Her Majesty.....is not pleased

the "tieves" are loose again! oh man do i love a good prison break! though i guess i should be slightly worried since this did happen just a few miles away from where i live.

"The most recent escapes are the third and fourth of their kind in recent years — all of which were made possible by cutting through the perimeter fence that separates the confined prison population from freedom." gee, i wonder how they'll escape next time? it may be time to rethink that fence.

these are big time "tieves" as well: one of them robbed the bat cave! the bat cave restaurant that is, which is probably the most intruiging restaurant name i've ever heard. who knew the armed robbery would later bring them business from people like me! the other was charged with minor stuff like cruelty to a child, child abuse, unlawful sexual intercourse, unlawful possession of an explosive, and murdering a 12 year old. - i mean come-on, a man like that is bound to find his way out of a prison with holes in the fence.

daily news story

bvi beacon story

escape from paradise

i've always been fascinated with breaking out of prison. i feel like in another life i'm suppose to be in prison, trying to get out, a dream i probably share with nobody else. but with so many good movies based around these incredible escapes how can you blame me? shawshank is probably a top 10 movie for just about everyone. cool hand luke is one of my top fives and should be on everyone's, i mean you don't even have to like prison escapes what with paul newman starring. the last castle, the great escape, the rock?! ah, movie prison breaks.

sadly i've been sucked into the tv show "prison break" for the past couple of weeks. i'm not proud of this, at all. now, i probably watch more tv on dvd than just about anyone in this world, but i have my limits. after my crack-like addiction to "alias" years ago i vowed (and put a personal ban) on watching tv shows that suck you in and force you to watch more episodes based on cliffhangers. shows that have all that drama and action packed into 40 minutes that captivate and thrill you and leave you wanting more just feels like some sort of drug to me. 5 minutes after the last episode i contemplate running to the video store to get my next fix disc, yet 1 hour after watching shows like these i could care less (let alone remember) what happens next.

while going through withdrawl and panic attacks from not having the next disc of prison break last week i stumbled upon a real-life prison break to hold me over........right where i live!

admittitdly the prison breaks that happen where i live are nothing like the ones i see on tv shows and movies, they're better! they're better because THEY HAPPEN ALL THE TIME. i'm not even joking: if somehow you actually got caught by our law enforcement officers (virtually impossible in itself) we have a prison for you to relax in before you escape (walk out the front door). those that get caught for rape, murder, or stealing in these islands get locked down, but unfortunately our prison either has an open gate policy or complete fucktards running it. hell, we have officers down here that forget they're the ones that need to PREVENT rape instead of doing it themselves.

so we did catch the escaped murderers from last week, which is good. and by catch i mean we shot one that eventually died and we caught one of the others. one was caught when getting onto a safari taxi, which doesn't make sense since hitch-hiking is so popular in these islands and we don't have any of these signs:



a side effect of researching all this prison escape drama and horror is all the laughs that come with it; which sadly is, well, sad. if you're not from around these parts then do yourself a favor and read a few articles like this one from the st. croix source. when you're done just type "golden grove" into the more articles search at the bottom of the page (i can't make a link work). remember, our virgin island goverment and law enforcement is an absolute joke, we know this and they know this - but if you can't fix it then at least laugh at it, or with it, or something. if you find yourself reading the actual articles then perhaps you'll have the same laughs i did about how our prisoners are somehow able to carry their own guns and sneak microwave ovens into their cells.

*UPDATE* Virgin Island Police Department Dispatcher helped inmates escape!

*UPDATE - TOP SECRET!* "NEARLY 100 INMATES MOVED FROM GOLDEN GROVE PRISON TO A MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON IN THE UNITED STATES" this is top secret, there is no link yet.

*UPDATE* TOOTHPASTE CAP USED IN ESCAPE!

*COMPLETELY UNRELATED!* FATHER CHARGED WITH TAKING DRUGS INTO GOLDEN GROVE PRISON TO HIS SON. it gets better......the father WORKS AT GOLDEN GROVE!

bank error not in my favor

so i went to the bank today. this sounds simple to you but when living on an island this is a huge task involving an incredible amount of patience and time, but mostly luck.

first this involves making sure it is a weekday between the hours of 10am - 3pm.

second you must make sure it is not a monday, thursday or friday (monday is business banking day and friday all the migrant workers that work construction cash their checks and wire money back home, thursdays of course all the employers of these workers are depositing payroll money to cover the checks being cashed on friday). as a side note there are thousands of migrant workers and illegal aliens that work here, meaning the lines at the bank and western union snake out the door and down the streets.



now that you've found yourself on a tuesday or wednesday you're almost in the clear. time to check the bank holiday schedule. you're probably thinking "what holiday would be mid-week?" - well, you have a lot to learn about island holidays. we are not a part of the united states, though i do find it nice that we celebrate the same holidays - july 4th, xmas, new years etc. the problem is that we also seem to celebrate every other holiday known to human kind - we close everything down for holidays like emancipation day, three kings day, d. hamilton jackson day, childrens' carnival parade day, adults carnival parade day, boxing day, united nations day, revolutions day, don't feel like working day, and any other day the governor feels like it. there are some weeks where banks and businesses are closed for the entire week for random holidays. those of you with the pointless knowledge of knowing that it is illegal to close an FDIC insured bank for more than 3 days can stay quiet - we're talking about the virgin islands, nothing is insured down here - especially banks.

so you've found yourself on a wednesday morning with no holidays. great! lets go! - oh but wait one fuck, you just remember that on wednesdays during the summer (isn't it always summer here) the banks close at 12:30. and when i say "banks" i mean that in the smallest plural sense possible. we have 2 banks on the island.

