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.

Deadlines

Bad decisions are all around us. Bernie Madoff and his multi-billion dollar scandal. The Buffalo Bills signing Terrel Owens. The guy I just saw at 7-11 buying a taco taquito instead of a monterrey jack. Just pay attention to the things going on as we walk down the street or drive in our car...hundreds of bad decisions.
But there is a difference between the three examples shared. There is something that harnesses these bad decisions...that allows for the right decision to be made, the second time around. And that is a deadline.

Take the taquito loving freshman from 7-11. His deadline is when he takes the last bite of his fried 750 calorie mid-finals week snack. Once he is finished, he will realize his bad decision and make the correct choice - moterrey jack - the next time he needs to fill his belly with artificially flavored meat and cheese.

Now the Buffalo Bills have a bit of a longer deadline. They signed T.O. to a one-year contract and will have to live with that decision for the duration of the year. They can't just fry him up, stuff him down their throat, and then poop him out like our taquito friend. But, after the year is up, the Bills will have the opportunity to either correct their mistake, by letting T.O. go, or continue with that by signing him to an extended contract and prolonging the bad decision.

Bernie Madoff is a bit different...and will eventually lead to the meat of this blog. Bernie didn't have a deadline for his bad decision. It was a bad decision that could have kept going until the day he died had he not been caught. There was no point in time for him to make him seriously question what he was doing. And thats why deadlines are so important.

As I graduate college, I realize that I, and many of my peers, are crossing one of the last serious deadlines in life. Decisions have to be made with much greater care and thought. In college, there is always the opportunity to start over, after graduation. But in life, such an opportunity does not exist. There's no deadline for getting married. There's no deadline for having kids (besides the abstract biological one). There's no deadline for getting that promotion. That's why decisions hold so much more weight now than they ever did before. You can't graduate life...you can only be enrolled in it.