Saturday, September 30, 2006

C'est Moi.So I finally got myself hooked up with a Facebook account. It took months and months of patients, but Facebook finally opened its doors to non-collegiate email addresses. This wouldn’t have been a big issue had Messiah College offered its alumni, email accounts. By the way, I wrote them a letter stating they should do so. Now it appears a lot of the Facebook community is upset because of this allowance of random people into their community. While they do have a right to gripe, they should also understand that there have been some of us trying to get in for quite some time, but our college or university was just not helpful enough to comply with the rest of the world. Sure MC wants to take my money, even more so now that I am an alum, but why not offer something back in return?

Anywho, so since I’ve made a Facebook profile, I have come the conclusion that I have absolutely littered myself all over the internet (but the one that Al Gore did NOT invent). Between The Blogger, The MySpace, The YouTube, The Riya, and now The Facebook, a stalker (I know of two that exist today) could easily find out anything they want to know about me, including past relationships, videos and pictures from college, my interest, my job. Heck I bet if someone looked hard enough they could even find my mailing address.

I haven’t decided if all this free information available to anyone who wants it is a good idea yet or not. Right now I do think it’s a good thing though. I have nothing to hide about my life and I am still able to keep parts of my life secretive as I am in control of the information out there. So if you want to join the crew and stalk me, or just find out what I’ve been up to the past 6 years, just look me up. I’m “On The Net.”

Monday, September 25, 2006

Yes, the rumors you have heard are true. It was the best Jamesapalooza ever! We’re talking chicks in the pool in their underwear, chicks making out in the bathroom (supposedly), dudes downing yards of beer, people searching for their shoes (yet again), and the list could continue on and on. Is there video? Perhaps. Will it find it’s way to the Internet? I’m sure. Eventually. But not anytime soon.

And that’s all I have to say about that. Okay I have more. Right now I’m sitting here watching the football game with 3 other participants of Jamesapalooza and we’ve been recapping events all day. Events such as “Where’s Kelly?” and “Jamie’s and A** HOLE!” and “You’ve got hot chicks making out in your bathroom!” and “Mumble mumble mumble SMOKE!” Okay, now I’m done.

So my gripe this month is people who drive expensive, high performance sport cars and refuse to go the speed limit. And by that, I’m not talking too fast. I was behind a brand spankin’ new white Mustang last night for 15 minutes going an average of 45 MPH on a 55 MPH state road. A week agao I was behind a gorgeous new silver Corvette, and we were going about 35 in a 45 zone. And worse yet is every other day I get behind a Camero leaving work going about 45 in a 55 where I like to go 70. What’s the deal here? If I could afford such a car, surely I could afford the speeding tickets I’d be racking up going way over the speed limit. So here’s the deal people. Drive a fast car, drive fast. Because my 2004 Chevy Cavalier should NOT be tailing and pushing you down route 36.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Math is NOT gay!I’ve been waiting months and months for the premiere of season 3 of The Office. Let me tell you, it did not disappoint! Incase you missed it, here’s a brief, but oh so funny rundown.

The show opened up with three main themes. Theme #1: Jim transferred to the Stanford branch. Theme #2: Pam got cold feet and wound up breaking it off with Roy 3 days before the wedding. Theme #3: Michael discovers that Oscar is gay and pretty much freaks out and in the process, outs Oscar. Just to give you a taste without spoiling stuff, here are some of my favorite quotes. Of course I can’t remember the exact wording, but this should do.

Michael: “You don’t call a retarded person, a retard. That's poor taste. You call your friends retards when they are acting retarded.”

Creed: “I’m not offended by it. Back in the 60’s I made love to many many women! Most of it outdoors. Usually in the rain and mud. It's possible a man may have slipped in there. There's really no way of knowing.”

Andy (new character): “Who put my calculator in Jell-O? No seriously who did this? Anybody? Seriously. Because if no one speaks up I might just loose my FREAKIN' MIND! [in the mists of kicking the trashcan to the moon]!” (Jim quickly looses his smile and stares seriously at his computer screen, avoiding eye contact.)

Jim: “Ah yes. The GAYDAR. I think Sharper Image sells those. Let me check their website.” [Jim hits some keys on his computer stupidly only so Dwight and Michael can hear him type] “Nope. It looks like they are all sold out. Sorry.”

Michael: “Hey look. There’s Oscar’s roommate Gill. I wonder if he knows . . .?”

