Blue is my favorite color
I've got a new GQ work shirt. It's dead sexy. It just looks like 4 other shirts I own if you view it from more than 1.5 meters away.
So come closer.

Are you in the zone?
(insert pre-teen screams here)
Madonna and Britney Spears have a new song out!
When you combine those two together you get one of the hottest 64-year olds EVER.
You also get little else.

Thought bubbles in my comic strip
-I don't look as good in pictures as I used to.
-Winning isn't everything. Maybe I am just a glory-hungry, selfish Ultimate player.
- My feelings on the kind of book that Lamb: The Gospel according to Biff, Jesus' Childhood pal was best summed up by the author in the last section when he said that he certainly took some liberties with history to add to the story but for this book he felt it was a good thing to do because he really needed to answer the question, "What would Jesus have been like if he had known kung-fu?"
-I think there is a market for a Real Simple for men. Then again maybe that's just the metrosexual in me rearing its head.
-"You go girl" has lost a lot of its oomph.

My real life and my bloguniverse are on a collision course: An advertisment
Identical cousins is good for a laugh.
Just like therapy is good for all of you practicing psychiatrists.

When you read the title of this post please pronounce advertisment like it is spelled. I think that will add the sophistication that this post might otherwise lack.
Thank you for your cooperation.

And speaking of family...
AARP and I must be siblings because my parents are retired teachers and AARP's parent is retired teachers (NRTA). Not only that, but I too have the power to make it better. Then again, so do you. Maybe we're all one big family dodging furry twinkies in this zany little game called life.
Come on, let's have a big group hug

Beware of the Furry Twinkies
Talk about strange emails. My cousin Kelly, who likes to center her emails and use multiple colors anyway, just wrote me an email that involved at least three references to Furry Twinkies. Not just any Furry Twinkies either, these desserts were flying and quite dangerous, I assume by the number of times she told me to DUCK. This might seem especially odd to some people, but I think there is a little furry Twinkie in all my relatives.

Consider
There are over 500,000 people my age (25-34) in D.C. according to USA Today.
75% of men in D.C. are bisexual according to two girls in a bar.
Dancing may prevent the onset of Alzheimers' according to some study somewhere.
I am a better dancer by myself than with a partner according to Kim.

All of that together leads me to believe that I should be able to find someone (man or woman) my age to dance with in this town and if I do, it could make my later years more productive, but if I don't find anyone to dance with I'll dance better anyway.

Dear Silly Boy
Shut up and leave me alone.
You annoy me.

-Love

P.S. Please stop calling me late at night.

Dear Love,
I'm not looking for you. I'm looking for me.

-Silly boy

P.S. It's hard to admire you from afar if you sit so close.

I'm bloggin the suburbs
Things I have to say about New York and my experiences near:
-The city is huge. It's not like I'm coming from Idalia, Colorado here. I took the train from Washington D.C. New York makes D.C. feel down home.
-My Aunt and Uncle spoil me. The only times I ever have warm breakfasts are in this joint.
-Phantom of the Opera has too much opera. I realize this exposes my uncultured underbelly once and for all, but give me tap dancing anyday. I will grant the second act is superior to the first.
-Broadway shows are nifty. We should go to one.
-Kate Beckinsale in Serendipity- Yummy.
-I have got to get out. There are people all around and some of them look interesting.

Blog on.

Thanks Blogs
The wonderful world of blogs has lead me to my second reunion of real people --this one in the Big Apple. Anne and Paul took me to Scruffy McDuffy's and Doyles and the Staten Island Ferry last night. And it was blogs that kept me in touch. Because of this wacky technology I knew that neither had gone off the deep end. Good people change, grow up (Ladies- that Pauly not shore is 2nd only to Taye Diggs) but they stay good people.

Thanks AARP
For sending me to Jersey. It was not New Orleans. It was not Nashville. It's only redeeming quality was that the volunteers I help support are amazing.

I always knew I liked accents
Taking Clare and Aaron's advice I watched the British Coupling last night and the word I repeated most often was "DUMBFOUNDED" as in "I am dumbfounded". How could NBC screw up so much? Using virtually the same script (of course removing several of the funnier bits) NBC has taken a funny show and made it awkward, uncomfortable and dirty. Just like my new bed, except for the uncomfortable part. But man is it dirrty, me-OW.

There’s no place like home

Last Saturday I piled my stuff into a car and a half and moved it across town to my new place where with some assistance I managed to plop it into the room in under 20 minutes. 2 days and no furniture later my stuff still looks rather plopped. The Carriage House, as we like to call it, is taking shape quite nicely because Reuben owns everything you could ever need.