unfortunately today is a day that i need to visit both banks, as we have a business account at one and a checking account at another (the reasoning for this could never be explained in less than 1 million words). however, the first bank i need to visit (conveniently and appropriately named 1st Bank) has what can only be described as the most amazing piece of technology ever brought to our island - a business deposit machine. the machine usually works, and is no more than 40 years old. please note that i did not say "atm" - both banks do have them, but unfortunately this island is not ready for that sort of technology as they never have any money, and when they have no money they shut down, and when they shut down you cannot make regular deposits. now, interestingly enough i'm the only person that owns a business on this island that has figured out how to use this business deposit machine.

typical transaction of mine: upon entering the bank i take about 5 seconds to enjoy the a/c and count how many people are standing in lines for a teller (usually easy as there is never more than 1 teller). i'll then put my deposit slip and envelope in the deposit machine (already filled out), let the machine stamp my slip and turn around to leave (all in maybe another 5 seconds). now, keep in mind this is an old machine with a slot to put your deposit and a stamper (nothing digital), and it tends to make a very loud "thump!" when it stamps. also keep in mind that people standing in line have nothing better to do than watch what someone who isn't standing in line is doing just 4 feet away from them, especially when there are loud thumps! the facial expression on all 15 people in line is "wait a minute i've been here 20 minutes! and he's been here 10 seconds! and he's done! and he didn't even have to wait! and!" upon exiting the bank i'll sometimes peer back in just to see how antsy the line gets, or to see if anyone tries to learn what i've just done. hee hee.

with my business banking accomplished at 1st bank i know proceed to scotia bank. my goal for today is to open a saving account. simple right? on the streets of cambridge i can remember opening an account in 10 minutes on my lunch break with just my drivers license. the process here is slightly different. slightly.

i started my quest for a savings account over 2 years ago, and today i think i've finally gathered everything needed. i've been to a teller to ask what is needed to open an account approximately 15 times in 2 years. before you call me crazy consider this:
1) i don't have that bad of a memory.
2) they do not hand out a checklist of all the items needed.
3) each teller has a different idea of what is needed, omitting and adding documents depending on the day or teller you ask - some days i found myself saying to the teller "so you don't need a birth certificate anymore?" teller:"oh, no you need dat too you know" (as if it were obvious).

so today i have with me 15 items of identification and various sorts of letters and awards and shit that is needed to open my account. i know i won't need them all but i feel confident that within these 15 items are the 9 or so that are actually needed. i have my passport, my virgin islands drivers license, my U.S. drivers license (which is illegal to have if you have a V.I. license, but since we're dealing with a canadian bank they either don't care or don't know its illegal - and either way they must have both), social security card, birth certificate (raised seal, not a photocopy), proof of mailing address (2), proof of physical address (2), proof of employment for at least 3 months, minimum $500 (cash only), a letter explaining how you promise them your first born child if its a male, and for extra measure i've brought my V.I. health card.

when i finally get to a teller i explain how i'd like to apply for a saving account. she promptly tells me no, as is custom for any question you ever ask a local west indian. teller: "you need to come back wid every'ting on dis list" and hands me a list. obviously i'm elated that they have finally created a list! but i'm even more excited with what i'm about to do next, as it is a secret enjoyment of mine to get the upper hand of a local west indian trying to best me (which doesn't happen often and this game takes many attempts and many failures as they are very good at making you feel about 2 inches tall). i respond after a brief review of the list with "yes, i have all of those items." she now thinks we're playing a game and tells me that i don't have everything, and even gives a slight laugh. its me that is smiling and her that is starting to get worried as i start to take items out of various pockets (part of my disguise) and set them on the counter. i can see her eyes getting bigger and a worried expression as she starts to realize that maybe i do have everything in order. she even tells me (quite frankly and very quietly) that she's very surprised and very impressed. yes! i've won! until she tells me to go take a seat. i've been in the islands long enough to know that when someone tells you to take a seat (especially in a bank) you're in for a long wait. there is nothing the locals love doing more than making people like me wait.

after an incredibly short wait (1 hour) i'm called into the back office. during my wait i watch as a new resident tries to do what i'm doing today, he fails miserably and the same teller gets her satisfaction from berating him about how it needs to be a raised seal birth certificate. she then looks at me and smiles.

now, please understand that through this same bank i already have a shared personal checking account with my brother (even longer story). also understand that i have an outstanding loan for our business through this bank. obviously NONE of the information for the previous accounts can be simply transferred to start a new account, which is why it has taken 2 years.

the officer helping me is very courteous and even calls me "sir" the entire time. i'm also given a toy brain teaser game to play after 20 minutes of sitting there watching him type things into his computer. even though none of my previous information can be used to open a new account i'm still asked at every new computer prompt if i want to keep my old info. unfortunately they have really old information that has been corrected by my brother and myself about a hundred times already. they've never actually bothered to correct the information on any of these hundred times, as evidenced by our previous employer calling us every month and telling us they have our bank statement (why they send statements to a place of work illustrates a clear picture of how ridiculous they really are). officer: "you still live at abraham fancy?" me: "no, my new address is on one of the two proofs of address i've brought today." officer: "you still have the same mailing address as before?" me: "no, please refer to the 2 that i've brought today"

20 minutes later the brain teaser game is solved. about this time he tells me we're "getting close." and we are now at the worst possible time in the entire process for the power to go out...... so it does. sadly neither of us are surprised, as this happens all the time down here. even worse is that scotia bank does not have its own backup generator that kicks on when the power goes out. worse still is that they have yet to invest or even know about those nifty little computer backup devices that let your computer stay on during a power outage. going even further into the worse still category is that i now try to start a conversation while sitting alone in the dark just to eliminate awkwardness. now, to appreciate this "conversation" you have to understand that local west indians can at times be very frank and very short in answers. i know there will be no actual talking during this power outage, which just makes the situation all the more awkward. regardless i have to try: "so this would be a good time to rob the bank, huh?" so while i want to discuss how perfect it would be to rob the place he just replies "sure would." and there we sit perfectly quietly for what seemed like eternity, just waiting for the power to come back. it was back 30 seconds later.