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Ahh it was another great weekend down at Rehoboth Beach. I picked up two first place “trophies”, two undefeated tournament victories, and yet unfortunately, still no hot chicks. But let me tell you, they were all over the stinkin’ place! Again, stupid me I missed all the hot make out sessions at the Frogg Pong (you know the drill about clubs to avoid in Rehoboth Beach, nothing with animals or colors in the name will be straight clubs). We checked the place out Friday night but all that was there were a butch chicks and unidentifiable genders, and of course a great band. Saturday night I opted to stay in, and I’m told there were hot chicks making out all over the place there (with each other obviously). Darn my friends for not calling to tell me to get my little a** down there! But anywho, you can check both of my victories out here once they post it. Oh, you can also check out my photos from the weekend here. Sorry, no hot chicks making out there either.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Since everyone else is telling their story, I might as well tell mine. September 11, 2001. It must have been either a Tuesday or Thursday morning as I recall having an 8 o’clock class before chapel. Ooh I hated those things (by that I mean both 8 o’clocks and chapels). Anywho, on my way to chapel my friend Stuckey had told me that someone had flown a plane into the World Trade Center. At the time I remember thinking, “What an idiot. Last time a plane was flown into a skyscraper it didn’t do a whole lot of damage.” I of course am referring to the 1945 incident where a B-25 crashed into the Empire State Building. It wasn’t too long into chapel when my nap was interrupted by an announcement that a second plane had crashed into the second building. At this point I realized that this wasn’t just some idiot in a plane. Something serious was going on.

I remember sitting in my next class right after chapel watching the CNN broadcast of the buildings falling down, and then of course more news came in about the planes at the Pentagon and Somerset County. Mt professor let us out shortly there after as no one was really in the mood for class. I walked out of the classroom and down the hall watching students stare at the TVs still as statues in disbelief. I myself hadn’t yet come to an understanding as to what was going on. A few other classes were cancelled that day and I wound up spending lunch and hours there after just trying to comprehend the madness going on. Students were angry and trying to call home frantically. In the meantime I remember thinking, “Why is it such a big deal for this to happen to our country, yet acts of terrorism go on every day in other countries without a word being said?”

I don’t recall if I talked to my parents or not that day. I can’t imagine that I didn’t. The shear amount of emotions just overwhelmed me. It overwhelmed everybody. Anger at those that would do such a thing, compassion for those that lost friends and family members, hopelessness, sympathy, fear, all these feelings just brewing inside each and every one of us. It’s why we remember events like this one, or the Kennedy Assassination, or the Challenger Explosion. How do you forget such an overpowering experience?

As the days went on my emotions got the better of me. I had a huge test to study for that week in Analog Electronics (an impossible course let me tell you) and I couldn’t focus for more than 5 minutes. At night I’d lie awake for hours in the dark, in my bed, praying and crying (yes I cried, I’m a big softy I know. Don’t hold it against me) for those that had lost loved ones. It was all I could do in a time when I was useless to those suffering.

But time moved on. We moved on. Now all you can do is look back and remember. Remember the emotions that were stirred, the friends that were made, the people that were lost, the thoughts that taught us that we as a people were not invincible. Tragic events will never come to end. There will always be another act of terrorism, another natural disaster, another war, another death and all we can ever do, is just continue on and drive forward. Because without that drive, what’s the point in continuing on?

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Does anyone else actually care for those stupid little beads that come in most of the liquid soaps these days? I don’t get it. They annoy the heck out of me and I can hardly find a descent masculine scent without them. Frankly I don’t see what kind of purpose they serve, other than they make me rinse ten times longer to get the little buggers off my skin and out of my crevasses. There is no way those rocks are cleansing my skin any better than liquid soap without them would. It’s just an asinine selling ploy for stupid people who believe that Gillette’s Mach3 micro-vibrating razor will shave closer than their non-vibrating Mach3 razor. I should be in marketing if the best marketers can do is come up with dense ideas like that that ordinary folk will believe. Hey buy this new shampoo that has crumbled pits of paper in it that add fiber to your hair! Give me your money idiots of the world!

Now I know what you’re thinking. To avoid all of this I could just use bar soap, but to be honest I really hate washing myself with my own filth on a block of animal fat day in and day out.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

I recently read an article from the Bucks County Courier Times outside of Philadelphia, PA. The article was entitled “Head for the Hills” and discussed where a good vacation spot would be if a Philadelphian were looking to take a vacation. Normally this wouldn’t have interested me, however the vacation spot of choice was, you guessed it, Altoona, PA, The Railroad City!

Can you believe it? Most people that live here are trying to get out, and Philadelphians are being encouraged to visit? I had to read on, and while this might surprise you, I found nothing in the article that would make me want to visit here if I didn’t live here.