I’ve already managed to have two near-disasters resulting from our new appliances. Are toilets appliances? The toilet scare resulted from IHOP omelets and the lack of a plunger. It’s amazing what a stick from the yard can do. The second scare was caused by a brand new oven. It turns out that you should not cook or even preheat your instruction book. We checked the warm instruction book after peeling off the melted plastic and no where in the book does it say “Don’t cook me”. Still, I don’t recommend it. The house smelled funny for a while, but the PastaBake tasted fine.

Stay tuned for more adventures in bachelorhood.

No wonder I'm single
I sat through half an hour of NBC's new sitcom "Coupling" last night. I thought a good night's sleep might put things in perspective. Sleep just heightened my distaste. This show was bad. I think my roommate liked it (not Reuben, I move tomorrow). That frightens me. What if others felt the same way? What if they aren't already planning a mid-season replacement? The characters were so vapid. All of the marginally funny stuff was in the commercials. At least this way I can shut the TV off right after "Scrubs". I'll get my "Good Morning Miami" (I can't believe that show is back. I thought I was the only one that could stand to watch it) fix after the "Gilmore Girls" on Tuesday. I don't like "Will and Grace" anymore anyway. Looks like this TV season is shaping up to be another fine one.

I thought I was sick of TV. I guess not. I will be in December. Just wait.

The book of Lego
Wow. Even The Royer never did this with his little blocks. Although I have no doubt that he could've.

Doin' it Stuckeyville style
Yes, I was happy when Ed and Carol finally heard my chants of "Bowling Alley Sex" that began somewhere around the halfway point of the episode. No, I'm not happy that this show has to die. And no, clasped hands is not my favorite visual representation of sex. I don't know what is right now, but that's not it.

Stop being polite and start being jealous
The Real Worlders were snowboarding in Switzerland and I had to turn off the TV or else I was going to run into my room, grab my board and leave the country.

The question is,"Why not coffee?"
At Starbucks yesterday I decided that I could have a Vanilla Creme Flappychino. The tall $3 treat was like sipping Vanilla air with the occasional chunk. At least it was until I got to the whipped cream. Then it was like sipping air and fat through a straw. Which leads me back to my initial question.

You're not the boss of me now
My boss returned from 2 months of sick leave today. It was really great for at least 10 minutes. Mostly it was odd. She was asking me to do things that I was already doing and have been doing for about 2 months now. She was way out of the loop and I can barely remember how to fill her in. I really like her though. I'm glad she's back.

The Battle at Materialism Crossing
I'm moving next week and all my things are nearly boxed up. Everything I've been living with for more than a year can fit crammed inside a '92 Saturn. I want to throw half of it away, but I want to buy furniture too. Something has to give. Since I need a bed and I want the UltraLounge I'll probably keep the rest of the junk.

What Would Elvis Do?
Maybe I am all shook up. Uh-huh.

My dear sweet
Isabel, violent windy Isabel, thanks for sparing me. You did take out my cable, but that's only 'cause you love me.

Could it be?
I was just invited to a party via evite. The party isn't far from here, but I swear I have no idea who the host is. Am I a bad, forgetful friend? Am I out partying and blacking out? Do I lead a double life?

Stop with the lies
-I wish Michaella would stop changing her birth date.
-The most beautiful two days possibly ever and tomorrow it all gets blown away. How can it be?

For those of you that thought time was standing still
More reports of high school classmates getting married and having babies. Zany.
Me- I'm a happy 5th wheel, with a garter in my back pocket.

The storm, she iza comin'.

Oh no
Oh blargh is dead. Sad.

Oh yea
It's Kella's birthday. Happy birthday to her.

Ewww.
I painted "Just married" on the Smiths' cars. My thinking in choosing the red marker was red=hearts=love. After the marker/paint stuff ran it looked more like red=blood=psycho thriller.

Where can I find a theory like that?
It is my belief that "Stacy's mom" is the same woman as "Jesse's girl". It may seem odd, but I think that J's girl is all grown up now. She has a daughter and she is once again inspiring music. Quite a woman.
This is only conjecture at this point, though I am searching for evidence. I do not however see any reason to believe that Jesse is Stacy's dad. Even the romantic in me will not allow such whimsy.

so afraid that what I'll find might be what I deserve
I can't escape the pull of my television. I know there are things to do; things I want to do, but I just can't get it together. I'm like my new Zippo (registered trademark). I'm shiny and pretty on the outside and I get a spark or two, but there's no fuel-- man. I've got to get some fuel so the fire will burn, man. It's all about the fuel.

