A New Era in the Movie Theater Experience

Unfortunately the content of this post is not about the awesomeness of avatar and all its 3D glory, although those are sure to change the face of the movie industry forever. In fact, as I read in the article which I stole the above picture from, some "special" Avatar fans are so depressed by the fact that Pandora does not exist that they have even contemplated suicide hoping to be reincarnated as the 7-foot tall inhabitants of the perfect alien world. If you ever wondered who holds the most power in this world, it is certainly not the politicians. Alas, this post is about a much more dangerous and apparent threat to the movie-going experience...

Pizza


I guarantee you none of the people in the above picture contemplated suicide after this viewing of Avatar. I mean, how could they with the nose-tingling, ecstatic smell of a hot and greasy pizza pie constantly reminding them of the world they actually live in. Not even 3D can compete with a real life pizza.

How pissed would you be if you got the seat next to this guy? Not only is he of the larger variety, but any space you managed to keep for yourself was being invaded by a large pepperoni onion pizza (Ok ok, it might be a medium pie). But still, how did Tubby even get that box in? Last time I was at a theater I had to throw out a freakin' water bottle. He must have had an inside guy. God I need that kinda hook up.

I wonder how he paced himself. Did he try and make the pizza last the entire movie. That'd probably be like a slice every 30 mins or so. Not very feasible considering he's mid-bite when the pic was snapped. More plausibly he just managed a constant inflow of pizza for the first 30-45 minutes of the flick. At least in this scenario his neighbors would get to experience some pizza-free movie watching.

Why am I making such a big deal of this? I feel like this has opened the door for a variety of distracting food items to be allowed into a movie theater. Can you imagine someone chomping down on a bag of kettle cooked potato chips as Leo and Rose share their intimate moment atop the Titanic? Are they going to start letting people bring ceasar salads into theaters? I know lettuce isn't that loud, I'm just worried about the croutons. And what ceasar salad comes without croutons? None that I'd want to eat, that's for damn sure. All I can hope is that this was a one time incident; that this pizza-smuggling dick dack did not open up the floodgates of food into the movie-theater environment.

One final observation: Does our pizza lover resemble anyone to you? Look real hard. Take a minute and scroll down when you're ready.












Maybe Eagles fans shouldn't place the blame on McNabb after all.

Pickup Artists got nothing on me!

The past month I've been on a much needed break from law school. When I wasn't rewatching episodes of entourage and questioning my career choice, I spent a decent amount of time at my favorite watering holes. I'm not an alcoholic (i think), I just enjoy being in circumstances where I can laugh at people and subsequently feel better about myself. But sometimes, the tables are turned and I'm the one who is in fact worthy of being laughed at, typically for putting myself in an easily avoidable awkward situation.

One of my favorite such situations is when I employ my go-to pickup technique on unsuspecting drunk hags. It's called "what movie star do you look like." I've come to learn that most girls, especially the ones that frequent college bars, love being told they look like movie stars. Sounds simple, but their smiles don't lie. The best part is that almost always someone will have some semblance to a star and therefore I don't have to lie to them...at least not right off the bat. Couple that with my innate ability of determining what celebrity someone most resembles (remember that website where you could upload a picture of yourself and it'd spit back what celebrity you look like? Yea, that's basically how my brain works) and you have a deadly combo. Here's how a few of my recent "pickup" attempts turned out.


Celebrity Look Alike: Meg Ryan, Jennifer Connolly
Location: Lucky Strike
Guilty Parties: Myself, Random Girl 1, Random Girl 2, Homeless man playing stairway to heaven on the violin.

Sometimes my superhuman powers of picking out someone's inner celebrity draws blanks. This happened one night at Lucky Strike while I was playing the game with two of my fellow law student's friends. I could not, for the life of me, figure out what celebrity this girl looked like. Usually when this happens I just blurt out a random name and go with it. But in this situation, the only name that came to mind was Tom Hanks. Tom Hanks?!?! What am I suppose to do with that?! I started to panic...sweat built up on my forehead...my back started to itch (does that happen to anyone else? No? Ok then). Luckily my mind made a logical shift to You've Got Mail and I blurted out Meg Ryan. Success.

The next girl I had a much easier time with. She had obviously never heard of eyebrow maintenance. I blurted out Jennifer Connolly within seconds. Her friend wholeheartedly agreed. Oh yea almost forget...there was also a homeless guy playing stairway to heaven on a violin a few feet away. It really added some suspense. Figured he deserved a shout out.

Celebrity Look Alike: Scarlet Johanssen
Location: Fox and Hound
Guilty Parties: Myself, Cute Waitress, 4-5 vodka clubs

A few months ago I had the delightful opportunity to attend my five year high school reunion at the prestigious fox and hound country club. One waitress, whose name I obviously can't remember, really caught my attention. She had a very unique look to her and she kept serving me some of the strongest drinks I've had in awhile. What a winning combination - looks and a heavy hand. So, I decided it was time to play celebrity look alike. I had two actresses in mind: Katherine Heigl and Scarlet Johanssen. I felt that Scarlet was the more attractive of the two but I quickly asked my friends opinion and he agreed. Always better to overshoot than undershoot. Could not have worked out worse. I'm not sure if this girl was just stupid or really really offended. But she did not like my game and vehemently disagreed with me. Maybe she once had a bad experience with Scarlet. Like she caught her boyfriend looking at naughty pictures of her online. Who knows. But she was not happy. My next drink was tasted like water...with a splash of disdain.


Celebrity Look Alike: Sarah Jessica Parker
Location: Brownies, random night in November which Breezy probably doesn't remember.
Guilty Parties: Myself, Random Girl


While at my favorite Lancaster Avenue bar, I struck up a conversation with some girl and our conversation made its way to the movie star game. I told her she looked like Sarah Jessica Parker. She was NOT happy. I tried to explain to her that she only had Parker's attractive qualities. But this girl was quick to correct me that SJP doesn't have any attractive qualities. I decided it wasn't worth lying and agreed with her. Needless to say, there was no sex in the city that night.

