinny, has a child molester mustache, seems to hold no job, and is in his mid-40's... probably. I don't know for sure if he does drugs... but it'd be a good excuse for his station in life. I did happen to glimpse him staggering out of a taxi cab one night, most likely coming back from a local, white trash bar. For some reason, he also has beef with whoever parks in front of his house. You'll get the note treatment, or he'll even venture outdoors during the daylight and confront you with some transparent reason ("Uhh, you see, I'm expecting company...") The fact remains that his house is on a corner, and thus has plenty of parking space for his imminently arriving imaginary friends.

Why did I write about these dipshits? Because I got to talk to the Junkie Kid today. Since my Dad came out of surgery last week, he's been under strict orders not to exert himself (and boy, is he milking that one! The guy got about 8 years of mileage over his heart attack back in '94) Anyway, he needed some help with the leaves, so I happily volunteered. Amongst our garage arsenal is a combination leaf blower/leaf chopper with an extension cord. So after sequestering all the leaves in a longish pile in front of our house, I switched attachments and started sucking them up. This can be a lengthy job because a) wet leaves can get stuck in the pipe and need to be cleared out, and b) the bag attachment can only hold so much leaf crumbs, thus necessitating multiple trips to behind the garage where we keep our combination compost pile/rodent hotel. Between trips 3 and 4 (I had to empty the bag 7 times in total) I noticed a landscaping contracter truck roll up to Junkie Kid's house. Three leafblowers came out and made short work of his leaves. They then sucked up the leaves with an industrial sucker/chopper and were gone in about 30 minutes. My first thought was that it was pretty shitty of Junkie Kid to hire a contractor when his next-door neighbor actually did part-time landscaping himself. (On a complete side note, that guy's son was one of my best friends in grade school and junior high... incidentally, he's now a tattoo artist and licensed skin piercer, just for your information) Anyway, the second thing I thought was... the jackass is watching me walk back and forth with my lame little sucker, and is probably going to come over and give me some "neighborly advice," about landscape management. I visualized "accidentally" unpopping the leaf crumb bag when he came up behind me, shooting twigs, dust, and leaves in his face. But then I thought that'd be no good, because he'd probably sue me or something.

Well, sure enough, he did come by, and he did give me neighborly advice. I had to shake his hand, too. Then came the awkward, "idle chat" phase, where he asked about me and what I did. In fact, he seemed to have no clue that I actually lived at home. He thought I was home for Thanksgiving. I also think he might have thought I was my brother. (My brother who actually almost got into a fight with him a couple years back over, what else?, parking in front of his house.) But for whatever reason, he had absolutely no clue who I was. I was civil, but I kept my answers short and didn't add to the conversation. I sort of gave him my, "I have no interest in interacting with you in any way, but I'll retain my dignity" expression. Eventually he shambled off, back to his parents' house. Probably had some game shows to watch, or Victoria Secrets catalogues to ogle.

I know I was going to stay mum until after the exam... but I couldn't resist!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Ever have some truly unpleasant person that you had to tolerate?"

Going to the Mattresses

2005-11-14T21:15:00.000-05:00

I'm going back into isolation as I enter my last week of study for NYCOM's Hematology-Immunology section. By this time, next week, I'll be happily finished with my second med school exam, and enjoying a well-earned Thanksgiving break.

Some of you may be wondering, "Is Tom going to write one of these, 'Oh My God, I'm so stressed about my test' blogs every freakin' time he has one?" And the answer is... "probably."

So, in less than 7 days from now, I'll be, hopefully, happily inebriated and blogging. That may sound horribly lame, but from where I'm sitting right now... I can't wait!

Lines Writ at Med School, Pt. 4

2005-11-08T15:05:00.000-05:00

So... have you heard the news?

Yep, I'm getting married.

Don't believe me? I have another blog to prove it. Check out Wedded Blitz!
The wedding blog will be a bit more tame, if only because it's an important subject, and shouldn't be treated irreverently. Plus, I anticipate that my in-laws see it somehow. And being a little more straight-laced for a wedding blog is a small price to pay to avoid awkward Thanksgivings in the future.

But I'm okay with that. I'll just get the rest of my sarcasm (such as it is) out on this blog. It all works out rather nicely. Somehow, beer pong tables will not appear on the other one.

In other, non-matrimonial news, K-Rock, 92.3, WXRK New York, will be changing their format, once again. This is a big shame, primarily because I like getting to hear Metallica, Van Halen, Guns N Roses, Rage Against the Machine, and Alice In Chains all within the same hour. I also like not having to listen to Sum 41. I appreciate that. It's the little things in life that make the difference.

But, alas, their new "Great Rock. Period." format will be changing after the new year to "K-Rock Free FM." Which is pretty freakin' weak... and for several reasons.

1) I liked their current format. Simply put, it's got good music. I found it to be pretty sweet just to have K-Rock play some good music finally, as penance for indirectly ruining the best radio station ever, Q104.3, "Pure Rock," back in the mid-90's.

A typical night on Q104.3 would feature Pantera, White Zombie, Type O Negative, NIN, Nirvana, Sevendust, and Mandatory Metallica every weekday night at 9PM. It was a perfect radio station format... until K-Rock back then decided to switch from a "classic rock" format to an "alternative rock" format. Since Howard Stern was on K-Rock, the powers-that-be over at Q104.3 assumed that they would lose their whole audience to K-Rock, since they'd then sound similarly... although K-Rock's format would never play as good music as Q104.3's... but hindsight is 20-20. Bottom line: Q104.3 got nervous, so they changed their format to "classic rock" to stay distinct from K-Rock, and thus one day I realized I was listening to Elton John's "Crocodile Rock," when I expected to hear Powerman 5000. (incidentally, I realized this on the same exact road as when I heard on the radio several years later that Jason Newsted announced he had left Metallica... that is one unlucky patch of asphalt!)

And then, after playing absolute garbage the last couple of years (ie: the state of popular rock today) K-Rock decided to jump on the "It's cool to be into Led Zeppelin and Ozzy, now" bandwagon (don't believe me, just peek in a Hot Topic at the mall) and started playing hair rock, grunge rock, and some selected heavy metal. These days, you take what you can get, so I put away my cd's and I enjoyed the new format.

So now, with Howard Stern leaving K-Rock, due to increasing FCC pressure and absurd "indecency" regulations, and moving to Sirius satellite radio, K-Rock will be once again changing their format to all-talk. There are many of you out there that liked 102.7 back when they were all-talk, what with shows like Opie and Anthony and Ron and Fez. Personally, I didn't really like it all that much, I would rather listen to music.