after 2 1/2 hours at the bank i was back to where i started before i even walked in. taking giant steps backwards prior to making a step forward is a very common situation here. the officer explained that he'd now fill everything out on paper and then transfer it into the computer on a "better day." apparently he was superstitious about trying it again today. for this i didn't have to be there and he told me i could leave - this left me in yet another awkward position: i was positive nothing would be correct if i left, as i had little confidence in him getting everything right when i was sitting with him earlier.

my attempts at telling him i didn't mind staying failed, and i left the bank with my $500 cash sitting on his desk and no saving account in my name. somehow i don't even mind though, you can't set the expectation bar too high here on st. john.

on a related note: http://www.onepaper.com/stjohnvi/?v=d&i=&s=News:Local&p=1201845721

next time on razyboy.com: no really, dealing drugs becomes sophisticated on this island

need help?

there is just one thing different with where i live compared to where you live:

anything that can be done today can certainly wait until tomorrow, and if it can wait till tomorrow than it can certainly wait till next week.

when living on an island in the middle of nowhere, just off of somewhere, its in your best interest to grasp this concept early.

you can call me crab mon

i've hitchhiked over 600 times during the past couple of years, which, if you think about it, is way more than you have. each day i find myself on the side of the road with a finger pointed towards the destination i needed to be 20 minutes earlier. somewhere around 5-7 times a week. that is slightly more than the average for most americans. slightly. i hitchhike that much AND i own a car. well, share a car.

hitchhiking on st. john is quite a bit different than in the states - partly because we use a finger to point in the direction of where we need to go (instead of a thumb) but mainly because people are so friendly and its safe here, and not so safe in the states. case in point: last week i was picked up by the islands most notorious drug dealer, a man who removed a small handgun from the passenger seat so i could sit, in a car that either had way too much blood or ketchup (i couldn't tell) splattered on the ceiling above the rear seats. this looked like the inside of the car from pulp fiction, only it was a low riding honda civic. i mean really, how many drug dealing murderers in the states would ever stop to pick up a hitchhiker?

my 1st hitchhiking experience: picked up at big maho beach as i was walking by a parked truck that looked like it had been parked there in the same spot for 20 years. a shady looking fellow rolled down the window and popped his head out asking if i needed a ride. i stopped and took a few seconds before saying "um, well, definitely not?" - which he took as a yes. i had my doubts as to the ability of the truck to start and actually move, but sure enough he had it started in 20 minutes and off we were to town. during the ride i found out a little more than expected about this fellow: his name was "crab man," he had no desire to ever take another shower in his life, he smoked weed while occasionally looking at the road, and he gave us 50/50 odds of making it to town without his truck breaking down. now, it took me no more than a second to figure out we had less than 50/50 odds, at best i gave our odds of making it alive 50/50, but the real problem was the proposition he gave me concerning my ride: the deal was that if the truck broke down i had to help him fix it (he assured me he had whatever parts we would need in the back). though when i glanced back all i saw was a truck full of aluminum, in empty can form. not being mechanically inclined i didn't understand how beer cans could fix a truck, but this was his truck and i assumed he knew better than i, so i accepted the proposition. the ride to town was uneventful, but only in terms of the truck not breaking down. i found myself steering most of the way while he rolled joints and went into massive coughing fits. unfortunately our island is filled with roads that are all hills, turns, very narrow, and no flats, which makes for difficult driving under normal conditions - but taking off your seatbelt from the passenger seat so you can reach over and drive with someone else controlling the gas is a thrilling experience to say the least. coming down here i knew that the transition to driving on the left would be difficult, and i can tell you first hand you should never try the above for your first experience with driving on the left. we made it to town having tested all embankments and ditches for drivability, and aside from scarring a few donkeys and mongoose into the middle of the road we also made it in one piece, defying all odds previously mentioned.

fortunately this was my worst experience with hitchhiking, and i was glad to get the worst one under my belt right away. while there have been many times i've regretted accepting a ride, none can compare to my first. standing on the side of the road i've seen "crab man" approach me as i wait for a ride about 3 times now, and each time i've immediately pointed in the opposite direction for a ride so he wouldn't stop.

"son, you can call me crab man or crabby, just don't call me late for dinner man."

on a related note: the picture below is interesting because

1) whoever was taking the photo has zero camera skills
2) what they are doing is illegal, right?
3) there are at least 13 people riding in the back of that truck

there are about 30 of these trucks that pull into down each day from construction sites around the island, all headed straight to the ferry dock so they can go home to st. thomas for the night. sitting at the quiet mon watching them pull into town is a sight to see.



next time on razyboy.com: dealing drugs on this island becomes sophisticated.

a mishmash of gas station frustration

something tells me you can't read that sign without laughing:


recent major development on st. john: we have a new gas station. well, let me say that again a different way: we have an old gas station that has made major upgrades and is now open again. this "new" gas station is called e.c. gas.

last summer we had 3 gas stations on the island, which is actually pretty impressive. but then the v.i. government decided to shut one of them down (texaco) and turn it into a "round-about." on june 1st 2006 this station was closed. on this same date one of the other three stations (e.c. gas) decided they would also shut down to make major renovations. perfect timing. this left us 1 gas station on the island - in coral bay, 9 miles from town. the timing of both gas station closings was done in typical st john fashion - "lets just do whatever doesn't make sense." if i'm the gas station that is shutting down to make renovations i'm thinking that i'd find a different time schedule to shut down, i mean why not take advantage of being the only gas station in town for awhile? but then again that would make sense, and nothing on this island makes sense.