2009: Lessons Learned

It has sure been awhile since my last posting. But what better time to get back into it than a few days after new years (any wild guesses on what my new years resolution was). It's a bit strange seeing this screen again and watching the words appear as my brain tells my fingers what to type and as the keys tell the computer what letters to display. One can only assume that one day in the future a person's fingers and the computer's keys will no longer be needed in this flow of information. I feel as though I'm returning from a long voyage out at sea (read: law school ass pounding) and finally getting a chance to recollect my Odyssey-esque adventures. While I haven't run into any Poseidons or Calypsos during my absence from this internet Ithaca, I have learned a few valuable lessons and some interesting facts that I feel even Ulysses would be proud of.

1. Guys can give good haircuts after all. An earlier post displayed my hatred for getting my hair cut by a dude. I know it may seem strange. 30 years ago it was weird for women to cut mens hair. But back then they had barber shops. Put me in a barber shop and I will gladly let a man cut my hair. Put me in a salon and it better a sassy 38 yr old bombshell. I had gotten haircuts by guys twice before and both times left lasting emotional scars. So when I walked in to Top Cut Hair Salon a few weeks ago and heard the receptionist yell Frank when I gave her my name, I almost ran out the door straight into West Chester Pike. How could I have forgotten to give my standard gender preference disclaimer while booking the appointment. In most instances Frank would have been a deal breaker. But I had a gift certificate and Frank sounded like a fairly straight name. I decided to go through with it. Turns out it was possibly the best haircut of my life...definitely of my twenties. I'm sorry for doubting you Frank...you make the hair cutting industry a better place.

2. Do not attempt to catch peas in your mouth. I've had a long run of success catching various food items in my mouth. Popcorn...M&Ms...Grapes...you name it. But the peas...damn, the peas. I knew it would happen one day...a vengeful food would come around and pay me back for all those times I played with its predecessors before unmercifully tearing them to pieces in a similar fashion to the t-rex in Jurassic Park who ate the guy on the toilet. I just never thought it would be a veggie...let alone a pea. Do not be fooled by their small stature and whimsical shade of green. Those slippery bastards won't even give you a chance to chew before they slide down your esophagus and get lodged in a lung. It's all fun and games until the pea fights back and you find yourself panicking for breath. Apparently my family thought the fun and games continued throughout the coughing and gasping fit. At least that's what it seemed from their choir of laughter. No longer am I uncertain about the difference between laughing-with laughter and laughing-at laughter.

3. Snowboarding in real life is NOT the same as Cool Boarders 2 for Playstation.
Why don't they tell you how much it hurts? These "Cool" Boarders are taking spills that would dismantle even the likes of Adrian Peterson. But they just get right back up and pop a 1060 double grab back flip from 100 ft up. Me? I fell going straight at maybe 10 miles an hour and it almost ended my day. Screw you cool boarders 2. You lie. You made me believe I could when I couldn't. Why didn't the game developers have a pain threshold meter? That would have made sense. I mean this isn't Marvel Snowboarding. People don't heal themselves. Why weren't there any knees getting blown out? Or ribs getting crushed? Or spleens bursting? Horrible right? But that's not the worst part. When you ran into another cool boarder, neither of you fell! How is that possible?! Do they have bricks in their boots? If that happened in real life, here's the best case scenario: your shin is probably split open by the edge of your buddy's board but you can't tell if it is because you're clinging to the edge of the mountain screaming for your someone to help. Worst case scenario: you die and get run over by a snowmobile. These sorts of things did not happen in Cool Boarders 2. If Cool Boarders 2 was a book, you'd be able to find it in the fiction section of Barnes & Noble. It would probably be right in between "How to Effectively Tell the Truth to Women" and "Tiger Woods: I Swear it was Only Ten".

4. Speaking of telling the truth, do not ever EVER tell a girl that you forgot her name. Especially after she remembered yours. And especially after the two of you had been talking for an hour plus...15 minutes of which were about each others names. It's one of the typical no win situations that guys so often find themselves in. Admit your forgetfulness and you'rean asshole. Give an educated guess and you're a jerk. What ever happened to E for Effort.

5. If you do forget a girls name (it's inevitable), do not tell her it's because it was too strange. This was my first lesson of the new year...and it came about 45 mins into 2010. I've since realized "unique" is a good substitute for strange. There's also the time honored tradition of turning the tables and pretending to get offended that they'd even think you were capable of forgetting their name.


6. Extra-terrestrials have sex just like humans. I always figured aliens existed. I mean with how big the universe is and with how many solar systems there are it's a statistical probability that some planet in galaxy far far away can sustain life just as our Earth does. Obviously, this led me to the question of how aliens have sex. Do they have penises? Do they vaginas? Do they have Jamie Lee Curtis'? Maybe they have sex like the sea anemone and pollute the air with reproductive particles. Maybe they have sex telepathically. Do they do it for fun? Maybe they're like insects and only do it when some chemical is released into their environment. Or, maybe they're like dolphins who are basically the ocean's version of David Duchovny. Freakin' dolphin sluts. Who could possibly have the answers to these questions of galactic importance? I'll tell you who - his name is James Cameron. In his true story inspired film Avatar, Jim captures two aliens having intercourse. And guess what? They're doing it just like humans. Some doubters might say "hey,are you sure?...i mean maybe you didn't get a good look...maybe you were mistaken." My answer to them is simple: it was in 3D.

I probably learned some other lessons over the past few months, but I felt like these were the most important ones. Hopefully law school will stop chipping away at my soul and I'll be able to get back to posting on a more regular basis.

No Sex in the Study Room

Having intimate relations in the study room is an obvious breach of duty to those students who have "domiciled" themselves in the library. But to many, it's a strong desire passed down from the exhibitionist ways of our forefathers (James Madison wasn't called His Little Majesty just because of his height). Thankfully, some caring students took it upon themselves to post the following sign in all the library study rooms - reminding us not to give in to our deviant past.


Covered containers are totally not sexy.

Undergrads and the Continued Demoralization of the Law Library

If God ever decided to subject the Law Library to the 10 plagues he would probably replace swarms of locusts with undergrads. Yes, not too long I was an undergrad myself. But I like to think I was at least a somewhat respectful one. These undergrads have no tact and have progressively shown less and less concern for the studious aspirations of us law students. A few common personalities have made it especially hard to concentrate and are definitely worth noting.