2. This is a trasparent swipe at Howard Stern. They're calling the new format: "Free FM," as opposed to satellite, which you have to pay for. That's an awfully cheap shot, guys. Believe me, it really isn't a question of money. If you are really into Howard Stern, you'll get the satellite radio, and if not... you won't. I won't. I'll miss listening, but I was never a big fan of the show. People aren't going to be swayed on account of money. For me, listening to Howard isn't worth the effort of getting satellite. So basically, Free FM is just a gay, snarky little title for K-Rock, in order to "distinguish themselves from Howard Stern's satellite show. But it's not the money, it's the Stern that makes the distinction. Stern is in a class by himself, and there is no show that K-Rock has in the pipeline that will come anywhere in the same galaxy as Howard Stern's success. As one wise commentator said, " You don't want to be the guy who replaces Howard Stern... you'd much rather would be the guy who replaces the guy who replaced Howard Stern."

While on the subject, I think all the FCC regulation on radio is patently ridiculous. As long as Howard Stern doesn't use F, S, or C... what's the big hairy deal? Children are not exposed to Howard Stern because he's on in the morning, when kids are at school. Unassuming adults who wouldn't appreciate Howard Stern's show have the lovely option of immediately changing the station or turning off the radio. And what Howard Stern says is pretty tame compared to what kids can easily find on the internet after they get home. Let's be honest, here.

Whole Lotta Halloween Hootenannies

2005-10-20T23:55:00.000-04:00

I'll make up for such a lame title by including a crapload of pictures this time around. For the two or three people out there who check into this blog every-so-often, I apologize for the lateness in update. I wish I had a better reason, except that I had very little to say.

Every so often, a thought pops into my head, and I start forming a fetus of a blog entry in my noggin'. But what ends up happening is I ultimately realize it was a crappy idea to begin with, and I go all pro-choice on it. Sorry fetus article... it's my blog, and my choice.

Erm. Yeah. Well, all creepy analogies aside, I've had a couple of false-starts since my last article... But as I realized they all devolved into frighteningly conservative right-wing rants, I quickly remembered I had a sock drawer to arrange, and promptly forgot about blogging for the day. I've also forgotten what a run-on sentence is... and have most likely violated several grammatical rules... but I'm livin' on the wild side. It's my blog, baby. The rest of you are just visitin'!

The Second Annual Halloween Hootenanny, '02: The Geisha, the Samurai, Christopher Lowell in a Sailor Hat, the Male Stripper, the Knight and His Lady, The Wayne, and the Musketeer.

This will be the first year this millenium that I will not be holding the annual Halloween Hootenanny at La Casa de Crimmins. When it all started back in 2001, Ally and I had a conversation in which we lamented our post-collegiate status, and our resulting lack of Halloween-related activities for the holiday. Thus, we resolved to throw our own bash and invite all our wacky pals. A tradition was birthed. And my expense account at Spencer's Gifts started resembling a phone number. After all, my demented self never does anything half-way.

2005-10-20T23:54:00.000-04:00

Ach. Ben Lee of the Clan Lee... hailing from the Scottish Highlands of New Jersey. He's damn sexy!

And true to form, our above-mentioned wacky buddies took the proverbial ball and ran with it. Jumping into the idea with such gusto... at times it could be a bit frightening. We've had everything from a battered Cubs fan, to an undecided voter, to a blind referee, to a male stripper attend. And that's just Craine's costumes.

2005-10-20T23:53:00.000-04:00

The Demonic Duo: Ally and me in '03.

It was a lot of fun getting the house ready every year, putting out macabre candles, hanging black lights, and defrosting the corpses. I mean, "cupcakes." It's true about those reports that Americans have made Halloween the second most profitable holiday in this country. There is so much awesome, quality paraphrenalia out there. And when e-bay got involved... oh boy. Suddenly, desire of owning my very own cow skull could become a reality. That latex dessicating zombie prop was only a mouse-click away. It's truly the magic of the season.

2005-10-20T23:52:00.000-04:00

The Frightful Four of '04: The Software Pirate, the Lumberjack, the Vampire, and... an accountant with a Jets jersey? (Sorry, Esteban... you were a rapper or something, right?)

Lamentably, the fun was not meant to last at La Casa de Crimmins, as the demands of med school required that I end my streak at 4 consecutive years back in '04. In 2005, new partyplanners will carry the Halloween Torch for us all. I look forward to simply being the party attender this year. At least for Halloween...

...there's still Thanksgiving, Christmas, and this big affair I hope to throw this August! (I'll say no more)

2005-10-20T23:51:00.000-04:00

Ally and I proudly represent our chosen vocations in '04.

In thinking about Halloween, and in wandering the aisles of local Party City's... I've pondered some trends that have become increasingly hard to ignore. Like I mentioned before, Halloween has become a big money holiday these last couple of years. It's far-outstripped Easter and Valentine's Day... and has kicked the homely butt of Thanksgiving (poor Thanksgiving... there's hardly any merchandizing potential!). Costumes and accessories have become more and more elaborate, lavish, and especially expensive.

Now, for all you children born before '85... I want you to think back to those elementary school days, rushing home to put on your costume and start your scavenging for "fun size" Three Musketeers and Twix. (not that I ever found anything "fun" about those tiny little things... did you?) But growing up in the late '70's and early '80's, there was one common denominator when it came to Halloween costumes. Two words: Ben Cooper.

2005-10-20T23:50:00.000-04:00

... could also pass for the Jolly Green Giant with lockjaw.

You may not remember the name... but friend, you remember the costumes. They were everywhere. In every drugstore and supermarket, you had your vast selection of plastic smock and mask with rubberband combos, depicting everything from Mr. T to Mr. Kotter. Don't believe me? Check this out: Ben Cooper's Worst Costumes Ever

Back then, the faint smell of new plastic was as Halloweeny as picking the candy corns off those Entemanns cupcakes. Just a smock and crappy mask.

But today's child is a little more savvy. Today's child doesn't have much of an imagination anymore, and demands something a bit more sophisticated...

2005-10-20T23:49:00.000-04:00

New Hulk is EXTREME!!!!!

Ah yes. Today's child demands a full latex mask, padded muscle suit, full length pants and leggings, a personal trainer, and an interview with Ang Lee. Not included are green rubber fist gloves that make growling sounds when you hit things.

I once made a robot costume out of a cardboard box. Mom got me some gray sweat pants.

Okay, so that's one gripe. Or maybe it's sour grapes. These costumes nowadays... are pretty cool. In all truthfulness.