The article opens up with a beautiful ginormous aerial picture of Racetown Lake, which had to have been edited to reflect crystal blue water and such a vibrant green tree line. The first number of paragraphs pointed out the railroad aspect of the city. Focusing on such features as Horseshoe Curve, a “monument to master builders who tamed the great Appalachian Front for the Main Line of the Pennsylvania Railroad” and the Incline Plane in Johnstown, PA. Altoona is described as “bustling with shopping centers, restaurants and hotels built within the last 10 years or so.” I mean seriously, who really wants to go see that when anyone can get that in his or her own hometown? I-99 was given credit for bringing in outsiders allowing for growth in everything from minor league baseball to (and this is one of my favorite drawing attractions) “any chain restaurant you can think of, from Applebee’s to Uno Chicago Grill.” This is just what I despise about the Railroad City. I’m more into finding small, unknown local restaurants than all the big chains. That I know of, only a few exist that don’t have scary, 8-toothed waitresses working there. Another selling point in the article was the CDs one could purchase at the local Circuit City. Ooooooh buddy!

I will admit that the numerous state parks and outdoor activities do sound interesting, such as activities that Canoe Creek and Wilmore Dam have to offer. However if you live in the area you know that Lakemont and DelGrosso’s Amusement Parks are really a stretch to be called, “amusing.” The author’s favorite aspect of the city is the sheer amounts of antiques one can obtain. A favorite spot was the gigantic Leighty’s Flea Market that any well traveled Altoonian would know spans 29 acres of poor, crowded, gun displaying filth. Somehow the Tea Merchant 101 found a spot in the article. While I have heard of it, but have yet to go there, the article did actually make me want to check it out. If you’re curious you can find it just around the corner of the Comfort Inn near John Stuckey Ford.

While the sheer fact that someone would want to come to this town for vacation just baffles me, the fact that Philadelphians are being encouraged to is even more humorous to me. I mean don’t get me wrong, I enjoy living here, but if I was from a big city and wanted to “head for the hills” it wouldn’t be to the Railroad City, but more towards Lake Tahoe or somewhere like that.

If you have connections, you find the article in the August 12, 2006 edition of the Bucks County Courier Times on pages 1B and 3B. And just incase you found this blog entry even remotely interesting (which I too would find hard to believe), you can find out more information on tourism in the area online at

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

So I made it thru the wedding. Of course I didn’t know a soul there as I sat in the very back in front of a bunch of people my age that obviously knew each other and most likely went to school with the bride. The church was quite fancy and traditional and I wasn’t quite sure where the hymnals were that the reverend kept referring too. But that was okay. I couldn’t really hear what the heck was going on. Would it have been rude to bring my iPod in with me during a wedding? Looking back on it, I probably would venture to say, “Abso-frickin’-lutely!”

So I got me a nice little piece of paper with the directions to the reception after we were all dismissed. Ha! Like I knew where the heck I was going. Plus I was pretty sure the poorly drawn map was actually a mirror reflection of what it should have been; at least half of it anyway. So I made it to the country club where the reception was at. I follow signs that read, “Valet Only” (as those were the only signs that were visible) which brought me right in front of the doors. Now my dad informed me that this was a very very upscale place. Who the crap was I impressing!? No one of course so while the valet dude (and he was a dude by the way) looked at me thru my car window as I slowed down, I gave a nice little smile and drove on thru like I was part of the valet team and was parking a car. Brother did that work! I parked my own vehicle and walked right up to the doors from the parking lot. As I have discovered in the past, if you look like and portray you belong, people will accept that as the truth. Oh there is so much you can learn thru observation!

So I entered the country club and was quite aware that I was definitely NOT dressed like anyone else. And by that I mean I was not in a dark suit, but a new pair of semi-worn kakis, a silver-bluish button shirt and matching tie. So I walked over to the bar and helped myself to a nice free beer and a few h’orderves. After standing around knowing precisely no one for about 25 minutes waiting for my friend, Steph to get back from her picture shoot, the groom’s uncle and aunt approached me and uttered the following, “So you’re standing here all by yourself, not talking to anyone. What’s your story?” A little shocked at their directness, but not insulted, I explained to them my “story” and was pretty sure they felt a little sorry for me (as they really should have been, but frankly I was quite happy people watching) and they eagerly said they’d introduce me to some other people there my age. I’m sure Aunt was singing, “Match maker match maker make me a match” in her mind throughout all of this as that is what women do.