The Muncher - Even though the "No Food or Drink" sign is posted right next to her, this seemingly privileged girl munches away on her barbecue flavored corn nuts. They are probably the loudest food ever created. Not too mention the most caloric. I can't help but hope she has a few cavities on the way.


The Headphone Kid - Did someone bring a boom box into the library? Oh wait, its just the kid sitting next to me listening to Akon on his headphones at max volume. If it's unpleasant for me, I can't even imagine how loud it must sound to him. This kid must really be trying to escape. But I mean, who could blame him with the Muncher sitting in plain view. Still, it's a common courtesy to make sure those around you can't hear whats coming out of your headphones. But whatever, listen to your loud "rap" music all you want. In 5 years it won't be headphones in your ears.

The Attractive Girl - Oh god you are beautiful. Your leggings and ugg combo is almost too much for me to handle. Please don't sit across from me, please. For the love of..ah no..don't...you did. Now I'm definitely not getting any work done. Thanks, and uh, don't mind the staring.

The Cell Phoner - Another blatant disregard for clearly visible signs. Is the 20 foot walk to the cell phone area that much of a hassle for you? It was bad enough that I had to endure your Kenny Chesney ringtone while you decided if you wanted to talk to whoever was calling you, but come on, your actually drowning out the Akon music next to me. And please, you're in America, speak in English.

Thong Girl - Everyone knows this girl's thong is not on display by accident. It rises about 5 inches above her sweatpants that read "pink" across the butt but do not have the color pink anywhere. Her shirt is conveniently sliding up her back, freeing her love handles to hang over her thong. Thankfully, they cover most of it up, doing the job her sweatpants should have been doing in the first place. This girl is truly a plastic surgeon's wet dream.

The Discman is Still Alive!!!

Today, as I struggled to make it to class with my book filled backpack that would have given even a marine a difficult time, I spotted a majestic glimpse into my past: a kid with a discman. My first thought was to run up to him and ask how many seconds his anti-skip was. But he seemed happy...content with his choices in life...enjoying the everyday simpleness of compact discs. I envied him. I knew he had a 60 cd holder case in his backpack, ready at any moment to switch from Nirvana to any one of his other early 90's rockers.

But this change had to be a wise one...a well thought out one. This discman fellow does not live in the age of switching from Jay-Z to Pearl Jam to Miley Cyrus with the press of a button. When he makes his music choice, he has to be committed for the next 40-60 minutes to one style...one band...one album. I kinda miss that.

A Series of Unfortunate Events.....In the Bathroom Part II

Ok - time to wrap this bathroom escapade up.

I need to decide what choice to make - do I do the poop walk over to the other stall or do I get on my elbows and do the military crawl to the other stall. First things first, I slide my backpack under barrier to the other stall, just to get the ball rolling. (I really need to find a substitute word for stall. I just used it like 10 times in two sentences)

After some internal debate I decide I've gotta do the military crawl. As I start making my way to the ground I notice a wall mounted dispenser full of those toilet seat covers. HALLELUJAH! I've never used those things before (I like the all natural feel) but right now these toilet condoms are a godsend. I take out three and stuff them in my boxers, pull up my pants, and scurry to the other stall. I make it in without anyone else coming in. MISSION: accomplished.

Well, so I thought. The whole situation gave me a "nervous stomach" and required me to get right back to business. Thankfully I have two full rolls of toilet paper this time. I'm thoroughly enjoying the security of this knowledge when someone else comes in. Please don't go in the stall next to me, my original hell on earth. Of course, the guy goes right in. What I am suppose to do? I'm obligated to tell him there's no toilet paper. It wouldn't be fair for me to let him suffer the same fate as I did.

I learn over and say "Hey man, I know this is kinda..." Mid sentence, because I had leaned forward, the toilet automatically flushes (I hate that! You will flush when I'm good and ready!!) Oh man, this just got awkward.

Guy: Uhh what? are you uhh talking to me?
Me: Yea sorry. I thought I should tell you there's no toilet paper in there. I just had a very unpleasant experience.
Guy: Uhh I'm just taking a piss man.
Me: Well, somebody is insecure

Ok...I didn't actually say that last line, but it definitely popped in my head.

A Series of Unfortunate Events.....In the Bathroom

Bathroom etiquette has always fascinated me to a disturbing extreme. Ever since I was a young lad I had dreams of pursuing a highly successful and accredited career in the psychology of the bathroom. Now that I'm in law school I'm not sure that dream will ever be fulfilled...unless of course Bathroom Law becomes an accepted area to practice.

One particular day, a few weeks back, I had quite a few bathroom etiquette issues within one 30 minute time period. To make matters worse...this was my first official "extended stay" at a law school restroom.

Ready...Set...Poop!

Its 9:45 am. I just took my last bite of my bagel and cream cheese and washed it down with the remains of my 32 ounce D&D coffee. This can only mean one thing: It's not going to be long before they both return the favor.

My stomach begins the oh so familiar rumblings of an ensuing battle and I know its time to make it to the bathroom. I'm excited though. This will be the first time i get to go #2 in a law school restroom. From what i hear, they're quite comfortable. I check out the 3rd floor bathroom first. Crap, someone is at the urinal...I don't know why but im filled with self consciousness and don't want them to see me go into the stall. Actually...maybe im more worried about what they're hear after I go in the stall. I make an executive decision and move up the 4th floor, the least occupied in the building.

The decision paid off. As I open the door the motion sensor lights go on. I'm alittle surprised not to hear some robot-esque voice greeting me and welcoming me to my kingdom. At this point my stomach isn't waiting much longer but i still have a decision to make: there are two stalls in the bathroom, one of which is a regular stall and the other is one of those supersized stalls but with a handicapped seat. I never understood why those seats are so far off the ground. I guess so handicaps don't have to pull themselves up so far when they're done their business. I just like them because i can dangle my feet and sing tinkle tinkle little star while I'm sitting on my throne.


Without much hesitation, I pick the bigger stall. Buckle off..zip...sit down...ssss..plop...plop...sss..plop...uh oh...BOOOOOM SHAKALAKA! Oh my, my stubborn stomach is way too spoiled with all that starbucks i've been putting into it. Must not have been happy with D&D. This toilet could probably sue me for intentional infliction of emotional distress after the abuse I just put it through.