However, another trend seemed to becoming far to glaring to miss. While strolling down the costume aisle at the nearby Party City, I perused the wall that featured pictures of all the available costumes, divided into sections for infants, children, teens, and adults. Infants and Children were pretty standard. You had all your old standby's: vampire, policeman, witch, batman, George Bush...

...but when I got to "teens," and "adults," I was a bit surprised. I'm not a prude, but I couldn't help but notice the amount of flesh was involved in teen and adult costumes. In actuality, "teen," is probably a misnomer. By "teen," they probably mean "college teen." Because self-respecting teens I remember never wore costumes for Halloween. They just wore the requisite ratty sweatshirt and jeans, chasing each other around with shaving cream and eggs. They're the ones that rang the doorbell, after dark, during dinner... looking a little ashamed of themselves, covered in soapsuds, holding out their soggy pillow case, mumbling, "trickertreat." And by then you were pretty much out of candy, because you already ate the last fun-size twizzlers that your Mom always insists on buying... and then you have to grab a bouple of Mary Janes out of your little sister's pumpkin...

Hmm... that just got a bit autobiographical, there....

So, anyway... ladies costumes these days are getting a whole lot more risque. And I was hard-pressed not to find a single female costume at Party City that didn't start with, "sexy," "naughty," or "double-jointed."

For visual reference, I've conveniently provided some examples of what I found:

2005-10-20T23:48:00.000-04:00

Absolutely no subliminal suggestions here, right?

I somehow remember witches wearing green facepaint, and maybe even a fake nose. And for some reason, I don't think this'll be the costume Mom wears when she takes her kids out for trick or treating... unless she's taking them to Amsterdam.

2005-10-20T23:47:00.000-04:00

Another Halloween costume... another plunging neckline.

I'm starting to truly suspect that Halloween has somehow metamorphosed into National Foreplay Day. Seriously.

2005-10-20T23:40:00.000-04:00

Surely they couldn't make lady's devil costume look provacative... could they?

Outside of strip clubs and a particularly seedy theme party in Cancun, I can't imagine where some of these get-ups would be worn...

2005-10-20T23:01:00.000-04:00

Oh, Comon'! There's no way anyone could seriously fight a fire wearing that! And that helmet certainly isn't up to code!

Well... anyway. I just thought I'd share my observation with you all. Feel free to debate with me the finer points of my argument... I wonder what would happen if they sexed up other holidays... like Easter... imagine, a "sexy bunny costume"! As if I'd ever live to see that!

Have a happy and safe Halloween everyone! Try to avoid those razor blades in the apples... that we've all been on the lookout for since we were all kids!

The above pictures were exhaustively sought for on several search engines. But, I don't want any credit. The two hours of intensive research was merely for your benefit.

Feedback Question of the Holiday:
"What's the best Halloween costume you've ever seen? The worst? Send me a picture of it, and I'll put it on the blog. Do you have any good Halloween stories or anecdotes? Any comments at all...?"

Lines Writ at Med School, Pt. 3

2005-10-11T09:21:00.000-04:00

Here I am in class, listening to Fran Drescher half-heartedly describe the lymphatic system.

She lectured a little bit during the last class... but sort of as a sub. I'm not quite sure if that's her capacity, again, today. But she's certainly doing a lackluster job of it... much like the Yankees pitching staff. A woman this miserable must cry herself to sleep every night.

Okay, I'm a little down.

I spent the last four days being all happy and irresponsible... basking in a very pleasant post-test afterglow. Oh yeah, I should mention I passed my first test. To be honest, I wanted to make it a whole lot funnier and interesting, with hilarious googled-pictures and double entendres and veiled references to the Simpsons... but, I'm tired. Because it's pre-noon, it's crappy out, and I'm back in class.

The nice thing about my school is that they only teach one class at a time. Instead of half a dozen classes, and thus, half a dozen requisite exams, my school lumps all various disclipines, ie: pathology (looking at sick cells), histology (cell structure), microbiology (yet more things that are small), gross anatomy (just for a change, things that are not small), and biochemistry (what and how things work that are very small), and focuses on one body system at a time. So, my first test, which was on everything taught during the first 5 weeks of school, was "Fundamentals of Osteopathic Medicine," which gave a broad spectrum of topics from pharmacology, to bacterial taxonomy, to calculating pH. Now, we're learning about blood and the immune system.

But the nice thing is, now that I've passed my first exam, we start over, with a clean slate. I like that.

Oh yeah, but the Yankees lost. Which is disappointing. And I'll forego any more crowing about baseball, in deference to frustrated Mets fans... and fans of the team that shall not be named who got swept by the White Sox.

Sorry.

Tommy's Gone Bye-Bye

2005-10-03T15:30:00.000-04:00

I think I'm taking the pressure of my first medical school test in stride! Right?

Okay, so I'm a little nervous.

Quite trepidated, actually. I have a lot riding on this first test, but I'm giving myself plenty of time to prepare, so I want to leave this blog entry as a "seeya later" message until I make it to the other side... Friday night. If it's Friday and the PM, then I'm good to go. Until then...

Sheesh.

I've already planned ahead, envisioning what my weekend should consist of. Feel free to include yourself in my festivities... if you want to wander over on Friday night or Saturday, I'd be happy to see you...

... but as you're about to see, I'm gonna be REALLY happy this weekend.

And my liver will be my red-headed step-child.

2005-10-03T15:29:00.000-04:00

A couple of hours with my man, Zavros will turn all my frowns upside down!

Step 1: Friday, Estimated Time of Arrival (ETA) 12 noon. Bar. Any bar. The nearest bar. There are actually two places I imagine I'll head off to. Either Sullivan's Quay on Port Washington Blvd... or The Ground Round on Northern Blvd. A little ghetto? I don't think so. Have you ever had their buffalo chicken sandwich? Pure awesomeness. My brain will still be raw from my racking it for the last two hours... but I'll be relieved because I can finally blow off some steam.

Let the weekend begin!

2005-10-03T15:28:00.000-04:00

Blake was going to regret that fifth Rob Roy... Oh Jiminy Crackers!

Yeah... so, I imagine after my pre-emptive liver strike, I'll most likely join some of my fellow med students to whereever they pre-arranged a blowout. I hope this happens... at least for the fact that I might finally be able to socialize with these weirdos. Put a couple of drinks in 'em... and they can almost pass for human. Who knows where, when, or how long this will be.

2005-10-03T15:27:00.000-04:00

I got a fever... and the only prescription... is more cowbell. And Domino's.

Step 2: Friday, ETA 10 PM. Home. I quite deservedly will kick back with my favorite indulgence... a medium pie of Domino's with extra tomato sauce. I know, I'm weird. I'll have a couple more suds to complement the feast. And for entertainment...