So I’m introduced to Meg. Meg went to high school with Steph, or so she thought. Turns out it was really one of Steph’s older sisters. Anywho, I got to know Meg a little and she took me to be introduced to her mom and Mom’s friend. Meg’s husband was currently MIA as I learned he didn’t speak English very well (this was evident later on when I finally met Meg’s Husband), not that that had anything to do with him being absent. Then finally Steph showed up and introduced me to some of her closer friends. Enter Sandy. Sandy is a graying, red haired, school teacher from Baltimore. A riot this one is, not to mention her drunken mother. Sandy wasn’t graying because of her age (she is my age after all) but more so because of her stressful job. Sandy came with her partner Jenn who is a software engineer. Unfortunately it seemed she worked for a government contractor so she couldn’t talk too much about what she did but we did enjoy some good nerdy discussions.

Finally it was time to sit down and luckily Sandy and Jenn were at my table, lucky #16. Somehow it turns out that I am always at the fun table at weddings. You know they type; the table makes fun of all the other tables and laughs most of the time. Hmmm, maybe it’s me that does that. Anywho, after about 3 speeches and 2 blessings later we finally got our food. It wasn’t bad, steak, fish, some kind of magical potato that was already mashed on the inside. The fish was spread with what we decided to call, Green. Just, Green. No idea what it was, or what it tasted like, but it wasn’t bad. So finally another couple speeches later we got desert, Sandy sneaked me some Bailey’s for my coffee and we had a good time. The band lead singer looked exactly like Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing so we tried to get him to sing Hungry Eyes. I don’t think he got the joke, but he wouldn’t play the song anyway. During dancing I got know Amanda a little better (Steph’s friend who took her from the mall earlier that day) or mostly that she really seemed to enjoy dancing. I also learned I’m one of the only people that knows the words to One Week, you know the Chickity China, the Chineese Chicken song by Bare Naked Ladies.

So countless drinks later (not by me, but by Steph and Amanda) it was time to go. At least that’s what the wedding people said. I guess you could say we closed the place. From there we headed to a hotel bar when people enjoyed yet another round of drinks. There Amanda and Steph decided they had enough of their painful strapless bras and decided to parade around with them like they were hand bags. Wait maybe that was just Steph.

So all-in-all it was a really good time. I was a little skeptical about the weekend on Friday but I never seem to fail to make my own fun. But then again that’s what life is all about isn’t it? Making your own fun? Of course there is no better way to do that than with a bunch of giant strangers, some free booze and one heck of a wedding!

By the way, I also walked right out to my car with no problem and drove off after the reception. Who needs a valet to handle a car when people think you are one?

Oh yeah did I mention the wedding was full of giant people? The bride was 6’1”, with the shortest bride’s maid being 5’10”. So with a 6’1” bride who played college basketball, you can only imagine what the rest of the basketball teams, and family looked like. Just thought you’d like to know Andy.

Monday, September 04, 2006

So I went to a wedding this past weekend with a friend who moved to Alabama recently. Lucky for me my friend didn't tell me she was in the wedding until after I said I'd go with her. Why would she do something like this? Who knows? It's what she does. So Saturday morning I took off for Pittsburgh (as that was were the wedding was at) to meet my very hung over friend at some mall (the reason she was hung over was because she would rather drive 6 hours to hear a band play and get completely trashed from free drinks [**cough** groupie! **cough**] than see her real friends. But hey, I'm just along for the ride). So I got to the mall and it turned out since she was so late rolling out of bed and getting to Pittsburgh, I didn't need to drive her to the bride's house, but another friend was taking her straight to the church. So that left me 2.5 hours to chill at some random Pittsburgh mall. Now let me just say this mall was way bigger than any mall I live near. So I took off and did a little shopping. Not to sound girlie or anything but I walked out of Aeropostale with 2 shirts and a pair of pants (why is it a pair of pants anyway? I'm only getting one!) for 37 bucks! C’est bonne marché! Lucky for me since I needed some pants for the wedding (okay so I had pants to wear, but I wasn't sure they would fit. Not the first time I've had to squeeze into pants for someone unknown person's wedding).

So finally it was time I should have been at the church so I got changed at three different places. I threw my pants on in the mall restroom (which smelled very cinnamonie by the way). I stripped and changed shirts in the mall parking lot. And rapped my tie around me at some random Subway. I also nearly suffocated myself using my body spray (Tag to be exact [it still doesn't work as advertised! You know, sexy chicks flying thru the air to grab my shirt and kiss the crap out of me.]) in my car with the windows up (it was flippin' cold outside!).

As if that wasn’t enough, there was the wedding and the reception, but more to come on that later.