At least it was a quick one. Maybe I'll even have time to get some more studying in before class. I reach to start the dreaded wiping process when I'm suddenly struck with an immense amount of fear and apprehension. I've just been thrown into everyone's worst nightmare...there is literally no toilet paper. NOTHING. WHAT DO I DOOO!

After a few minutes of strategizing, interspersed with intense pleading to god, I realize I have two options. One - I can walk out of my stall into stall next to me (on my left). But there's no way I can pull up my pants without solidifying my discomfort for the rest of the day. Two - I can do a military crawl to the other stall.

Uh oh..the time in my study room is up. I guess this blog will have to be a two-parter.

Free!

Everybody loves free stuff. I mean heck, I check the free section of craigslist at least once every other week. Over the course of my first week at law school I received a ridiculous amount of free stuff. Some of it will definitely be put to use in the near future...the rest was instantly thrown into either the trash or my second favorite place to dispose of useless items: under the bed. Anyway, here's a list of the everything I received for free so far, in ascending order of usefulness.

Variety of hand bags - One, i'm not a chick. Two, i'm not gay. Yea, I'm fashionably conscious but I'm not gonna be spotted toting around a hand bag. If i do, I figure I can't hold someone liable for punching me in or around the genital area. Thanks, but no thanks. You've just added to the landfill under my bed.

Pens - I mean come on, everyone needs more pens. I snagged two. I saw someone grab a whole handful off the table...it was nice to see an opportunist at work.

School of Law t-shirt - I still haven't taken this out of the "crap i dont care about" pocket of my backpack. There's a slight possibility I will wear the shirt during daylight but more than likely it'll be used as a gym shirt or for other purposes which may or may not be appropriate to say aloud.

Breakfast - Muffins, bagels, coffee, donuts...every day during the week. What more can you ask for? Well for starters, some damn creamcheese would have been nice. Go big or go home.

Lunch at Steven Starr - This actually is happening tomorrow. My faculty mentor is taking myself and a few other students to POD, the University City Steven Starr restaurant. Bang-a-rang

School of Law Sweatshirt - Unlike the t-shirt, this will definitely get some use. Plus the fact that is says "law school" lets those acquaintances who are still in undergrad know that I did in fact graduate and am not in fact enrolled as a super senior. I definitely said fact too much in this paragraph.

Beer - Three out of the five orientation days I got to drink on the school's tab. It was a great idea on their part. Every time I started questioning my decision to attend The School of Law they conveniently had an event with free flowing alcohol. The professors encouraged us to have a "good time". Hell, they were having the best time out of anyone. Though I'm no longer questioning my desire to be at the Law School, I am questioning whether my liver will survive the three years until I graduate.

First week of Law School: What I learned

It's been an interesting week. Law school orientation is half way through and I've definitely learned some important things as my first week as a law student winds down. Here's what i consider to be the top 5 pieces of information I gained so far.

1. Backpacks: Not cool. Supposedly its all about the messenger bag. I'm not sure I can pull it off.

2. Ethics: If enough money is at stake, feel free to push the envelope. You gotta make a living somehow.

3. That guy (or that girl) - There is someone in every class who will raise their hand at every opportunity. They're called gunners. You just know they are gunning for the Student Bar Association. Best defense?...gossip about them relentlessly

4. Drink. I gotta dedicate this one to a third year (rising 3L as us law students call it)I met on Monday. He made it very clear. If it wasn't for alcohol, he wouldn't have made it as far as he had. He could have been in the top 10% of his class if he had never gone out. But this would have resulted in suicide. Instead, he went out to the bars frequently and is now in the top 30% of his class. Its refreshing to see someone with priorities.

5. Google every single case. Also advice from the 3L...after his 6th beer.

What to Wear on an Interview - Part III

I know I know...I thought this metrosexual blog series was over too. I mean it doesn't even really make sense for me to write about interviews, considering I'm going to law school and won't even be on an interview in the next three years. That's why I'm going to shift the focus from guys to gals. Its dangerous, I know, but i cant help myself after spotting the most horridly dressed woman on her way to an interview. She had those dress pants that cover pretty much the entire shoe and look like they at some point belonged to a pot smoking, bare-chested, hippy love beast. There have been a few sightings of hovering Delorians, so that could explain their untimely existence. She also had a white shirt which, although tucked in, overflowed with excess fabric.

Now how did I know she was on her way to an interview? I mean, hey, she could have been on her way to a casting call for MTV's Made: "I want to be a Continual Disappointment to My Parents". But she carried with her the one item which confirmed it was indeed an interview - the padfolio. You just know that thing was stocked to the brim with resumes that her interviewers would later be playing office basketball with. Good thing she made sure to get the most expensive paper the print shop offered. It makes those cross cubicle shots a lot easier. Anyway, the following is my amateur opinion on what a woman should wear on an interview. Please feel free to cross reference with Vogue, Cosmopolitan, or Elle.

I guess the best place to start would be the suit. If a woman's ever in doubt, she should always go with a suit. Its hard not to look good. The most important decision when it comes to the suit is, of course, pants or skirt. How ever shall this epic decision be made? Well, its quite simple actually. Unless you plan on doing cartwheels into the interview room, for the love of god wear a skirt. A skirt lets the interviewer know a woman is confident as such and self-assured in her ability to think outside the male monomaniac box. Whoa, big word. Many companies understand that women are more capable problem solvers than men (that's what my industrial psychology teacher told me at least) and will seek out those interviewees who express the most confidence in who they are.

Whats the best length of the skirt, she asks? It really should be kept between the top of the knee and four inches below it. You can definitely creep a bit longer (I know some girls have this weird issue with their calves) but it just needs to fit snug. Not tight, snug. I saw countless girls with super tight skirts come in to interview at my last co-op position. While it wasn't a horrible experience for me by any means, I never did see any of them again, much to my chagrin (Side note: I was in kinkos last night and the lone employee used the word chagrin in passing dialogue. I was impressed and promised myself I would use it at some point. Im usually not good at keeping promises, so I'm quite happy with myself right now). But back to the issue at hand. Whats even worse than a tight skirt is one that hangs loose. You know what they say...a loose skirt is a loose mind. Also, one of the girls who actually got the intern position told me she would sit in front of a mirror before leaving for an interview. This would give her an idea of what the interviewer will see or more importantly, what they wouldn't see. In terms of color, keep it simple and professional; blacks, navys, and grays are all great choices. I’m a big fan of a grey suit with a very faint plaid pattern. It gives me tingles.