2005-10-03T15:26:00.000-04:00

Hat's off to drunk Tom... he just passed his first med school test!

Gladiator. Pizza, beer, and Gladiator. Exactly what I will want this Friday night. Like I said, feel free to drop by for the carnage. I'm most likely going to pass out on the couch. So if Al announces that he's gonna drop by, I'll make sure to remove all magic markers from the area beforehand.

2005-10-03T15:25:00.000-04:00

Serenity: Karate Fights and Space Ships. Okay, super.

Why not? Go see Serenity Saturday. Might as well. Otherwise, after I wake up with a debilitating hangover, I might be tempted to do some scrapbooking, or something. So, seeing Serenity might be a good alternative... y'know? As far as I know, it involves lasers and kung-fu fighting. Which is about all the plot I think I'd be able to handle this weekend. And as for dinner Saturday night?

2005-10-03T15:23:00.000-04:00

Was there really any doubt? Damn it, I deserve a meal at Hooters with my buddies for all the crap I've been through. So there. Seriously, I'd love for all of you guys to join me this Saturday for some awesome wings and some more beers. And I'd like somebody to give me a ride. Please?

2005-10-03T15:16:00.000-04:00

Something wrong about this... somehow...

And Sunday. Is Ally's day. I've saved the best for last. Drunken revelry, hot wings, and Russell Crowe simply do not compare.

Amen, brother.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What's your favorite way to blow off stress?"

Let's Go, Yanks!

2005-10-01T19:15:00.000-04:00

Somehow... despite a frustrating season, the Yankees came back, with some true grit, to end up as kings of the AL-East mountain. It's been a wild ride, but they've done a complete turn-around since the All-Star break... battling back from the basement of the American League.

Of course, nobody can really talk about the "heroic season" of the Yankees with a straight face. Ever. Of course not... not the Evil Empire, not the Swollen Payroll... not those Damn Yankees.

Yeah, the Yanks have money. And the Yanks have history. But why punish them? What did they do wrong? Did they somehow steal money from the Kansas City Royals... or rob the Detroit Tigers' grandmas' life savings? Are they the bad guys because they've been so successful? If the Yankees were a store, they'd be Starbucks... or even perhaps, Wal-Mart.

Pretty much everyone outside of New York hates the Yankees. Understandably. Their dominance over the sport has extended over the last century... with a whole lot of guys in pinstripes immortalized in Cooperstown. They have the money and prestige to attract the best players. They have an owner who's notorious for his over-the-top expectations for his team. And they represent a city that, at large, isn't exactly known for it's humility.

But is it really deserving of "hate"? Derek Jeter doesn't sell crack to school kids. Mariano Rivera doesn't engage in white slavery. Jorge Posada doesn't sell child pornography.... anymore. I think, then, more accurately, everyone ENVIES the Yankees.

And "number one" on the list of Yankee Enviers, is the Red Sox fan.

Bunch of scumbags.

2005-10-01T19:10:00.000-04:00

Above, the typical victory prance for the Boston Red Sox.

Now, I truly despise Red Sox fans. Well, let me clarify. I absolutely, vehemently, and thoroughly abhor the boorish, obnoxious Red Sox Fan. Not the guy from Newport, Rhode Island, or the boy from Bangor, Maine, who "root" for the Red Sox. That's fine. Good for them. It doesn't surprise me that they root for the Sox.

What I can't stand, are the
juvenile,
rabid,
"Yankees Suck"-chanting,
exaggerated Southie-accent-having,
wicked ah-some,
pa-hk the cah',
glass of wah-tah',
going to Yankees games with Red Sox gear on,
cowboy-upping,
meathead,
Red Sox Fans.

I can't stand them.

I also can't stand several of their players. Varitek, Nixon, and the ever-mewling Schilling... that loudmouth a-hole. These guys have zero class. Always talking trash... always taking shots at the Yankees. Truly, the Bruce Dickinsons of the baseball world.

Then there are Red Sox guys that I have to give grudging respect for: Ramirez, Ortiz, and Damon. These can be listed under the category of "Guys I wish Played for the Yankees." These are men that are simply excellent players and fairly decent human beings, to boot.

Thus, the "Red Sox," that I hate, are not neccessarily a team or a fanbase, so much as a specific attitude. This, "holier-than-thou, Yanks suck no matter what, Boston rules" attitude.

2005-10-01T19:05:00.000-04:00

Big Pimpin' with Jorge, Derek, and Jason. That's how we roll in NYC (although I think this picture is from Baltimore).

You can criticize the Yankees for having a tremendous budget. But that's it. These are hardly the Ivan Dragos from Rocky IV. Steinbrenner spends a lot of his money to make his team as good as possible. From a business standpoint, it's really an unassailable strategy: Invest the money, to pay for the best possible team, to win games, to sell the brand, to attract the fans. What, is it somehow more noble to suck? This is America, bitches. God, I love capitalism.

The reason the Yankees have been so successful is because they've paid the get the best players, they've invested in a well-organized farm system, and they've cultivated an atmosphere of excellence. The Yankees owners bought out Babe Ruth from the Red Sox because the Sox owner wanted more money to finance his theater production of "No No Nanette." So, basically, what we have is a matter of divided goals. Because the then-struggling Yankee organization wanted to win ball games, and because the then-successful Red Sox organization wanted to put on a play, the Yankees began their dynasty of dominance.

And so, to this day, the Yankee organization has perpetuated this, through financial investment, and attention to history. And today, the Yankees are primarily staffed with clean-cut, soft spoken athletes. They do not engage in trash talk, they don't wear goatees, and they don't appear on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (three things the Red Sox are extremely guilty of). And last I heard, the Sox have the second-highest payroll in the major leagues... so they're hardly winning these days because they're pure of heart, or something.

But of course, these days, it's far more cool to be the rebel than to be the establishment. Better to be a die-hard Red Sox fan than a Yankees front-runner. But believe me, if there's a bandwagon these days... it's not in the Bronx.

Basically, I don't care if the Yankees win the World Series this year. (Well, honestly, I'd love it if they did. I'm determined to go to the parade this year, come hell or high water.) All I care about is that the Red Sox don't win.

Just so they'll shut the hell up until Spring.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Who are the biggest, and most annoying, sore losers you can think of?"

PS: I will never, and I mean NEVER, watch Fever Pitch. Ever. Jimmy Fallon is dead to me.

Consternation

2005-09-27T19:00:00.000-04:00

It's just been one of those weeks.