"So afraid that what you'll find, won't be what you deserve."
It's about that time of year again. School would've started if I was into that sort of thing. I'd be meeting new people and starting to crush so I'd be primed by the time my November "love cycle" was ready to roar in.
Instead there's no school, minimal new people. So, I start thinking about new jobs, new places, new stuff in general. Moving across town will calm me for a bit, but will it be enough for the winter? Perhaps if I couple that with some of those personal goals I can head into another year. One of those goals is to get out and experience more of DC- more museums, shows, big city life. They don't call me Big City for nothing. Nobody calls me Big City anymore. Then again, nobody knows why I got that nickname in the first place. So they do call me Big City for nothing. Or they did. That's not the point!

A moment to reflect
Two of my friends from high school are getting married (Justin Shaw and Nick Wills in case you're keeping tabs). Congrats to them. The engagement announcement mentions that they are both account executives at fairly large Ad/Pr Agencies in KC. In no way does the following statement intend to demean their achievements: Perhaps I did not fully exhaust the agency job market in KC or anywhere else for that matter.
I'm reflecting, are you?

That's the spirit
I just found out that the Ultimate team I joined last winter for a tourament in Edinboro, PA won the spirit award for that tournament. Nice guys do finish last, but get a reward months later. Way to go CUltimate! (I'm still amused that a Catholic School would name their team Cultimate and not see the irony.)

Post-vacation stress disorder
I know it's only been two days, but I'm really lonely since I got home from vacation. And really, how big of a complaint can that be when I put in a 12 hour night of sleep last night?
Amanda is doing her best from Holland to fix things and my lunches with Trang have been especially nice, but the Metro rides home and the actual being home have been less than stellar. Groceries might be the cure. Stay tuned.

Happy Birthday to my sister!

It's kinda ok to be back
Wisconsin treated me well. Families, even those that aren't mine and friends are quite nice. After a day to reflect here's what I know.
-I miss Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Freaky.
-Wind surfing is easy, as long as the wind changes directions on cue.
-The line between joke and truth can get blurry.
-Dancing rules. Especially: riding the pony and fake ballet.
-Skinny dipping may not be for every one, but I don't know why not.
-DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT be so stupid as to make negative comments about the fit of a bridesmaid's dress.
-You'd think I would have known this already.
-Eat at Al Johnson's. They have Swedish Pancakes to die for and goats on the roof.
-I love Margo and Rodger.
-Margo and Rodger drive me crazy.
-Karyn is hot.
-Even if you stand very very still sometimes you still have to catch the garter.
-The Gilmore Girls are crazy. Not the ones on TV. These girls are crazier.
-The Milky Way is a beautiful beautiful thing.
-So is Door County Wisconsin.
-So was the wedding. Beautiful. So much love.

I love the convenience of Barnes and Noble
I'm confused by the mating rituals of the homosexual male.
I worry about committing to a new lease.
I'm excited to have a home for the UltraLounge and matching naugahyde chairs.
I know you're jealous.

Ain't no cure
Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying my 9 day weekend. It just feels like it needs a jumpstart; which is funny because my car needs the same thing. I think what this weekend really needs is Wisconsin. So I'm going tomorrow. I've got to make like a groomsman. See the ol' college gang. Eat at a Fish Boil and if all goes well-- watermelon polo.

Haunting memories
Every time I work out, go for a run, etc. I end up feeling the way I did at Districts in the 2-mile so long ago. It feels like I need to reach inside and drag myself along by my intestines. Only now, there's nothing to fight for except "fitness". And I've always disliked fitness for fitness sake. It's time for a goal.

Superlatives be damned
Two of my best friends are getting married in 9 days. I don't know what to say on the card. I don't know what to say in a toast. I don't even know when to deliver the gift. You'd think I'd get this wedding thing down by now.

That Little Jimmy Dickens!
I went to the Grand Ol' Opry with Dori and two co-workers. The great thing about Tuesday night at the Opry is that it's a smorgasbord of country music. Before I could get too tired of any one performer they were replaced by another. Yee haw.

Jumbo Inflate Monkey meets funny hats
I think the fact that I live in a "hip, happening town" but went to Laurel, MD for a bachelor party tells you a lot about my friends and me. The title of this post probably tells you the rest. There was a monkey incident, but it got resolved. Don't be concerned.

I'm one of those people
I have bailed on an Ultimate tournament to take care of other stuff. You can call it a new low or a new high, but no matter what you call it- I have very mixed feelings on the issue.

the frog king a love story by adam davies
Is it good? you might ask me. And I would not know how to answer. Yes. It did make me squirm on the edge of passing out, but you could too if you knew what buttons to push. Sure it has left me feeling very empty and alone, feeling like this wasn't just "a love story" but rather just a few drunken tweaks from "my love story". Is that good? I don't know. Maybe it's time to face that every story doesn't have a happy ending. Surely you've already faced that. Surely. I have and stop calling me Shirley. Or at least I thought I had. I wanted to cry but I don't know how. It didn't make me cry; it just took me to the edge and left a little hole in what? my stomach? my heart? I don't know. Was it good? I guess so. Am I good? I don't know.