And finally, when it comes to cleavage...less is more.

Im feeling pretty confident with my promise keeping abilities, so i hereby promise this will be the last entry in What to Wear on an Interview. To my first, and unfortunately probably not last, attempt at blogging fashion advice - I lay you to rest. Please do not haunt me at some point down the road as I suspect you will. And if for some reason blog heaven is the same as dog heaven, tell buck I miss him.

Yep...I talk to my blog posts.

Random Rambles

Though the weekend was filled with shananigans, I unfortunately ended it without a decent story to blog about. I was tempted to write about the girl who both spit on me and called me ugly within a 5 minute time span, but I've already verbally told that story to the only people who really read this blog anyway - Ryan and my parents.

So instead, I will use this post to discuss a few things which have been on my mind, but do not warrant a full entry to themselves.

Double Dipping - No, I'm not talking about that half eaten nacho that would taste so much better if you could just sneak in one last dip in the salsa. I'm talking about wearing the same shirt twice in one week. This use to be a huge no no for me as I was guaranteed to run into the same girls throughout the course of the week. Even though these run-ins may have only lasted a minute or two, it was not a chance I could take. But since graduating college, I'm spending nights all over the place - thursdays in the city, fridays in the burbs, saturdays at someones house. Its great...I've realized I can wear my favorite shirt (black button down from H&M)as many times as I want. It's like I have chips and salsa all to my self. I can double dip without thinking twice. Heck, I can even quadruple dip. Plus, the only people who see me more than once during a weekend are my close group of friends. If one of them decides to point it out I'll just call them gay and that will be the end of the discussion.

Email Valedicitons - What ever happened to the sincerely's and the best regards? Saying farewell at the end of an email has turned into a free for all. People seriously think they can get away with adding -ly to any word and its an acceptable sign-off. It really drives me crazy. To get back at all of them, I'm going to start using the word of the day as my goodbye. According to dictionary.com today's word is cynosure (http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/). Imagine this email:

Hey Tom,

It was great getting out on the golf course with you. Sorry again for laughing when you fell off the cart and broke your wrist. And sorry also for not believing you when you said it was broken. We should do it again sometime. Tell Marge I said hi.

Cynosurely,

-Scott.

Facebook Quizzes - If you're ever curious how much free time someone has on their hands, go check how many facebook quizzes they've taken in the past week. If it's above two, you can be pretty sure they either A)were home sick B)are a 7-year old girl or C)live a boring life and have no self control. A facebook quiz exists for pretty much everything these days. There's one for what car you'd drive, what entourage character you are, and what fruit most resembles your personality. There's even one that tells you what percentage white or black you are - wow, thats not offensive. A certain ex-girlfriend recently announced on an unnamed social networking site that she took a quiz entitled "The name of the person you will marry" and got "Scott" as her answer. No joke. It wasn't really the answer that surprised me. It was the fact that she let everyone know about it. For some reason the Carolina Liar song, "I'm Not Over", popped into my head. Also, I know she hasn't been home sick in awhile so I guess that leaves one of two options. For my sake, I'm hoping for option C.

A Recap of Yesternight's Winning Convos

Last night wasn't anything special. But i took pleasure in a few particular conversations. In all reality, my brain is only functioning at 3% today, and repeating conversations seems like a good way to get another post up without much effort.



Set up: My couch
Breezy: Dude it would suck to be a girl and have a period.
Me: Seriously
Breezy: What's the traffic looking like on I-76
Me: Let me check....OK, her flow is looking pretty good.
Breezy: Gross

Set up: A group of us are in the outdoor area of the bar.
Daewoo: What beers are on special tonight?
Waitress: $3 miller lites and PBRs
Me: Wait, the bartender said it was $1 PBRs. Are you new here or something?
Waitress: That's just what they told me, I'm sorry.
10 minutes later
Breezy: What time is the incubus ticket giveaway?
Waitress: It's happening at midnight.
Me: Then why does it look like that radio guy is pulling out a name now?
Waitress: Oh..umm..yea..I guess they are doing it now
Me: Strike two
Usually after banter like this with a waitress it would be easy to get her number. But if her waitressing abilities are any indication of what kind of person she is, I want nothing to do with her or her number.

Radio Guy: Hey, I'm really sorry you guys didn't win the incubus tickets and the miller lite VIP passes in which you'd be able to consume as much beer as you liked. But here, have this SAW trilogy DVD.
Daewoo: Are you kidding me??

Set up: At the bar I strategically position myself next to a cute blonde. The bartender is making her mixed drinks.
Me: They always skimp on the liquor don't they.
Blondie: Yes! It's so annoying
Me: Why don't you just get beer?
Blondie: All they have for $1 is PBR but the only beer I drink is yuengling.
Me: You sound picky. Picky and cheap. But I like your choice in beer
Blondie: Well...uh...thanks. That's why I never go to frat parties...the beer is like water and the guys are just as tasteless.
Me: Yeeeeaaaaa

Set up: Daewoo and myself are sitting on my porch. A girl, hereby referred to as Dumb Girl, who had attempted to verbally harass us a few hours ago walks by.
Daewoo: Hey you, what are you looking at?!?!
Dumb Girl: Shut up!
Daewoo: Come up here
For some reason this girl actually listens and comes up to the porch.
Daewoo: Look at your sandals. What they heck are they. Are you trying to be Egyptian or something?
Dumb Girl: Ugh! You are such a racist.
She storms away.
Daewoo: What kind of racist am I?!?!

Capital Offense

Washington DC: our nations capital - where laws are made, national decisions executed, and where our history resides. It's also where lies are told, where bums overrun the streets, and where husbands cheat on their wives. As you might suspect, I'm not a huge fan of the District. But when my dad planned an impromptu family trip to the Air and Space museum this past weekend, I put my feelings aside (that doesn't happen to0 often) and figured spending some time with the fam would be a good change of pace.