I'm a pretty patient guy, but even I have my limits. I had a recent run-in with various members of the NYCOM administration, and I wasn't exactly pleased. The first, and far more serious, was last Monday, when I was called out during the middle of lecture,

"Will Thomas Crimmins please meet me in the back of the auditorium?"

I thought my ears were tricking me. Why on earth would anyone need to speak to me? Well, okay... I stood up and waved to the woman, like a dummy. I had no idea what this was about. But needless to say, I don't like being called upon like that. It's never to announce anything good.

I walk to the back, where there are like, 3 other administration types waiting for me, giving me disapproving looks, like I was caught dressing up the cadavers in hilarious outfits and taking pictures with them. The expressions were not unlike something a young child would get from the principal in elementary school.

I'm 26. I'm not liking this one bit.

The woman who had called my name starts going, "Thomas, Thomas, Thomas... you did a very bad thing."

ME (in my mind) "What the hell is this all about?"
And my facial expression is most likely revealing my utter incomprehension of the situation.

SHE "When the dean e-mails you to come to her office, you better go!"

ME (in my mind) "Buh?"
ME (out loud) "I'm sorry, I didn't get any e-mail."

To which, one of the other administrative-types goes, "We've been e-mailing you several times about this matter, and you never responded. Now you have to speak to the dean." And that last sentence she sorta said triumphantly... like, "Now you're gonna get it!"

To make a dumb story shorter, I'll explain. I had apparently never given in my meningitis inoculation form. They had apparently e-mailed me to correct this matter. Since I had not responded, my lack of reply would be considered reason to drop me from the program.

"DROP ME FROM THE PROGRAM."

Just in case you didn't catch that. They were going to dismiss me from school, because of this. Now, I acknowledge that I didn't check my e-mail since the middle of the last week. It turned out that they had e-mailed me twice on the preceding Friday. Now, it was Monday. And they were going to expel me.

WTF?!

The only thing I did wrong was not check my e-mail for one weekend.

Shame on me.

So now, the administration-types inform me, I have to plead my case to the dean. And I go. And it's fine. But I'm mainly embarrassed. Also, I picked that day, of all days, to wear my Homer Simpson, "Procrastination" shirt. Quite appropriate for a meeting with the dean.

My annoyance about the whole thing, though, is that my being dismissed from medical school. Something that took more blood, sweat, and tears (and crippling loans) to get into, I was going to lose because I didn't catch an e-mail sent two days before. Yes, I admit that I should have checked my e-mail every day. And believe me, I do now. However, wouldn't you think that such a serious matter would have warranted... oh, I don't know... a phonecall, maybe? Pretty freakin' lazy, if you ask me. And while I'm on the subject, I distinctly remember them collecting the meningitis forms and health forms during the orientation in August. I had my meningitis form. I came up to the lady (ironically, the very same lady that called me out of my class) and asked her if she needed it.

And she said, "no."

It's bunk, I say. Bunk.

2005-09-27T18:59:00.000-04:00

The hilarious scene from Monty Python's Meaning of Life was actually based on a real incident at Carmine's in Manhattan.

This past Sunday, I joined Al, Michelle, Louie, Erin, Brian, and Ben to celebrate Mark's new job. Which, of course, was a perfect excuse to eat, drink, and make merry at Carmine's, a "family-style" Italian restaurant right in Times Square. An eatery with portions so large, that it has been known to bring low the most gluttonous pro-football lineman, or even sumo wrestler. And, indeed, the food is good, too.

The experience did not disappoint. We were treated to heaping platters of fried calamari, penne ala vodka, chicken parm (natch), and some bowl that clearly held the unholy coupling of Olive Garden and Red Lobster. Along with 4 bottles of wine, liberally shared between 6 of our party... we ventured into unknown territory... "the dessert menu."

"What is The Titanic?"

That was the question, when we saw the bold words etched across the menu. For $22.50, we had no idea what sort of concoction would be unleashed upon us. Somehow, between the nine of us, we consumed the delicious pile of wonderful. The titanic turned out to be vanilla ice cream, chocolate cake, chocolate syrup, thoroughly covered in whipped cream, and garlanded with bananas and strawberries. It was supposed to come with nuts... but my friends graciously deferred to my allergies and requested the Titanic, "sans nuts."

Congratulations, Mark. We're all proud of you!
(And if I ever manage to get these pictures off my cell phone, I'll be happy to post them here.)

2005-09-27T18:52:00.000-04:00

Gremlins: Apparently, my frequent houseguests...

I'm convinced, we got gremlins.

Aside from being hysterically homicidal critters and an excuse to see Phoebe Cates in a movie, gremlins have been traditionally known to cause mechanical and electrical problems by World War II airmen. In latter years, many of these problems were proven to be caused by windshear, condensation, and Communists. But many airmen still hold to the old beliefs.

Well, I think we have them, now.

Back in mid-August, all but one of the house's VCR's up and died. At the same time. Quite mysterious. My dad found it amusingly weird. I just found it annoying, mainly because my copy of Bill Cosby: Himself, is still stuck in my VCR. But I digress...

...it was gremlins.

How else could such a thing happen? What are the odds of three separate VCRs giving up the ghost at the same time? Not too good, I imagine.

Now, fast forward to last week, the internet goes down at the same time as my family's dishwasher commits seppuku. What the heck is going on, here?

Needless to say, I've got to enlist the aid of the weird old Asian guy that runs the creepy curio shop on the edge of town. He shakes his cane at me and curses in Cantonese whenever I come by. But what are you gonna do?

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Ever experience a weird happening? Either at home or away? See something strange? Mechanical weirdness? Alien abduction? 7 chicken McNuggets in a 6 order?"

Lines Writ at Med School, Pt 2: Greek Santa

2005-09-21T09:58:00.000-04:00

Twas the night before Wednesday, when all through the homestead
Only Tom was still stirring, although quite exhausted.
His assignments were studied for hours with care,
In hopes that Friday soon would be there.

Normal people were all nestled, snug in their beds,
While visions of Kelly Monaco danced in their heads.
And good ol' Dad dozed in his old lazy boy,
After watching the Yankees win again with great joy.

When back on the deck there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and whipped out my gat.

All that I saw was our newly-built stoop
Built by a swarthy fellow often reeking of poop.
And just when I thought that I had gone spastic,
I glimpsed a tall stack of cd's, all tied up in plastic.

Who left this for me? Who on earth would do this?
Then I figured it was Louie Mavroudis.
Swung in from Viacom, in the dead of the night,
He burned me a whole bunch of music, then went home for a bite.

"Of Misfits! Mastodon! Judas Priest and Pitch Shifter!
Seether, Avenged Sevenfold, and even some Slayer!
From the depths of the '80s to contemporary metal,
He gave me a collection, on nothing less would he settle.