it took two weeks (and lots of unhappy residents and tourists) before the government decided that maybe they should choose a different date to construct this roundabout. the texaco station was re-opened and everyone was happy.

new proposed shut down date: june 1st 2007. today (july 7th) the texaco station closed to start construction, and let me explain the process: now that they've shut the station down they're going to immediately start building. and by immediately i mean they're going to start in may '08. you see, the government has yet to send the contract out to bid - they hope to get bids back by feb. '08. construction once begun in may '08 would be completed in may 2010. if you know anything about construction on st john you realize that this is a pipe dream, actually construction might be completed by 2015. this is not a lie or exaggeration.

you have to understand that this texaco station sits in the middle of town, pretty much blocking all entrance and exits to cruz bay. while i agree it needs to be removed i simply don't understand why they are going to spend so much time completely blocking all entrance and exit roads to town. i'm also thinking that if they have yet to even send the contract out to bid that the station could remain open? perhaps close the station the day before construction begins, say 11 months from now? but then again that would make sense, which would be the wrong way to do it.

on a related note that only other gas station in town, e.c. gas........was closed today because they ran out of gas (see picture). if you recall e.c. gas doesn't seem to have the best timing. lets just think about something: say you're the only gas station in town because the other one was forced to close. lets also say that as owner you can buy your gas at the wholesale price of $2.37/gal. from a st. croix refinery and sell it at $4.21/gal. (.07 is tax, and for reference stations in the states make pennies on each gallon sold not dollars). now say you just made some major renovations so that you can take 10 cars at a time. if i'm the owner of this station i'd be ready to count my chickens before they've hatched! i own the only place anyone can buy gas in this town! holy shit! i'm gonna need to buy a couple dump trucks just to bring all my cash to the bank! oh no no no, instead they have some retard running the place that wouldn't be able to find his ass with two hands and a set of directions - which would explain how he picked the most inopportune time possible to not order more gas. remember, st john "we do whatever doesn't make sense"

on st. john we have something everyone in the states can remember but rarely experiences anymore: full service gas. and by full service i mean self serve. at the previous texaco you'd be a fool to wait for the attendant to fill your car with gas. with all the new renovations to the new e.c. gas station came a new way of doing business: self serve and prepay gas! yes! we've been waiting for a completely moronic way of purchasing gasoline on this island! 10 brand new pumps complete with DIGITAL GAUGES! and none of these new pumps have that crazy stupid ridiculous idea that never took off "pay at the pump" feature! oh wait. oh. wait.

so when purchasing gas on st. john you first wait in line to give the attendant your credit card and drivers license or cash, then walk back to the pump, attempt to pump, walk back to the booth because he turned on the wrong pump, wait in line to tell him this, pump your gas, walk back to the booth to wait in line and sign two receipts, then walk back to your car and drive off. whoever thought of prepay gas should be shot dead immediately. need i go into the cost benefits of prepay vs. pay at the pump? st john "we do whatever doesn't make sense"

next time on razyboy.com: remember that scene from zoolander at the gas station? you never know.

living on island time

i live on a rock south of where you're sitting right now.

its warmer here than where you are, and "we're all here 'cuz we're all not there" - or so the saying goes.

i guess i've been here just over 2 years. sometimes it feels like eternity and sometimes it feels like just yesterday that i arrived. i'd say i have a pretty pessimistic view of this island, in that i seem to find many negatives and many many things that frustrate me. the problem is that i still love this place though i'm wondering how many frustrations i can take before i break. some examples of how i'm going to break:



best quote from a U.S. Postal Service employee in st. john, after i asked why we hadn’t received any mail in almost three weeks: “you see mon, it be da slow season now, so da mail be a bit slower dan usual…..mon” - you had to see my face after hearing this.

why am i paying $4.27 for a gallon of gas? in the virgin islands we have no tax on gas so where in the christ is all that extra money going? we have 2 gas stations, and usually one of them has gas. the price per gallon isn'’t advertised anywhere. actually that’'s not true, one of them advertises $1.87 per gallon but i don’t think its been that low all this decade. a typical fill-up goes something like this:

me: “good afternoon sir, can i get a fill-up with regular please?”
attendant: “no problem mon, but we not takin da credit cards today”
me: (taking the last minute to piece together each word so i can understand what he said) “oh, ok, so then i'’ll just take $50 worth. how much is it a gallon anyway?”
attendant: (after looking at my car and sizing me up and down, and hopefully realizing i’m not a tourist) “um, about $4.00 a gallon mon.”

ABOUT $4.00 a gallon?! ABOUT!? how can the price be about $4.00? and why do you randomly not accept credit cards? why do i have to wait days at a time for gas because you won’'t take credit cards? who has $80 in their wallet for gas?

I asked our phone company (Innovative Telephone) why we don’t get a pro-rated monthly charge for all of the outages we have each month. I tell them each month we lose our service every three days or so for a period of 2 –- 5 days. they tell me they can’'t predict outages and that they currently have no refund policy if you lose more than 15 days of service a month. WE HAVE NO TELEPHONE SERVICE FOR HALF THE MONTH, WHAT THE CHRIST ARE WE PAYING FOR!? – not quite as innovative a response as i’d like.

how is our electricity bill $90 a month? we don’t even have electricity most days.

how is it that you can drive with an open alcoholic beverage, yet not without your seatbelt? same issue: why are 12 out of the 12 traffic violations so far this year on st. john violations for not wearing seat belts? i realize there'’s only one stop sign on the island, but nobody (myself included) has ever stopped at it.

number of reported crimes on st. john so far this year: 172
number of solved crimes: 1
side note: they were not happy when i called to congratulate them after i heard of their first solved crime

we have no laws down here. none. we consider ourselves part of the united states yet none of the laws apply. you can do whatever you want whenever you want and never worry about paying the price. charge whatever you want for the products you sell, drink and drive, kill somebody, it doesn’'t matter we have no laws and absolutely no authority.

i propose a new tagline for st. john: st. john, always meeting your expectations. or: st. john, never meeting your expectations. either would be appropriate depending on your positive or negative view on the island in general.

next time on razyboy.com - i meet your expectations

fas-ci-nat-ing

fas-ci-nat-ing adj definition: inspiring a great fucking interest or attraction.

um, yeah.

fucking great interest? yes

fucking incredible attraction? yes

fucking mesmerizing? yes

fucking charming? yes

fucking intriguing, fucking enticing, fucking alluring, fucking captivating.

fucking fascinating.

but all a fucking dream.

awake.

still.

and awake still.