On the way down we hit major traffic on 95 south. For those who don't know me well, i feel a certain connection with this road. We have a bond. And it hurt that it didn't forewarn me of the impending sea of brake lights. Coming to a complete standstill, I grab my dad's iPhone to find an alternate route. 1 hour and 8 roads later I had a new found hatred for the iPhone map application firmly cemented in my head. Sure, it has GPS and a traffic tracker. But if it doesn't have a suspiciously sexy woman with a British accent telling me exactly where to go, I'll stick to the old school paper maps.

We roll into the Chinatown section of DC around 9:30pm and immediately head to a restaurant - my dad and my sister so they can get proper nourishment; me to get proper alcoholic hydration. We get seated at a window booth which I'm very excited about since its such a great spot to people watch. But my excitement quickly turned to dread as I notice a bum sleeping on a bench approximately 8 feet from our window. Great...this is gonna be an easy meal to eat. I sip my beer, which I let the waitress pick out for me. Note to self: When in doubt stick with the basics - miller lite, bud light, and yuengling. This waitress' taste in beer is worse than bret michaels' choice in women. I'm concerned that she has some yet to be discovered oral disease which causes her palette to function like a feral dog's.

After dinner I drop my dad and sister off at the hotel and visit a friend who lives in Arlington. We go to a bar which use to be a auto body shop. It was actually kinda cool. The first thing I notice are the copious amounts of license plates lining the establishment. The second thing I notice is the staggering amount of attractive people. This confirms my pre-existing belief that if you travel outside of Philadelphia in any direction people become progressively more attractive. If you travel to the East, there's the added benefit of also becoming exponentially more trashy. Sadly, I am too wrapped up in reminisces of past fraternity shenanigans to formulate a decent plan of approach. I go to bed having relived years of past experiences but failing to create even one new story. This is not something I like to occur often.

My alarm goes off at 7:45. I had promised my Dad I'd be back by 8:15 and its about a 30 minute drive. No snooze button for this guy. I hustle out of my friends apartment, jump in the car, and head out onto I-66 West. Here's a timetable of the events that occured from that point on.

8:00am - After 15 minutes of doing 80 mph it hits me that I definitely should have seen my exit by now. I get off the highway, get back on, and slow my speed to 60 mph.

8:20am - I pass my friends exit. There's no way I missed the exit AGAIN. Maybe im just confused and its Route 234 instead of Route 267. That could make sense

8:30 - I head back west and get off on Route 234. This road has street signs and I specifically remember the correct road being a highway.

8:31 - I make an aggressive u-turn and get back on I-66 West.

8:35 - I call my Dad. His phone is off.

8:55 - BJ's wholesale on my right. Definitely don't remember that. I exit and get back on I-66 east.

8:57 - Call my dad again. His phone is still off. I try looking up the hotel's phone number on my blackberry. My phone dies. Manic yelling ensues.

9:05 - I decide to try another exit. Route 160. Desperation is kicking in.

9:06 - Street lights again. Damn it...I am officially lost in an unfamiliar city.

9:08 - Disregarding whatever manhood I have left, I leave my balls on the dashboard and get out at a gas station to ask directions.

9:10 - A biker gentleman tells me I need to keep on I-66 East and I will definitely hit Route 267. I feel like I'm going crazy.

9:25 - It starts to pour. I'd rather be navigating an underwater mine field without goggles than driving in this.

9:35 - I end up back at the Washington Monument...which is about 7 exits past my friends. I try and summon the spirits of Lincoln and Washington for guidance. It doesn't work.

9:45 - Back on I-66, I take an exit I've already taken before and pull into another gas station.

9:47 - The attendant finally says something that makes sense. The exit for Route 267 is actually the same exit for I-495 (which i passed like 8 times). I know exactly where it is! I think I might be saved!

9:55 - I take the exit for I-495 and badda bing badda boom, signs for 267. Why didn't they have these earlier?!?!

10:20 - I pull up to the hotel and do a Dale Earnhardt turn into the parking space. I see a police man outside. Oh no...my dad must have called the police after he couldn't get a hold of me. I mean I'm over 2 hours late. He must have thought I was lying in an ally somewhere...bruised and beaten...maybe even sexually abused.

10:22 - I walk past the cop and overhear him talking about a fender bender in the hotel parking lot. I guess the universe doesn't revolve around me.

10:25 - I walk in the hotel room and my dad and sister are watching TV. They just thought I had overslept.

We leave pretty much immediately for the Air and Space museum after I get back. I don't even have time to shower. But the museum turns out to be pretty cool and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. They even have a plane that flew from LA to DC in 1 hour 4 mins. Impressive, right? Here's a picture of it.


After a delicious lunch at Mcdonalds (interestingly the ONLY place to eat in the museum) we tour downtown DC for a bit and then hit the road. I never looked back.

DREXYWOOD

For those of you living in a very, very, deep and self-absorbed cave, there is currently a feature film being shot at Drexel University. The movie is untitled and no one knows exactly what it's about. But it stars Reese Witherspoon, Jack Nickolson, and Owen Wilson...so there can only be so many possible storylines.

The "headquarters" of the crew and the set is at a building called the Armory. No, there is not a stockpile of M-16s inside, but it is where Drexel's ROTC students do whatever it is that they do (all we know about them is they dress funny and typically smell of sweat, mud, and broken egos). Anyway, this fully demonstrates the screwed up priorities of our country. The university kicked out our country's reserve soldiers from their home base in order for a damn hollywood movie to be filmed. God help us if Mahmoud Ahmadinejad decides its time for a full out war with the west.

Even worse are all the trailers for the stars of the movie lined up and down the streets, causing approximately 86 near accidents a day. Its crossed my mind to visit these trailers late in the night and leave the stars a note or two. Here's a few potential ideas:

To Jack: "Is it emasculating to know that the same guy who had on screen sex with a man did a better performance as the Joker than you?"

To Owen: "On behalf of the Jewish community, thank you. you have single handedly proven that large, crooked noses are not specific to those of Jewish descent"

To Reese: "Please mother my child"

Having Hollywood come to Drexel isn't all bad though. The movie is doing wonders for the University's lunch truck community. I've never seen Lucky Star, Pete's Lunchbox, and Memos so busy during the summer. It wouldn't surprise me to see "Reese ate here" signs popping up in the near future.