As the Scorpions rock you like a wild hurricane fly,
Or as Hetfield encourages you, to take a look to the sky.
So up to the casa the van it did flew,
With the bag full of Rock, and Louie Mavs, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I smelled on my deck,
The tell-tale aroma of his usual cigarette.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney good ol' Louie came with a bound.

He was dressed all in leather from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bunched up denim jacket, was now practically black.
Covered in dust, he tried to breathe with a hack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples not at all saggy!
My description of him, I'm decidedly faggy!
His big goofy grin, he viewed all the rubble,
And the goatee on his chin, made all of stubble.

The butt of a ciggy he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
Oh wait, that's me... in the mirror I'd looked,
I really shouldn't have eaten all that pasta I'd cooked..

I asked him why he came through the chimney like that,
So scared I was, in my pants almost shat.
But he then stuck his finger inside of his nose,
Flicked me a booger, which fell on my toes!

He ran out to his van, to my neighbors gave the finger,
And the Greek disappeared like the Guns'n'Roses singer.
Before he was gone, I thought I heard him say,"
"Rock-on, motherfucker! I'll see you Sunday!"

Lines Writ at Med School, Part 1

2005-09-19T12:04:00.000-04:00

Hey guys,
I realized that I'm probably only going to be able to do one of my typical mammoth entries once a week, usually on a Friday or something... but there's a lot of random junk that pops up every now and then, that I want to share, but I don't wait until Friday... so there'll be another recurring feature on this blog:

"Lines Writ at Med School"

And basically, it'll just be shorter blog entries written while at med school. Yeah, I know, not very creative. But I pretty much can't wait a whole week sometimes...

Like today I had OMM lab. OMM stands for Osteopathic Manipulative Medicine. Basically, we utilize a lot of psychology, emotionally manipulating unsuspecting people... lying and backstabbing, learning to play others like puppets. No, actually, OMM is for physical manipulation: examinations that involve touching people. Yeah, you may snicker and laugh now... but when you pinch a nerve or wrench your back someday, you'll know who to come to. This is one aspect that DO's have over MD's... we're trained to identify problems in posture and muscle and bone structure based on sight and touch and range of motion. And we're also trained to fix the problems using touch and other manipulative procedures.

One catch: guys take their shirts off. You may be thinking, "what kind of school is this, anyway?" But, we examine each other first... it's the only way to learn. So let's just say, I have a brand new motivation for jogging every day.

And maybe waxing my back.

Yuck.

What's Next? What's Next?

2005-09-16T14:40:00.000-04:00

High above Coldspring, Tom ingeniously puts together three of his favorite things: Hiking, patriotism, and pole dancing!

Three weeks in, and I'm still standing.

Some pieces of wisdom I've grown to understand and acknowledge about medical school...

"There are no shortcuts." Oh yes. These two years are nearly entirely book learning. Classic lecture and written exam-based study. One thing I've realized since starting this is that science is very black-and-white. There's very little in the way of interpretation on exams, either you're right or you're wrong. Back in the day, when I was still in my elementary education program, I pretty much just had to be charming and entertaining when I did my presentation... even if I only spent two hours the night before throwing it together, to get an A. Medical school and it's ilk doesn't necessarily reward the smartest, but the most tenacious and dedicated. This truth I am completely reminded of. So I spend each evening poring over textbooks and photocopied notes trying to absorb it all in. As Jim Grant once so eloquently put it, "... it's like trying to drink from the firehose."

"Medical School is a lifestyle." Also very true, as I no longer see days split into "time at work," and "free time," now it's merely a seemingly never-ending schedule of study blocs. This science stuff messes with you, because you never quite feel you've gotten it all. You really are never "done" studying. Thankfully, after my first test (October 7th) I'll have a weekend to just veg out... so party on the 8th, people!

2005-09-16T14:39:00.000-04:00

VEGANimosity. Just Another one of PETA's introspective and thought-provoking publications.

In those rare quiet moments in which I've tried to waste a little time trolling around the internet, I came across a couple of great little videos.

This first one is from Penn & Teller's Bullsh*t series. They devote each episode to investigating, debunking, and pretty much annihilating a particular belief or institution. Obviously, I'm not always on the same page with these guys, if they decide to do an episode on religion or something... but then again, sometimes they hit another topic right on the head, as far as I'm concerned. Here's a link to an episode where they take aim at PETA and their ilk.

The next time-waster is another guy who's got plenty to say about a whole lotta topics. I heard about him on the radio, apparently, he's a working class New Yawka who does his own cable-access show from Queens. The show? Drinking With Bob. He's also got a blog, which holds many of his random rants about very deserving targets. Enjoy. WHAT'S NEXT?

What's Next? I'll tell you what's next. He Man... singing alternative rock from the 1990's. Must be seen to be believed. Also, hysterical. Check this out here.

Here's a movie in which Sarah Silverman fills the void left by Dave Chappelle. You can barely tell the difference! I'm rich, beyotch!

Finally, here's a little video game about a gold-hungry ninja that very nearly resulted in me failing out of medical school. Be forewarned, it's addictive.

2005-09-16T14:37:00.001-04:00

Junk n' trunks: I've almost organized everything I want to sell at the Bellerose Village Flea Market.

September 17th will be the Annual Bellerose Village Flea Market. I'm going to once again try to get rid of all my old comic books, toys, video games and other assorted crap. Despite an earnest effort to save more money and clear out a lot of superfluous junk... it just seems to keep flowing back in. Spread the word and come on by. ...because I can really use the money.

I'm just glad I'll have a day tomorrow to just be outside and relaxing. Lately, I think I've been losing it. I've been sleeping at random times, getting moodier than usual... and I've been laughing like an idiot at strangest movies:

2005-09-16T14:36:00.000-04:00

Around the World in 80 Cliches

I thought this movie was so much fun. And I don't know why. I mean, obviously Jackie Chan is in it, which automatically elevates this movie to at least a B. But the uncomfortable English guy, and all the silly "George of the Jungle"-esque humor just had me rolling off my couch. I know this movie didn't do very well in the theatres, but it really was a cute little flick. Definitely a fun way to waste a couple of hours. But I think the next movie might indicate I'm starting to slowly lose my grip...

2005-09-16T14:35:00.000-04:00

Yeah, that's right. I saw 13 Going on 30. And I liked it. What can I say, I'm a sucker for romantic comedies. There, I said it. I even liked Maid In Manhattan.

Okay, I'll hand in my "man-card" when I'm done with this...