2 hours of lying in bed. fucking thinking. fucking dreaming with your eyes wide open.

go away, keep dreaming, you can never make up your mind.

fas-ci-nat-ing

not quite eclectically speaking

so try this:

open itunes
go to music store
search and purchase the song "alpha beta gaga" by air and rhymefest
listen once

if during or moments after you listen you never once attempted to whistle then i will swear to christ paypal your ass $.99*

i offer this because its impossible to listen and not whistle

so, it turns out the scariest part about picking up and heading down south america way for an undetermined amount of time will be:

1) no ice coffee. (note ice and not iced). if you say iced then "why don't you burn in hell!"
2) no morning becomes eclectic

not having these two items anymore may just turn my world upside down.

to all you bitches drinking ice coffee right now, well, um, in two days i wish i were you.

and to all you bitches drinking ice coffee and listening to morning becomes eclectic right now, well holy shit, a vision of myself doing the same will happen every night in my dream very soon.

but let me tell yoiu somehting that really sucks, still ice coffee related: just 4 days ago i found the best source of ice coffee ever made. "the best jerry, the best!" we're talking the cream of the crop, best i've ever tasted. ever. ever. and starting today i won't have it again until who knows when. forever. if you happen to be traveling through vt sometime then drop me an email and i'll give you d's to 3 bean coffee, trust me it will be worth it. better email me a few weeks in advance though, i'm in the middle of nowhere.

this day 1 year ago i was.

this day 1 year from now i'll be.

but this day next week i'll be sunburned and exhausted.



*should be noted that i'll never actually do that. never swear to christ that is.

sneaky emails

crazy shitsa been been happening in my life since i last updated, but i'll only mention 5 of the 6 things here:

1) survivor 10 ended and holy shit tom won. didn't see that coming.

2) lohan got crazy skinny.

3) lohan got crazy skanky. oh lilo, what happened? please lay off the coke.

4) remember that famous actress i had dinner with? apparently she prefers the shaved look. i do as well. at least i did until i found out we were talking about her head.

5) and, i got an email:

so, you know when you get those emails that have the subject lines filled with something redic like "BARELY 18 CUTE NEIGHBORHOOD GIRL SHOWS ALL ON HIDDEN WEBCAM!!!!!"

don't ever click on them. because they're obviously way older than 18 a scam. but like i always say, you don't know till you try yourself.

so lets say, just for example, that something very much like the following arrives in your yahoo email:

To: raz (razyboy@yahoo.com)
From: Lohan Personal Asst. (yxruia;sldkf@fuckthesesluts.com)
Subject: "LINDSY LOHAN EXCLUSIVE SHOWER WEBCAM!"

now, to most this will look like some spam that slipped by the filter and is now sitting happily in your unread inbox. but it can't be spam because it didn't go to the spam folder. and it can't be spam because who would send lilo spam? so obviously one wouuld have to click on the email, i mean this is lilo we're talking about. everything lilo must be clicked. PLUS, lets not forget (lets not forget dude) that this is from lilo's personal assistant, so it has to be real. has to. be. PLUS we're talking about an exclusive SHOWER webcam. and who other than a personal assistant would have the ability to set-up a shower webcam? i mean honestly, this can't be a fake.

what i WILL SAY is that i don't understand why lilo's personal assistant couldn't spell her employers name correctly. that was a bit odd. a bit.

now lets talk money. how much is something like this worth to a lilo fan? do i hear $20? $40? get real. this is a hidden cam in lilo's SHOWER we're talking about. lets start the bidding at $150 and work from there.

so lets say for example i decide to send the $235 to lilo's personal assistant. and then, for example, lets say that i don't hear anything back......um, ever, for like a month now and counting. lets say so long ago that when i theoretically sent the cash she wasn't all skank yet. lets say. lets just say and be done.

test time

the picture you see above:

a) was taken by me (her camera) moments before we fucked like rabbits.

b) is too sexy to actually think about.

c) is of someone far too young for the likes of me to enjoy.

d) should not be viewed if you're home alone. with a free right hand.

if you selected all of the above then you are correct, but unfortunately you're also retarded, as there is no all of the above option.

-------------------------

lets try something a little harder. the visuals are my bread and butter when it comes to testing. at least i think. the fact that i'm color blind probably only helps me right?. however, i can't see this one to save my life (wait, there is color in teh puzzle below, right?). if you know then please answer in the comments. however, know that if i can't see it myself then its probably a trick question. it has to be. has to. be.

What would be the next picture in this series?