The reality of a movie being filmed on Drexel's campus hit hard a few nights ago when Owen Wilson was spotted playing tennis on the Drexel courts. I was sitting in my living room watching the best show on TV - deadliest catch - when I get a text saying Owen Wilson is playing tennis at Drexel. Naturally, I threw my shoes on, grabbed my keys, and ran down to the courts. By the time I got there there was already a huge crowd assembled around the entire court. People watched from their porches. People climbed on their rooftops. I felt like I was at Wimbledon. But no...all this excitement was for a second rate, frat pack movie star who tried to kill himself on more than one occasion. Like does someone who has starred next to Jackie Chan and Eddie Murphy really deserve this much attention? I soon realized how ridiculous this scene was and at how quickly I had become apart of it. So, I returned home, ashamed, and put on Entertainment Tonight in hopes of being exposed to some real stars. But I did find a few pictures of Owen's tennis match on facebook the next day. So here they are, compliments of Monica Thompson, whoever she is.





I think the only way to end this entry is with a quote from Owen himself regarding his acting ability:

"I`m not going to play a guy with MS or a guy in a wheelchair. I can play a dramatic character, certainly, but I`m not the real chameleon-type actor who, you know, changes his voice and everything."

A Pointless Video

Enjoy

A Quick Note on the Most Ridiculous People Alive

Who are they? Engaged women on their bachlorette party...and all their friends, especially the married ones. They have no limits, no morals, no sense of public interest. Usually it's the women that give their soon-to-be husband a verbal lynching before the poor soul embarks on his last night of "freedom". But after the two bachelorette parties myself and my group of friends saw this weekend, I realized this was just a cover-up so the bride-to-be could act as outlandish and irresponsible as Doug from the Hangover.

The first party I ran into was at a club in Old City. There was about 8 girls in the group and not one of them was dressed like a normal human being. One looked like she had just gotten back from a face painting convention. Another had a forearm sized light-up bowling pin around her neck (I asked her what it was for and her response was "baaaaaalls". I immediately exited her general area). But the bride-to-be took the cake. She had on some assembly of clothing that resembled a cracked-out homeless ex-stripper from the 80's. All I can say is that it made my eyes burn.

After getting some degrading comments in, we decided it was time to leave and made our way to a bar down the street. We walk in and guess what...thats right, another bachelorette party. Though they were dressed like normal people, I soon realized it was only a disguise. This group made the first party look like Rhodes Scholars. They danced like it was their last night on earth and that Michael Jackson (too soon?) would be meeting them at the pearly gates. At one point one of the girls dropped a martini glass on the floor and it shattered. Without an ounce of shame she threw her clenched fist in the air and screamed "wooooooo". Her friends also joined in on the war cry. It was intense. Mel Gibson would be proud. But me...I was officially scared. These girls had no rules. They lived above the law.

After making my rounds through the bar I spotted the bride. She was right in between the two married girls who were kissy kissy with people I may or may not have been associated with. To my surprise, she seemed to be the most normal of the group. She even had a cute little vail on. I started walking up to congratulate her when i noticed that there were little unidentified objects stuck in her vail. She turned too quickly and i wasn't able to tell what these objects were. So, like the gentleman that i am, I go up to her and say,

"excuse me, I think there is something stuck in your vail".
"hehe, oh you mean these?" She turns around to display her vail.
I choke on my beer. I'm staring at at least 15 little penises hooked on to the one piece of cloth that is suppose to be a symbol of innocence and beauty! What the heck is this. I know her fiance sure as hell didn't approve of this.
"why are you wearing that"
"oh you know. its funny. my friends got it for me"
"your friends sound classy"

The entire time we talked I wondered how much I would pay her bridesmaid to switch the real vail with the penis vail on her wedding day. The in-laws faces would be priceless. Soon after the conversation me and my group of friends left with a new fear and respect for the unpredictable women of marriage. Lucky for us we did not run into any more bachelorette parties. If I ever see one again I will probably do a nice paced jog in the opposite direction.



My concluding remarks:

If what I've seen of bachelorette parties is true, I might have to let my girlfriends set up my bachelor party.

Married men spend a significant amount of time with their homeboys, but typically keep their emotions on the inside. Eventually they will suffer from a serious emotional meltdown, most likely directed at their wife. On the other hand, Married women talk about their emotions on a fairly regular basis, but keep all that "girls night out" energy bottled up. But when they do go out, its a meltdown...and most likely directed at every man except the one she's married to.

I am hiring a private investigator for my fiance's (i love you, whoever you are)bacherolette party. A slideshow of his findings will be shown at the wedding.

A Variety of Mediocre Happenings

It hasn't necessarily been the most exciting two days, but they certainly have not been dull.

Thursday Afternoon (morning in unemployed verbiage) - Josh and I decide that we need haircuts and lucky for us, we had recently purchased a hair cutting kit from CVS (complete with 8 different settings!). I shave josh's head first and i must say, it looked spectacular. I set the bar pretty high for josh, but he hardly even got off the ground. This confirmed my already existing belief that people over 200 pounds should not be allowed to cut hair. Think about it, would you want someone with Michelin man hands holding a sharp object three inches from your head? I mean maybe if you're into S&M and therefore an inferior human being, but most of us normals would be afraid to lose an ear. And lets be honest,loosing an ear by way of scissors definitely wouldnt be as cool as getting it mike tysoned. I ended up shaving my own head. It kinda felt like i was an mighty warrior with equally strong moral character getting ready to fight for some cause i deeply believed in. Apparently that cause was Real World reruns on MTV.