I wanted to see this in the theater when it came out (with Ally... of course) but she thought I wanted to see it for other reasons other than to laugh and cry like the wuss I truly am. She thought it was because of Jennifer Garner. Ha! Yeah, I saw Daredevil... but her tight, strappy black leather Elektra costume had nothing to do with me wanting to see this movie. But she didn't see it that way.

So, anyway, I finally saw it on cable yesterday, and I once again found myself falling off the couch laughing. And, I mean... it's not like Mr. Show or anything, you know? So what's the deal with my bizarre fits of laughter? But if you haven't thought I've lost it yet... then prepare for....

2005-09-16T14:34:00.000-04:00

"The Horror... the Horror..." and her twin sister, "Becky."

I saw White Chicks, guys.

And I laughed.

A lot.

What the heck is wrong with me?

Because if you weren't scared before... you should be now! I know I am.

"Are You European? Or Just Gay?"

2005-09-11T22:00:00.000-04:00

2005-09-11T21:59:00.000-04:00

Clearly, there is a gigantic difference between the European Flag and the Gay Pride Flag. Most notably, one represents a union of European nations... and the other one represents a particular sexual orientation. And one is a rainbow.

Oh boy... before any of my overseas readers or folks who subscribe to the alternative lifestyle start with the angry comments, let me assure you that this is neither a slam on Europeans nor people who are gay. Or even for gay Europeans.

No, this is all about a question that was voiced while at the beach the other day. Ally, Mike, and I went to South Hampton to enjoy a relaxing day at a secluded beach amongst the absurdly wealthy. Why? Why did we drive an hour an a half to rub sunscreened elbows with the dog-owning elite?

To be honest, I don't know. But that's what Ally and Mike wanted to do, so who was I to argue?

2005-09-11T21:57:00.000-04:00

50 Cent, Eat Your Heart Out. Amazing as it is, the gigantic gold crucifix, black speedo, and hairy chest combo just hasn't caught-on, this side of the Atlantic.

So, while sitting on my beach chair, my pale, fish-belly Irish skin brazenly exposed to sun, reading through my notes on DNA replication, I happened to notice three guys hanging out together on two towels. They were blonde, middle-aged white guys, and they were curled out on the sand dune... awfully close to each other. Do the math, 3 guys, 2 towels. Not a lot of personal space. So Ally and I exchanged furtive glances...

"Ally, what do you think? Gay?"

"Maybe..."

I quickly re-evaluated the scene: "Umm... maybe not. Y'know, they might just be European." And at one point, I actually did hear them speaking in German or a German accent. They fit the look. And European men don't have as many hang-ups about personal space as American men do.

Which brings me to the title of the article: "Are you European? ...or just gay?"

2005-09-11T21:56:00.000-04:00

Nothing odd here: Mikey, Sam, Steve, and Hippy John settle in for a restful night. Together.

Why would I assume three guys laying on two towels very close to each other were gay? And then I realized it had a lot to do with American mentality, and the concept of personal space. Heterosexual American guys... like space. If me and two of my buddies went to the beach for the day, we'd give ourselves at least three feet of sand boundary between the towels. We wouldn't line them up all flush against each other and spoon...

... but then Ally brought up a point, "Would heterosexual guys go to the beach together for the day, without women... at all?" Well, I know I wouldn't. But that's because I'm not a beach person. So it's hard to say. But I understood what she was meaning.

Which brought me to my next pondering: are guys allowed to do anything together in public without being construed as homosexual?

2005-09-11T21:55:00.000-04:00

Kerry and Edwards: Just two affectionate politicians...

Can straight guys hang out? Meaning, can straight guys go out together without the express intention of meeting women, ie: cruising bars and clubs? Can two guys go to a restaurant together for dinner? Go to a movie together? Go to a museum together? Have a picnic together? Without their sexuality being called into question?

Yeah. I know, it sounds weird. But it seems that there are preconceptions of what are traditional, "acceptable" male-bonding activities, and antiquing isn't one of them. Yes, you can go hiking in the woods, but, no, you can't take a walk in the park.

2005-09-11T21:54:00.000-04:00

Nowadays, in our enlightened times, young men can be affectionate without their sexuality put into question...

2005-09-11T21:49:00.000-04:00

... but then again...

So obviously, there are boundaries between what is accepted as straight, and what is assumed to be gay.

At this point, I'd like to make clear that I don't have anything against people who are gay. I respect them just as much as anyone else. I can understand if this article looks like I'm making fun of homosexual people. But this is not the case. I'm just trying to explore the idea of perception. How behavior is perceived by your typical American, and how people from other parts of the world don't necessarily subscribe to those particular boundaries.

More than anything else, I find it all really funny. I find it all amusing, that a group of men, just spending time with each other, doing some activity not traditionally pre-approved as "normal," are assumed to be gay. Mostly, I find my own perception, when I was looking at the European guys hanging out on the beach together, extremely funny, and even more embarassing.

2005-09-11T21:48:00.000-04:00

Fabulous clothes... big hugs... let the good times roll!

Such a strange society that we live in, a weird mish-mash of stubborn rebelliousness and puritanical conservatism.

Speaking of perspectives, if you haven't seen the 40-Year Old Virgin yet (and I highly recommend you do!) then you'd enjoy a recurring gag in which the characters say, "You know how I know you're gay?" Here's a link to a clip, it's an out-take, but some of them made it into the movie.

2005-09-11T21:26:00.000-04:00

In the end, the point I want to make is that we should all give our preconceptions and prejudices a good evaluation. We should examine all our societal and cultural guidelines about what constitutes sexual orientation and lifestyle.

Because they're pretty arbitrary.

When I worked at TGI Friday's, many in the staff assumed I was gay. When I asked on what evidence did they base their assumption, I was told "I didn't hit on any of the girls." Ah-ha! So obviously, I preferred men.

Or maybe I just had higher standards.

3 straight German dudes can share 2 towels on the beach. Italian guys always kiss each other in greeting. I'm a hugger. My Irish friends aren't. Athletes pat each other's butts. Who makes these weird-ass rules, anyway?

Odds and Ends

2005-09-06T20:00:00.000-04:00

Tom made his Christmas Wish-List as clear as possible.

Yo ho... and a bottle of rum. How ya doin' peoples? All sorts of things have been runnin' through the ol' noggin, and it's about time I put it all on blog.

2005-09-06T19:59:00.000-04:00

Mary has finally headed off to Siena College, and relinquished her stranglehold on the family computer... which is mainly why I was able to do this blog during the daytime. Hooray!