Choose one of the following five:

--------------------------



----------------

on a related subject - shit that just don't seem to be working:

you know when you see this really hot girl when you're walking down the street? you know how there seems to be a new and different and hotter girl every day? you know how when you see her you always have to go up to her and ask her if she'd like to fuck, right then, right there? you know? yeah, well, i've been getting the shut down lately. i can't imagine why.

or

i wish for once i could land ass backwards into a pot of gold instead of face forward into a pile of shit. for once.

dear brad pitt,

yes, yes yes yes yes. it is now ok to date that tomb raider girl. you've been divorced for like 2 weeks now, which in Hollywood time equals about eternity plus 5 years. time to start dating other women that are half your age and just as hot as you think you are.

now, most ladies that meet me probably think "overwhelmingly handsome." i also happen to be absolutely hilarious. and i can't say being creatively wild in the sack doesn't help. BUT. what i don't have is the name brad pitt, which means that there aren't 50 bazillion smokin' ladies out there ready to fuck my brains out simply because my name is brad pitt. your name has +EV, lets start taking advantage of that, yes?

did you forget already that your name is brad pitt? time to do a little name dropping with the ladies around town! for example, this would be all it would take: "hi, my name is brad pitt. brad pitt, hee hee, i even like saying my own name. brad pitt. the brad pitt. that's my name, brad pitt." you see, it doesn't matter what you say, the name alone gives you a license to fuck. and what part of license to fuck are you not understanding? its simple, you walk up to someone young and beautiful and famous and has a name that starts with scarlett and ends with gorgeous. show her your license to fuck card, two minutes later you're laid. you have the card brad, use the damn card.

or wait, hold that fuck just one second. what if the sexiest woman on the planet, the most sexually daring, the badess-ass woman in the world, approaches you? brad, this is ANGELINA FUCKING HOTNESS JOLIE we're talking about. she is just bad, with a capital ass. she is fuck, with a capital now. so what the ass are you waiting for?

explain immediately.


raz

playboy, a review

seriously. if playboy isn’t the best magazine in the world then shoot me now. nothing could be better than seeing a new issue on your doorstep each month. actually, reading it could be better. i don’t know what i did before getting it. actually there has never been a “before,” i’ve always had it. my playboy review:

pictorials – yeah, the women are hot, usually. the "other" pictorials each month? eh, so-so. they’re usually semi-famous babes that we were interested in 10 years ago and are now just hard-up for cash. that or they’re the latest survivor contestant that just got kicked off – speaking of which, i’m still waiting for amber (winner of survivor all-star) to do a pictorial. i guess i shouldn’t hope too much since she’s loaded already - and soon to be more fully loaded when she wins the amazing race.

the features - year in music, year in cinema, the recent push on poker (a full house, david williams). the recent "stolen screams" - edward munch. "sucker with the money" - howard hughes. 2-3 of the 4-5 features deserve a full read.

the playboy forum – somebody that reads this every month please tell me if this is any good. i’ve never had the desire to read any of it and i can’t figure out why. not once have i read it, and i especially won’t read it now that they went from paper to glossy with the pages.

the playboy advisor – i like to spend quite a bit of time studying the sex questions from readers because i have sex so much myself. that or i don’t ever have sex and the issues they talk about baffle me. you decide.

playboy fiction – in general i’m not a fan of most of the new fiction that playboy likes to publish. there have been exceptions though, most notably the new fiction pieces by chuck palahniuk and T.C. Boyle.

playboy fashion – yes i like the nice cars they write about, yes i wish i could afford a new bathing suit that they preview, yes the new technology is interesting to read about, but no, i can’t afford any of it.

playboy interview – far and away the best section each month. always have someone interesting. howard dean, quentin tarrantino, jim carrey, nicole kidman. very simple. very straighforward. simply great.

20 questions – very good, but always leaving you wanting more. i like how they can pick people that are on the verge of becoming famous. usually very cool pictures.

playboy party jokes – some of them are very funny each month, a couple are usually old.

cartoons: favorite is the one before each pictorial, though i can never read your name the way you sign it. most of the others are fairly good.

best playmate of the month pictorial goes to: nichole van croft, tiffany taylor, brooke berry (before she died her hair), and of course karen mcdougal
best playmate of the year: close tie, heather kozar 1999 and karen mcdougal 1998
best playmate of the month that i’ve slept with: stephanie glasson, july 2004
best playmate of the month that i wish i’ve slept with: tiffany taylor
best pictorial: sherilyn fenn (audrey horn from twin peaks) december 1990
best survivor pictorial: duo pictorial of jenna and heidi
most interesting playmate pictorial: karen mcdougal pmoy 1998 issue
simply classic playmate: carol imhof, December 1970. unbelievable.

best interview: jack nicholson in January 2004
too much playboy exposure: pamela anderson (11 playboy covers)
best all around issue: 50th anniversary jan 2004 or december 2001 issue
best 20 questions given to: bill murray (2nd goes to james caan)
best new fiction: guts by chuck palahniuk
best advertisement in an issue: new mini cooper (centerfold-like ad), absolute centerfold, absolute envy and all the “happy anniversary advisements in January 2004 issue, tanqueray ad – distinctive since
best playboy cover: fuck, i can't do this one. far too many close calls.

never been a fan of: sex in cinema issues, football/basketball and baseball preview features each year

always been a major fan of: gala xmas issue, pmoy issue, and the hidden rabbit on each and every cover

biggest part of magazine that i don’t agree with: movie ratings
departments of each issue that i like: raw data, playboy advisor & 20 questions
number of playboy issues i’ve had my name mentioned in: 2
number of playboy issues that playmates have talked about me in (i can tell its me they’re talking about): 8
number of playboy issues i own: stacks
first playboy that i ever saw: november 1990 with teri copley
first playboy that i owned (i stole it): july 1988 with cindy crawford
first playboy that i bought: december 1997 with my favorite, karen mcdougal

opinion of overall cover design: need to go more simple, like from late 80’s and early 90’s. too much print on cover.

celebrities that have attended way too many mansion parties and had their picture taken: kevin spacey, rick fox, jesse jackson, matt lauer, mini me, jim carrey, nicholas cage, entire male cast of that 70’s show, derek jeter, jonney depp, edward norton, george clooney, leo dicaprio, tobey maguire, kevin costner and the list goes on. (um, i might just be jealous).