Oh yea?
Human touch is underrated.

Got Blech?
It's like my milk is flat or something. It's not sour, but it's still gross. I continue to have bad experiences with milk here. This is causing increasing levels of anxiety in my life.

I'm not afraid of Americans
If you want to read blogs from other countries be up at 5 AM. All those Aussies and Brits are posting about breakfast. WHY AM I UP?

Who is your Big Bad VooDoo Daddy?
At one point I had much anticipated the follow-up to the self-titled BBVDD album that propeled that swing craze (which will return, I swear.) That anticipation died down some 2.5 years ago. Four long years after that first album my favorite swingers have returned to Save my Soul.
Alas, this album is heavy on the VooDoo and light on the Big and Bad. It has a couple swell tunes in the middle “Simple Songs and “Next Week Sometime”, but those are mixed in with a number of tunes that sound a whole lot like the songs from 4 years ago. Perhaps BBVDD thought we’d forget ‘cause they’d been gone so long, but you don’t forget catchy songs like “Me and You and The Bottle Makes Three Tonight.”
Scotty Morris still makes me want to put on my fedora, drink my moonshine and find myself a flapper and Glen “The Kid” Marhevka still blows a mean trumpet, but if BBVDD swings through this town I’ll be there for the nostalgia and not the “zig zaggity woop woop.”

Ultimate. My drug of choice.
I've never been drunk, but a hangover has got to feel just like this.

Barbie and the flesh-eater
Any story that involves eating steak without utensils and a date with a Barbie model has to be good. And it was. Ask Rob's cousin the next time you see him.

Scott and his scoopability
Do topia apologizes to readers (my mom) who were uncomfortable with Scott and his scoopability. I would like to point out that there was a disclaimer.

The 2 Q's
1. Is it actually possible to forget that Rob D. is turning 25 this week?
2. What if the Hokey-pokey is really what it's all about?

flies with honey
If you say something nice to me I am better able to overlook all the yelling you did at me this weekend, maybe even consider the message in the yelling. Funny how compliments will do that.

The look
If I did scoop up Scott* because he meets the requirements, then we would move on to the next phase. In the next phase if I decided I liked Scott and I really wanted to connect with him I would look at him. It wouldn't be any look, it'd be that look that starts from the back of my head that tries to tie a cord between us emotionally, physically, maybe even spirtually. It's that look of longing, of possibility, of connectivity. The one that pierces his eyes and tries to draw him in.

That's the look to avoid.

*The scoopability of Scott and my desire or lack of desire to scoop Scott up is not the issue here. Please focus, people. He's the only volunteer I had.

By the numbers
7players starting our Savage 7 Tourney
5players left when we gave up
2knee injuries
3wins
1loss
200fluid ounces of liquid I consumed today
60minutes ago I should have gone to bed
.5jerks on the team
1.5times I nearly(?) lost my cool responding to Mr. Loudmouth
At least 2teammates who had played at Worlds
1guys named Boozer from Wyoming that I happened to know.
Severalthings I learned about myself: I'd rather lose and have fun than win and be shouted at; If I find a gal and get her to play Ultimate I hope I treat her better than the people I saw today. A great captain is a rare thing indeed. Every time I play with a new team I learn to appreciate Renny MacKay all over again.

I have the strange desire to scoop someone up. Anyone, really, someone smaller who smells nice would be best.

It bothers me
-that the next logical step after losing your virginity is a wedding. At the very least that makes American Pie2 a complete waste.
-that our leader is celebrating the death of two men and our news organizations are excited about tracking down their father.
-that cows had to die to make leather dividers for someone's presentation.
-that I ate two donuts at a meeting with the IRS.
-to spell doughnuts. Either way.

To be filed under "huh?"
*I tried to MASH and my connection went out. Now that's fate. Sorry Rob. Huh?
*Not two hours after my cubicle neighbor received flowers from her boyfriend she asked me to watch the movie we missed last week. Huh?
*BBQ SPAM is actually good cold and hot. Somehow the BBQ must soak up the disgusting SPAM pus. No verdict yet on SPAM&cheese. Huh?
*The licorice fish are coming. The licorice fish are coming. YES!

The Biscuit is good
The book has the details, but the movie captures the essence.

Somewhere along the line
it started to mean a little less. Is that good or is that bad?

On crushes
Thanks to Kristin for the much needed boost. I had a crush on her too. 'Course I had a crush on Justin as well. Is it a crush if it still lasts 2 years later?

And in other Justin news
Word on the street is that Justin Poirot, former FARCer, movie maker, and my neighbor for 2 years, is going to get married. Congrats to him.