I've made it through my first honest-to-goodness week at med school. Y'know with lectures and assignments, and... stuff. I'm still getting a handle on all the teachers and their expectations for the year. But so far, so good.

Some interesting characters I have in my class. Most notably, some guy that looks an awful lot like Matt Stone of South Park fame.

2005-09-06T19:58:00.000-04:00

2005-09-06T19:57:00.000-04:00

(artist's depiction)

Except... he has a beard.

2005-09-06T19:56:00.000-04:00

This blog attracts the most interesting people!

Last time, on the blog, I received feedback from a guy named Dave. Just for the record, Dave rocks. Mainly, because the last blog entry was chiefly aimed at 11 specific people. And only this complete stranger left a comment for the whole following week. Weird, huh? Chris left a comment just recently... probably right after he left a comment for my illustrious fellow blogger, Mikey.

Last week's blog entry's lack of response puzzled me. I figured that it would elicit the most feedback ever. I couldn't have been more wrong. Who woulda thunk it that quasi-humorous wedding group shot photo analysis would equal web log toxicity?! Not me.

Ah well... I'm sure all the regulars, ie: Tio, Puppy Guy, and Dr. Love were all out shingling their roofs... or something. All week. Probably.

2005-09-06T19:55:00.000-04:00

Sahara + Domino's Pizza = 2 Hours Well-Spent!

I finally got to see Sahara this past weekend. So much fun. I've been excited about this flick for a while, as it's based on one of my absolutely most favorite book series ever: The Dirk Pitt adventures by Clive Cussler. Matt McConaughty and company did the story and characters proper service and put together a great adventure story. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly a blockbuster, but a sequel is still likely. I hope so.

So guys, if you want to sit down and watch a fun adventure movie, with some great characters, great dialogue, minimal CGI, and a fast-paced storyline... check out Sahara.

2005-09-06T19:54:00.000-04:00

Here I am, sizing up the table after sanding it down.

The Duff Stadium Saga

I would be remiss if I didn't pay proper respect to an art project that I devoted over a month to this past summer: the custom beer pong table that would eventually be dubbed, "Duff Stadium."

Chris and I picked up the wood at a local store. Strangely, it was a combination Pet Food and Lumber Yard. Which... I guess would be a convenient place to go if you needed a couple 2x4's and 50 pounds of kibbles and bits. I'm surprised no one ever thought of that combo before. Perhaps the store owner tried different concepts that only failed, and this is his most recent experiment. First he tried "Health Club and Aquarium Supply." A couple of years later, he went to started "Baby Gap and Tractors." Still later, the local "Bar and Grill and Fertilizer." And then he almost gave it all up after he failed at "Hooters and Religious Goods." But somehow, he held on, and his new venture is handling all the local lumber and pet food needs of the community!

2005-09-06T19:53:00.000-04:00

All the painting is nearly done... only the centerpiece remains!

After a day of inclement weather forced the project into my basement (where it would ultimately remain until it was finished), Chris and I moved into the painting phase. Several late nights and a whole lot of masking tape, and we got it juuuust right.

2005-09-06T19:52:00.000-04:00

Centerpiece: Completed!

And thus, after one long night of painting and masking taping... not to mention a whole lot of Cartoon Network, the Duff logo came out looking perfect! Only two steps left to go...

2005-09-06T19:51:00.000-04:00

We then add some character to the table.

Chris's most important contribution, other than making sure I woke up for all our meetings, was sizing and printing out all the Simpsons characters on high-quality photo paper. These circles would be used for placement of the party cups during the beer pong games. Mysteriously, everything was going perfectly according to plan!

2005-09-06T19:50:00.000-04:00

The shiny goodness of it all!

The last, and most important step of the beer pong table process was the water-proofing. Chris and I had debated on what would be the best way to protect the table. Many solutions were suggested, including painting on varnish and bolting on plexiglass. But ultimately, the right way to go was "liquid glass." Which was a resin coating used for bowling alleys and bar tops. It was a sticky job that claimed one of my favorite t-shirts and the tips of my running shoes... but the result was worth it. After drying for a week in the basement... Duff Stadium had a glossy, hardened, permanent, waterproof surface. I'm still amazed at how perfectly it came out. Eventually, the table was unveiled at SummerSlam '05 to great enthusiasm... and we had a great beer pong tournament that night!

Which Chris an I... most fittingly... won.

2005-09-06T19:49:00.001-04:00

Mike Myers: A Class Act

As you all must be aware, Hurricane Katrina ravaged the deep south recently, most notably in New Orleans, Louisiana. Much attention has been made about the disorganization and chaos that has defined this tragedy. A lot of angry and bewildered voices have been questioning the response and the effectiveness of the government's handling of the relief. It seems fairly obvious that government, on all levels, from local to national, were caught flat-footed on this one. But I won't turn this blog into an apologist for the Bush administration. Certainly there are plenty of politically-themed blogs around, from both sides of the spectrum, so I feel no need to share my views here. However, there are certain things I object to... Such as the behavior exhibited here:

Check this out.

2005-09-06T19:49:00.000-04:00

Kanye, "Holier Than Thou" West

You know... you're allowed to not like politicians. And you're granted the freedom of speech. But these days, it seems like freedom of speech is being interpreted as "mandate for assholery." Save your eloquently-formed opinions (the dufus can barely put a sentence together) for yourself and your blinged-out, Cristal-swilling cohorts, Kanye. You're on television to encourage people to help out their fellow Americans amidst a tragedy. Keep your absurd conspiracy theories and ignorant world view and your superficial, self-serving lifestyle to yourself.

Things like poise, courtesy, and maturity seem to be completely ignored today, as celebrities use their exposure to spout off on subjects they typically know very little about. Call me crazy, but I think someone who's job it is to run a government has a little more realistic appreciation for the state of the world than a minimally educated guy who rhymes things real good and popularized the return of the pink polo shirt.

Personally, I find it incredibly selfish and immature to ad-lib a political diatribe while you're supposed to be encouraging people to donate. Is Kanye helping the situation? I think not. If anything, he's probably pissing off people and perhaps convincing some to NOT donate. Save the soundbites for afterwards... after the people have been assisted.

I give Mike Myers a lot of credit for maintaining his professionalism and composure while the hack next to him rambles on and on incoherently. I'll say this: That was one time I can admit that a Canadian was far superior to the American.

And to all of you out there, please donate to the relief effort, if you haven't already.

March of the Penguins: A Photographic Analysis

2005-08-28T20:55:00.000-04:00

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!

2005-08-28T20:54:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-08-28T20:53:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-08-28T20:52:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-08-28T20:51:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-08-28T20:50:00.000-04:00

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.