what i’m waiting for next month: matt damon interview, MORE NEW FUCKING INCREDIBLY AWESOME FICTION BY CHUCK THE PALAHNIUK, AGAIN! (4 and counting)

pictorial that i’m waiting for: amber from survivor all-stars

year that i’ll stop subscribing to playboy: never

next time on razyboy.com: something, reviewed.

file under “R” for really retarded

will google ever release something that doesn’t stay in beta stage for like a million years? isn’t it time for gmail 1.0? its been out for years already. or at least months. and seriously, they can make it available to everyone now, no need for the special secret invites. everyone who wants one has one, everyone who wants one and doesn’t have one is, is, something. i now have 73 invites i can send. that means one of two things, though probably both: i have no friends or google has gone a bit too far with a good idea.

now lets talk about google maps: oops, google maps BETA. one visit to maps and you quickly realize how much better it is than yahoo maps or mapquest. the google beta release makes it look like yahoo and mapquest didn’t even try. you know yahoo and mapquest (especially) were like “oh well that pretty much fucks us right up the ass” as soon as they saw the google release. but for real, i know its just a beta release, but can they get rid of all those example searches, please? who the hell cares about kansas city? it isn’t even in kansas, which is my main problem with using it as an example. “hmm, lets name this place kansas city, put it in missouri, and better yet – right on the missouri/kansas boarder. yeah i guess that would make sense, right?” use a city that isn’t retarded, please. at least pick some interesting destination examples. but it does make me wonder whatever the hell could be at 10 market street san fran.

the other beta product, i mean google product that could not be any more wow – google desktop search. wait, its out of beta! oh google, you’re even funny about it.

waiting for: the google internet browser, beta style of course. though i’ll feel bad for these guys. man, i’m conflicted here. firefox is obviously the best browser currently available, and they’ve got such a good thing going, but if google releases a browser you know firefox won’t stand a chance.

google, the next microsoft, only people like you.

everything easy. everything free. everything incredibly cool. oh google.

anyfuck, on to the less important:

apparently there IS something that would suck harder than a blow job from paris hilton. should i be getting worried about arrested development? what is all this talk about how arrested development is NOT being cancelled? if its not being cancelled then why get worried about it, right? either way, this should give us some concrete insight.

if you think trying to get your message across via caps is stupid THEN YOU ARE STUPID, STUPID! “you know what’s stupid?, you, stupid”

mmm, daniel day-lewis and catherine keener. heaven.

is it weird to feel so happy for someone you’ve never met? again, tony has the best blogdamn site ever, and here he is getting all famous, as usual, and by the designers of his blog no less.

and, in case you forgot: you are definitely gay if you haven’t listened to kings of leon yet. “dear josh, we came by to fuck you, but you weren’t here. therefore, you are gay.”

don’t even think about clicking this unless you have the next 4 hours free. if they had the category “bloggers who read read their own blog way more than they should, like they can’t stop kind of crazy” then i’m sure i would have won. hmm, not sure if that would have been good or bad.

just realized and fascinated by: nothing in the world has a 100% chance of happening. amazing.

one thing for sure:

next time on razyboy.com: a connection, missed

whole hell of a lot

the stakes i play poker at are low. not the lowest, but they’re low for sure.

how low? -

i found myself playing hold’em at foxwoods yesterday or yesteryear, it might be 2am. i’ve just been transferred to a new table, we’re playing 8 handed. i’m a fan of getting transferred to this area of the poker room, its the high limit section and that means i can look around and see stacks of black chips that i’ll probably never be able to own myself. its fun to look at other tables around you and see pots in the thousands being pushed around. so for some reason they’ve decided to throw our $4/$8 table in the middle of the $50/$100 and $100/$200 section. we get a few rude comments as everyone finds their seat at our new table – “what the hell do they have you guys playing down here for?” & “you guys playing 2/4?, give me a break.” - the high limit players don’t like the low limit players around them, mainly because we can’t stop staring at them and what they’re playing, it makes them nervous i guess. but we’re there and we just want to play some cards.

the table i’m playing at: everyone has anywhere from $40 to $400 in chips sitting in front of them. our biggest pot size will be $150 or so. average pot size will be somewhere around $30-$60. we’re not seeing any crazy action, but the table isn’t that bad, definitely worth playing at.

then i take a better look at the table just 4 feet to my left. they seem to be playing with chips that i’ve never seen before, which can only mean one thing – they’re worth a hell of a lot. worth a hell of a lot as in each chip is worth 1 grand, 5 grand, or 10 grand each, that kind of hell of a lot. there are also a hell of a lot of chips on the table, a hell of a lot as in more than our entire 8 person table, and they only have 3 players. after many glances i can estimate the value of the table: there is at least 1.6 million dollars on the table. i said ON THE TABLE. 3 people, 1.6 million dollars. now i notice the 3 security guards sort of wandering around our area. now i notice that someone has brought them dinner, and not the kind of dinner normal people can order at the poker table. they’ve got bbq ribs, and lots of them. they’ve got chinese food, mountains of it. they’ve got steaks, 4 of them. and they’ve got onion rings, which nobody touched. and this is just for 3 people, well, maybe their girlfriends as well whom i just noticed are sitting behind them. i also notice that one of them is getting a massage while he’s playing. again, one of these poker players is getting a goddamn massage while playing cards and eating dinner. 45 minutes later he’s still getting the massage. an hour later i see him dig in his pocket to pay the masseuse, he pays the masseuse $50, or, 50 times less than one single chip that he’s playing with, of which he bets hundreds of each hour. where he even found such a low denomination chip is beyond me.

their chips are worth 500 – 12,500 times as much as each chip we’re playing with.