It's like fight club
And not just because of the punches. It seems that the rule is don't mention the "date". All knowledge from the "date" is acceptable knowledge, but the actual "date" may not have even happened. Perhaps I dreamed the whole thing, like I dreamed my own suffocation last night- only more pleasant.

Film at 11
The boyfriend shoe dropped today and I feel like a super-schmuck. It's partly because I feel like maybe I should've seen it coming. I obviously thought last night was more of a date than it must have been. It's not such a big deal that it wasn't, really.

Still, I feel like a schmuck even more because of the way the elements of a "date" change me and my perceptions. I treated this girl differently because I thought I was on a date. I opened more doors, I picked up the check, I tried to impress her. I tried to make it more than it was because in my head it was a date. Why? Here's a sweet girl without many DC friends who wants to hang out and a part me isn't sure that's enough. The other part of me is kicking that part and saying, "Hey super-schmuck, friends rule. Why do you have to get so carried away?"
Yea. 2nd part. Yea.

The Postman doesn't ring
I had a date tonight. The first "first-as in I don't know you, you don't know me" date I've had in I'd say 6 years. Sweet girl, pretty smile. I'm a sucker for the smile. I work with her. We went out to dinner and were going to see "The Postman Always Rings Twice" out on the mall. The conversation was ok. She talked a lot about dogs and food. I listened. I chimed in where I could. I'm not a great conversationalist, but I listen. Everything was nice. Then a storm started brewing, but a migraine headache sent us packing first. So we left as the movie began. She said it wasn't the company and I believe her. Even if it wasn't true, I have to believe her.

Public Transportation throws a whole new wrinkle into dating. Where is the ending point? Is it returning the girl safely to her car? Is it at the logical seperation point? I behaved like a gentleman and offered to escort her to her car. It's a big city. It's late at night. She declined, not surprisingly. So then the date ends when the Metro arrives. No lingering in the doorway or the car. This doorway closes in 15 seconds and says "Doors Closing" and means it. That's a tough way to end a first date, or any date if I remember correctly.

I'm dealing with all of this when the final blow lands. THE GOOD NIGHT PUNCH. Just a soft little jab to the shoulder and a "see you tomorrow." The good night punch may be the hardest punch there is. Soft punch to the shoulder followed by the heart dropping to the toes. I couldn't end on a good night punch, even with "Doors Closing" seconds away. So I reached out and gave a hand squeeze. A vastly superior move to the good night punch, if I do say so myself. It salvaged the moment, but the effects of the good night punch linger on.

Ok. Ok. I'll ask.
In case you were wondering the high school girls are in Ocean City, MD. So is the finest in all pre-post modern architecture.
And so is the sea. Ah the sea. I never got the sea the way I got the mountains, but I still enjoy a nice visit to the beach now and again. Yesterday was now and again. Ah the sea.

BANJ-woe
I went to tune my banjo and I made it sound significantly worse.
My harmonica didn't help. So I played them together.

What do you do when the wizards are gone?
For a few days there I was lost in Harry Potter. I went to bed reading Potter, dreamed Potter and had breakfast with Potter.
There are other wizards. I attended a meeting with some bigwigs. The scene reminded me of the Sauron/Gandalf battle in Lord of the Rings. We were on the top floor of the building around this shiny wooden table, dark enough to be stone and though Mt. Doom wasn't on the horizon, the looks people around the table were giving each other were viscious. I was waiting for someone to pull a wand or shoot fire or something. It all ended amiably. Maybe next time.

It's a what?
Tonight I experienced Fondue. For the uninitiated that's a French word for pricey pieces of food that you should skewer and stick in hot bubbling goo. 4 courses and 3 hours after it started I was still stuffing my face with anything I could dip in chocolate. At one point I think I was poking at the table to pick up crumbs just so I'd have something else to scoop up the chocolate with. I've never been so stuffed in my life. And the best part was it all came pre-cut. This stuff is better than having the crust cut off of a Mom pb&j. It's also nine thousand times more expensive. NINE THOUSAND. I am unable to do anything else that costs money in the month of July. Unless I go to a matinee of Pirates of the Carribbean. I can surely take that from the August budget.

I'll be your pirate
I say, "AYE! July 9th is Curse of the Black Pearl Day!" The movie has laughs, swordfights, wacky Johnny Depp and lovely swashbuckling Kiera Knightley. It's lots better than you'd expect. Worth every penny of the 9 dollars I paid for it. I might even see it again. ' Course it does have my bonnie lass in it.

The Italian Biscuit
I saw The Italian Job today. It wasn't very Italian. If making Mini's and tanktops sexy was the Job, then Charlize Theron did it. Unfortunately for all the twists and turns this movie tried to give me, it all ended up on a pretty straight and narrow path. Save your money for 2 more days, 'cause Kiera's coming!