Thursday Night - Myself and Ryan go to the TLA for an event called Amsterdam Live. I heard about it on philly2night.com, a site where frat boys and drunk sluts go to figure out evening activities in the greater Philadelphia area. I usually avoid events like this but the claim of free amstel light was too much to pass up. I had to see if it was true. and indeed it was. It would have been priceless to see the look on the guys face who came up with the saying "nothing in life is free" as I was pounding down my 7th "complimentary" beer.
After about an hour of standing awkwardly, two amstel light girls, one white and one asian, come up to us and ask to take a picture. The asian gets in the middle and the white girl takes the picture. I see them repeat this process a number of times with similar groups of guys, all with the asian in the middle. I feel bad for the white girl. I doubt she is taking the pictures because she was a photography major. It must be hard to compete with busty asians.
The first band comes on. Its someone I've never heard of before - Mr. Hudson and the Library. But damn, they are killing it and their lyrics are really hitting me hard. Like I'm getting emotional. I give Ryan a hug
While the band was playing, an asian kid with a three foot high mohawk starts breakdancing. he's good. really good. and i hate him for it. i hate him because he's one of those kids that always has to be the center of attention. i hate him more because he gets that attention so easily.
The next band comes on. I want to kill myself. The lead singer is a 40 yr old female, red hair, with saggy everything. She is wearing what looks like a mix between a little red riding hood costume and a dominatrix outfit. They play some song about taking off your clothes and she jumps in the audience and tries to make people undress. Im pretty sure crap like this was going on in Gomorrah right before fire and brimstone destroyed it all. I gotta hand it to her though...she was able to make some 300 pound black dude take his shirt off. it was one of those situations where EVERYONE in the room is embarrassed. Ryan and I chug our beers and quickly exit the building.

Friday Morning - Decision time for me. Do I go to Widener Law School and expose myself to the State of Delaware (or Hell for short) or do I go to Drexel Law and suffer through another 3 years of being a Dragon. Money is the root of all evil and apparently its also the root of all decision making. Drexel gave me more money so the choice wasn't too difficult. At least I'll still have a shot at bumping into that cute pre-junior I always saw at the library. Maybe now that I'm a law student she will talk to me.

Friday Night - Ryan comes over to watch the phillies and we start drinking beer. The game gets rain delayed so I do what I always do when its just me and ryan drinking together - start texting ex-girlfriends outlandish things. I know its not right, but it makes things more interesting and makes me feel loved
Around midnight we head down to New Deck to meet up with my roommate and a few other people. We sit at their table and I need a beer. I turn around and see the waitress and for some reason the first things that comes out of my mouth is "hey toots". I didnt even know toots was in my available vocabulary storehouse. She gave me a look of disdain and I instantly promised her an 80% tip. After a few beers we move to the bar and I realize the DJ is playing crappy music and this upsets me. I tell him to change it and he doesn't even acknowledge my presence. this upsets me even more...and i am somewhat drunk. So i tell him he is a failure at life, probably will be single for a very long time, and that its not cool to put your headphones over one ear. My friends decide its a good time to leave. I probably won't be going back to that bar anytime soon.

Lost in Textlation

It's happened to us all before. The long, gut-wrenching wait for a respond to a text message. Why is it taking so long? Maybe they are in the bathroom...but that's usually one of my favorite places to text. maybe they put their phone down and forgot about it...but that would be rude right in the middle of a conversation. Or maybe, which is what I was afraid of, something got lost in textlation. That sly remark...a sarcastic comment...or even just an unusual abbreviation...it went over their head and my seemingly witty text made no sense to them. Might have even made them angry

I just don't understand. The list of emoticons are growing each and every week. I mean I think its quite possible in the next hundred years our written language might eventually evolve into a series of smiley faces. Not that I have any issue with the smiley faces, since they do have a strange way of making you feel good inside. But im disappointed there isn't an emoticon or abbreviation for sarcasm. I'm a sarcastic dude a lot of the time...and I feel my sarcasm via text is typically lost somewhere along the journey from my phone, to the tower, to their phone. This has ruined a few potentially good text convos and I'm close to completing eliminating sarcasm from my texting efforts.
Worse than a failed sarcasm is a misunderstood abbreviation. Not only will this end a potentially great convo, but it could lead to a totally awkward and confusing one. Here's an example. A common abbreviation within my group of friends, and i believe others, is "mos def", meaning most definitely. Usually most people will catch on to this, but as the following text convo with an anonymous girl shows, the meaning can sometimes get lost...

Me: Hey there tiger
Girl: Oh heeeey where are you??
Me: Somewhere fun. You should come
Girl: I would but Stacy has already thrown up on three different street corners and i need to get her home. Hang out tomorrow?
Me: Mos def
Girl: Oh what time is the concert?
Me: concert?
Girl: Mos def
Me: the rapper?
Girl: Yea you just said you were seeing him
Me: No I didn't
Girl: umm yes you did :)
Me: Why did you just make a smiley face, that makes no sense. happy puking

Its a shame...I really thought I could enjoy spending some time with this girl. But after this awkward mess of a conversation, I had to delete her number and forget it ever happened.

There is one group of people who never seem to get their messages lost in textlation - parents. Getting texts from my parents stirs up a lot of odd feelings - fear, anxiety, scorn - but the meanings of the messages are never up in the air. They are clear and to the point: "when do u graduate?"..."get a job"..."we like your sister more than you". It's nice having that kind of literal consistency.

In conclusion, I hate the use of "lol". "haha" is where its at.

What to Wear on an Interview - Part II

I almost forget entirely about this little blog series...and that would have been a damn shame. We last left off with an exciting analysis of types of suits and ties to wear on an interview. I can only hope this next segment - shoes and "bling" - will be just as riveting.
They say shoes make the man. While I can’t fully agree with this, they do play an influential role. Here are two important tips to keep in mind when picking out your shoes. First, make sure your shoes and belt are the same color. There are only a few occasions when you can get away with wearing a different color belt, and a job interview is not one of them. Second, wear shoes with laces. I can’t stress this enough. Yes, I know, there are some very dressy looking loafers out there. But lace-ups say “Hey, I go the extra mile with my shoes (no pun intended; no, seriously) and I’ll do the same for your company.”
Now for the icing on the cake. The essential piece of “bling”, to put it in terms of suburban youth culture, is without a doubt a watch. And just a point of information for you music industry majors, I’m referring to analog, not digital. Not like any of you will be going on a legitimate interview anytime soon, but just in case. Back to the point, wearing a watch tells the interviewer that you care about keeping track of time and are cognitive of where you need to be when you need to be there. Not wearing a watch says the exact opposite. And believe me, one of the first things an interviewer does is look for that watch. Your co-op class didn’t teach you that, did it? The type of watch is important as well. Keep it simple. You’re not trying to sail the Atlantic Ocean here, you’re just trying to keep the time and look damn good doing it. I’m personally a fan of anything Movado, but since I have over $100,000 in student loans, I went with the Kenneth Cole Reaction line. Check ‘em out; they are very reasonably priced – www.kennethcole.com.