I also saw a preview for Seabiscuit. Read the book. Read the book. READ THE BOOK! I was thinking that Seabiscuit might make a great movie because the book is a real kick. It looks like Spiderman and Hollywood just might mess up an awesome tale. The book doesn't have music, but I've got a hunch it's got a lot the movie is missing. I'm trying not to judge too harshly, but let's say that my hopes are diminished. And for those of you who want to dust off the ol' library card, read the book.

Progress as promised
Better than a MoDot highway, I'm getting better picking my ol' banjo everyday. It's neat to get better at something.

My new toy...
is a banjo. YEE haw.

As promised,
Why I love the Folk-life Festival
Banjos, banjos, banjos! I've seen more banjo players at this festival than I've ever seen in my life. I hear that banjo players spend half of their time playing out of tune and the other half tuning. A fiddler told me that.

Playing civil war songs, a large African American liberal spouting off against Bush and ignorance, was dwarfed by his thin, sweet-voiced Native American partner WAILING on the harmonica. I mean WAILING.

If that juxtaposition wasn't enough, I saw the sexiest upright bass player I've ever seen, imagined even. Sorry Dave Hall and Jim Widner.
She was pleasantly plump, down-home as could be and dead sexy. Not only could she play the bass, but her voice was beautiful.

I did take a break to eat a Scottish delicacy, Fofar Bridie, I believe, and find my family tartan.

And today I found out that a violin and an accordion can make some of the most sorrowful sounds I've ever heard.

I might just go back tomorrow and see what else I can discover.

Mind spinning
I have so much to post I think my head is going to explode. I think I'll break it down and only give responses for now. I'll come back later with a "Why I love the Folk-life Festival".

#1. You should all know that I was one point away from being able to marry Clare according to the fabulous quiz. I think I lost some serious points due to material concerns that I rarely possess. You just can't be a metrosexual if you don't care much about clothes or hair. I also lost a point or two because Frisbees in quizzes bias me.

#2. Um. Blogger, why? Why? Sure it's pretty, but I can't access my bloggin history. That's bloggin' ridiculous if you ask me. AND they didn't.

#3. For readers of J-Dub "Out saving the world" (the address now escapes me) I would like to remind everyone that I DID NOT APPROVE of the Hardee's Star. I want that perfectly clear. I found it threatening and mean and I even wrote Hardee's about it to complain.
They never wrote back.

Down, down, up
I missed the Scottish dressing. I played less than stellar in my first Summer League game. I met Paul Duncan and he seems like an upstanding Ultimate player from St. Louis. Brad Fingland might remember him. I don't.

Take that
For those of you that said "Kilts and banjos don't go together," I want you to know that if it all works out, tomorrow night I'm going to hear a man play a banjo and Thursday night I'm going to go listen to a talk on proper Scottish dress. And it's all the same festival. How about that?

Special attention to CSR
*I lied about my throws. More like 10 to 15 feet.
*I didn't lie about Tony Hawk. Wow.
Special attention to you
The Hulk is as bad as it looks in the commercials.
College movies are dangerous. They make me want to get out there and conquer. I should probably just stay right here and conquer for a while.
It's only Monday and already my weekend is deteriorating.

oops.
I woke up this morning and thought, "what a refreshing 6 hours of sleep". I rolled over, looked at the clock and realized the thought should've been, "what a refreshing 10 hours of sleep". I was 3 hours late to work. I've been late to work two other times in my life. And those two times I was less than 20 minutes late. THREE HOURS!
I'm never going to live this down. I paid the price today. I got to do all the junk that I was going to get out of had I been on time. I'm sure I'll pay the price for a while. Curses...

My thoughts on rap music
No. Nevermind.
I've decided that is neither herre nor thurr.

Full Throttle--I said it before, I'll say it again.
Dump Lucy, Cameron and Drew. Give us the originals. Even at 50+ they still look hotter than these three. The men I know agree.

No Vampy Eye Makeup!
Thanks to the lovely Clare and the lovely Kiera Knightley I now have some great advice on proper make-up application. Kiera is now 20 according this recent source. That's 3 years she has aged since we first met a few months ago. She'll catch up to me in no time and then all of you can stop snickering. In the meantime, I'll continue to admire her from afar, except when I find close-ups. July 9th is coming fast. Who's going to "Pirates of the Carribbean" with me?

Perhaps I need a hobby
Today I stayed a bit late at work so that I could set up a cubicle horse race. That sounds more exciting than it is. On the back wall of my cubicle I have 10 Clip Art Horses and jockeys, all wearing different color jerseys and caps, of course. They are lined up and ready to race toward the finish line. Each racer represents a member of the volunteer leadership team. As they assign computers for me to ship out to their various regions I will move the horses to the finish line. The first one to assign all thier computers will cross the line first. One jockey has jumped out to an early lead already. You never know what will happen at the AARP Downs, though. So don't count your winnings yet.

Much ado about nothing
I worked through most of my lunch so I could do a little "Word XP Clip Art". I rode my bike around in circles. AND I threw the flying disc with myself.
2 of those 3 activities were quite satisfying. The other resulted in a trip to the roof.

Acronymns Are Rather Pretentious
I'm lost in a sea of HMO's, PPO's POS's, 401k's, ASI, and various other top secret code.

What is the price of fame?
Is he/she a fan of Dotopia?
Check out the end of the paragraph under Point/Counterpoint June 8th.

Fighting Materialism with plastics
I have a confession.
I went shopping yesterday. It was for birthday presents for my friends, but I spent a lot of time admiring material goods that I suddenly "had to have". Frightening what a bit of disposable income will do to a fellow. Williams and Sonoma, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Express for Men have some beautiful items. I managed to escape before I bought a shirt to match one of those nifty shower curtains. It was a narrow escape though. A close call. I found a temporary remedy for my materialistic itches-cleaning. Nothing like putting the junk you already own in its place to give you a little perspective on what you really need. The income will have to be disposed another day. Disaster averted.

Come on baby let's retire
I got my AARP membership today. How's that for service? I can't wait to start using my discounts. In my retirement I plan to read Mental Floss, since that wish was granted by my Auntie Moose(she's a regular blog reader it seems) and Uncle Roger. Chris seems to have a strange desire to mat me. I can only assume he and I no longer have the same frame of reference. And Kristin, there are something like 26 shopping days left... 'course with my discounts of up to 20%, it hardly seems fair to have a wish list at all.

Crazy drunk drivers
That's what the bum says when Michael J. Fox comes BACK TO THE FUTURE, which is now very much the past.
I spent a lot of my day in the studio watching "them" photograph stupid props for a poster. It was cool for a while, but I can only have so many opinions about a coffee mug that was moved 3 inches before I run out of opinions. It was almost like being part of something advertising though. Almost.
Great Scott.

Buy now. Pay later
In case you are shopping for my birthday present already I would like:
a banjo, a kilt, a cribbage board, a Blink-182 CD, a book-maybe called The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven and maybe not, a subscription to Mental Floss,
new pants, banjo lessons, a trip, a giant frame that I can walk through, cleats, someone to throw the disc with, a state-of-the-art pencil, mmmmmm. cookies, a book definitely a book, and some music I lika de music- Bluegrass Country? Zydeco? don't be afraid to expose me to new things I lead a very sheltered life. A visit, a piece of pie,...

Somewhere between
crotch holes growing to unmanageable size and roast beef hash patties, I managed to fit in both my first conference call (zzzzzz) and my first meeting with creative services. My pappy always said that those quarterly financial reports would make a dandy place for my advertising skills, maybe he was right. That's not what I was doing though. I was back-up to a coworker trying to get a designer to do some freakin' designing. We'll see how that works out. The calendar keeps filling up. The job becomes harder to escape. I went to work happy though and I felt guilty. It's ok to like going to work. Just don't tell the pranksters. They'll serve you electric kool-aid and make you walk through a giant frame. So we all have the same frame of reference. Thanks T. Wolfe.

What a trip, man.
It's been awhile as some of my more impatient readers pointed out, but I'm back to bore you now. Here's a little look at my trips by the numbers.
*9 different airports. Cleveland's had the coolest artwork.
*8 bachelorette parties seen in Austin, 5 in a single bar. James and I decided that there are plenty of beautiful women in Austin, but you better hurry because they are all getting married.
*13 (tied)- Leadbelly's place at Nationals.
*15-13 Stanford women edged out MIT in a thriller women’s final.
*15-? Wisconsin annhilated Oregon.
*2 Ultimate games I've seen in a stadium. Ooh. Ahh.
*6th- the “cool” street in Austin.
*Bourbon St. is not a number.
*7 drink offers I turned down
*39 average age of women I danced with on Bourbon St.
*Lots- of things I found out about my coworkers that I probably shouldn’t have.
*90-95 age that I'll live according to the palm reader.
*1 items consumed from the mini-bar charged to the room.
*2 kingsize beds in the last 2 weeks.
*a gazillion - other blogworthy thoughts that just didn’t quite make the cut for one reason or another but may trickle in later

The Adventure continues
Details in June...

Blah.
My grandma died Friday night. She taught me how to play poker. I'm pretty much ok. I'm just stressed a bit about when I should fly out of here to go to the funeral. That's the problem with having a job.
It's raining, it's cold, and the Matrix wasn't very good. It's been a particularly somber weekend. I want dinner.

Got a haircut, got a real job
Well, I did it. After complaining for weeks that my life has been on pause, I finally get to Play. I got a job! Starting Monday I'm a Program Assistant for AARP Tax-Aide. On Friday, I'm taking my first vacation day to go to Austin, Texas to see my other College Ave. roommates and some good old-fashioned College Nationals Ultimate. (And Kate if all goes well.) Then on Tuesday I take my first business trip to N'awlins. Woo. Doggie. No wonder people get jobs.

What's the deal..
with D.C. potato salad? Where I come from Potato Salad is yellow and of questionable shape. Here it looks like potato. No good. I want unnaturally yellow potato salad. No more of this Capital city creee-ap.

Austin?
Austin, Massachusetts?

Near run-ins with the almost famous
The past few days has just been filled with fame...
*My friend Rob ran into Nathalie Portman on campus in N.H. He was brave enough to talk to her.
*I met a guy who played at Worlds Ultimate. He was lazy enough to let me hand-block him and sky him. He had poor spirit and was my new nemisis until he asked me to play on his team.
*Today while eating my lunch of fried shark I eavesdropped on the proud father of a future star. You’ve seen his kid in Pizza Hut commercials and soon you’ll see him in a movie with Darius Miles, Erica Christenson (sp?) called “Perfect Score” We all expect very big things. I just wish he would’ve shut up for 10 seconds so I could think my own thoughts during my solo lunch. He’s on his 4th Volvo you know. 3 in row, one in graduate school...

And the plot thickens
If you aren't going to sleep enough and you aren't going to exercise, eventually it will catch up with you. I guess today was my day. I still got asked to play on a Coed team Memorial Day weekend. See title.

Do I?
There is something about Arlington, VA that makes me want to participate in the mating rituals of my species.

No regrets. Ok not many
Check it! That's my buddy Rodger doing OSU's scoring (message 11). Nationals baby! I could've been studying junk and using up my eligibility with that gang, but I'm living it up with the old folks and trying to win a Rec league instead. All the way OSU! All the way boys. Football and Ultimate in the same year. Why the heck not?

Can’t explain it
I went to a party Sat. night. I’m not a party guy. I thought this one would be different. It was an Ultimate party and there was free pool. It was not different. Even in a room where everyone shared my favorite talking point-Ultimate, I still couldn’t find a place to start a conversation. Beer and noise are my kryptonite.
Cut to the next day. Surround myself with basically the same people, but this time I’m in a field and conversation comes second to the actual game of Ultimate.
In our very first game I had one of those great one on one battles going. I got a D on him. He got a D on me. He called a foul. I contested it. And the play was done over. I was wrong, but he treated me with respect. I burned him. He burned me. And all through the game we battled it out. It was one of those occasions when opponents bring out the best. My team snuck away with the victory, but that’s less important to me than the rest of the story.
And the post-game story was interesting too. In between games I struck up a conversation with Chip, my new rival. As I walked away he said to me, “I have an extra skirt if you’re interested.” I thanked him and said maybe I’d find him later. A bit later I did find him and I borrowed a beautiful blue kilt. I wore it like a Scotsman should, perhaps a backwards Scotsman, but still a Scotsman. And it was glorious, probably less so for the spectators. From that point on, I talked it up with my teammates. I joked, I laughed and I didn’t care. It was my kind party.

My sister asked me an interesting question that I still can’t answer. “Why did he offer you a skirt in the first place?” It didn’t occur to me, but that is an interesting question. Chime in if you read all this, but don’t forget that skirt wearing in Ultimate is an accepted practice. I like to think it’s because my Spirit was visible.

As graduation approaches people start to dispense advice. Here at Dotopia, I'm no different. In honor of all those readers graduating soon, already graduated, and even those of you who think graduation is for punks, I give you All I need to know I learned from punk music
*Being grown up isn’t half as fun as growing up...The the only thing that matters is just following your heart and eventually you’ll finally get it right.
*That’s the point. I won’t think about nothing, now I’ve got to do something else.
*ROCK. It’s what we’re all about. It’s what we live for. Come on and shout it out.
*Someone’s got to lose when someone wins. Look at the world you’re livin’ in.
*You’re not alone.
*Go on and take it off. TAKE IT OFF!
*Living so free is a tragedy, when you can’t be what you want to be.
And finally although it isn’t punk, it’s very important advice from Carolyn Hax, “Nothing is better when it rules out a moon bounce.”

And this special heartfelt, nonpunk message from me, "Make me proud, but do it your way."

Nice shoes
Here's the new D.C. pick-up "line". Me: Do you read the City Paper?
CG(cute girl): No.
Me: Too bad. They have these "I saw you" classifieds and now you'll never see the one I put in about you.
or
CG:yes.
Me: Save me 3 dollars and don't make me put an "I saw you" ad in next week's paper.

I know. I know. Who can resist?