they’ve got $1,598,500.00 more chips in play at their table.

we’ve got about 750 chips on our table. 800,000 of the chips we’re playing with would equal the amount of money they’ve got on the table.

the lowest denomination chip at their table is almost equal to all the chips at our table.

the highest denomination chip at their table is worth about 25 times as much as all the chips on our table.

each pot won at their table is enough to buy a small house, or an extremely nice car.

each pot won at our table is enough to buy a pair of shoes, maybe.

its rumored that one of them lost over a million dollars so far.

its rumored that one of them placed a $250,000 side bet on one hand.

tomorrow these pros will be playing in a tournament that pays just $2.5 million for 1st place (see impossible to win/barely worth it if you do). so you think these guys have any idea how much money they’re dealing with? do they have any concept?

i asked our dealer.

i asked her if she had dealt cards to poker superstars like them before: “yeah, in fact i did earlier tonight. they suck at tipping, let me tell you.” (as she looks behind her to make sure they didn’t hear that). “the problem is that they play with such high denomination chips. they know enough that throwing a thousand dollar chip as a tip is just too much, but they don’t have chips that are worth any less than that, so what are they going to tip with? nothing, that’s what. when i was done dealing my last rotation they gave me all the chips they were using to count the games. ten chips, ten dollars in white (white chips being the cheapest chips in the casino at $1 each). ten dollars. i was pushing pots that were in the hundreds of thousands and they give me $10. so you guys usually tip me $1-$2 a hand on each $30-$100 pot, right? they tip $10 after 20 $50,000+ pots. so essentially you guys tip more than they tip to begin with, not even considering the fact that they’re playing at levels hundreds of times higher than you guys. crazy, huh? i don’t know, its a trade-off i guess, cause how often am i going to be able to deal to phil ivey, howard lederer and jesus Ferguson? probably never again.”

hours later i look back and see the game is breaking up. the players have enlisted their girlfriends to carry the chips for them, nice. you know how sweet it would be to have one of those $1k or $25k chips tossed to me, like what was just done to some girlfriend of theirs? obviously she was flustered by the move because seconds later she drops half a rack of $1k chips all over the table and floor. 50k worth of chips, dropped, spilled, rolling around on the floor, nice. too bad we were in a casino where every camera within eyeshot is focused on this table - nobody makes a move for the chips on the floor. and what would we do with one of those chips anyway? if we went to cash in a $1k or $25k chip we’d just get laughed at, no way those chips get used by anyone other than a handful of well known professionals.

when our dealer leaves we all fork over some $1 chips, totaling $11 – at least we could beat those pros monetarily at one aspect of the game.

now its 4am in the morning, nothing else to do but keep playing.

next time on razyboy.com - playboy, a review.

you enjoy myself

you think you’re so subtle……..you’re not

you think you’re so hot………you are

you think i don’t know what you’re doing………i do

you may think i don’t appreciate you’re flirting………i do

but. i love my girlfriend, so run away now.

--------------------------

in an attempt to learn something interesting, fill my spare time with something productive, and prove to myself that i’m most definitely not retarded, i sign up for an introduction to archeology class.

so do you.

for the ENTIRE first 10 minutes of the semester i was able to follow along with the professor and learn. but once he was done explaining the syllabus my brain shut down and i started to daydream.

until.

until you walk into the first class of the semester a good 20 minutes late. nice move genius. you plop yourself down in a seat right next to mine. let me explain something, there are 13 people in the class and 80 available seats, its like a goddamn stadium in here. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU BE ANY CLOSER THAN 3 SEATS FROM THE NEXT STUDENT. DOING OTHERWISE WOULD BE CONSIDERED JUST PLAIN ODD, SO WHAT THE ASS ARE YOU DOING NEXT TO ME?

but it takes me about 2 seconds to realize that this may be a blessing. turns out you are gorgeous beyond words. you are my lohan come true.

so, as the class listened attentively and focused on a discussion about calcium carbonate precipitate, i was busy thinking of ways to get both my mind and my eyes off of your smokin’ bod.

not possible.

and.

you’re well versed in the ways of war. the war that beautiful women fight against the senses of man. you deny me at each attempt to avert my eyes, my body, my sense of smell. case in point:

i sit up straight and focus my eyes on the new powerpoint slide; you start to rub the top portion of your collarbone with your hand, underneath your ALREADY HALF-OPEN BLOUSE. the new powerpoint slide now has no relevance to me, as i can only think about how not to start moaning in excitement while staring down your blouse at your heavenly breasts. OH GOD WOMAN. you have now completely aroused me sexually. in class. thanks.

or.

i cock my head towards the clock on the wall and stare at it for about ten seconds. your response is to lean over and whisper in my ear “what are you doing after class?” which, really isn’t such a troubling question. UNFUCKINGLESS. and let me be very clear in asking: is there really a need to you use your SWEET SMELLING & WARM BREATH, ALONG WITH YOUR SEXY & THROATY VOICE WHEN YOU ASK ME THIS? when anything to do with warm, sexy, sweet or throaty lands on my ears i tend to get insanely aroused. you will visually notice the following taking place: i will sink or melt into a puddle on my seat. i will stop breathing completely. and i will make an exaggerated swallowing/gulping sound without even knowing. you have now completely aroused me sexually. in class. thanks.

or.

when i attempt to take notes during the lecture you enjoy: making adjustments. this may sound innocent enough, but its not, oh no. each time you re-cross your legs? each time you lean back and adjust your hair with both hands? each time you bend over to grab a new pen out of your bag allowing me to see your dead-sexy blue embroidered satin victoria’s secret bra? each time. with each time you do this i’m temporarily distracted and must visually confirm what your readjusted HOT self looks like. my eyes must make contact with your movement, be it however small. you have now completely aroused me sexually. in class. thanks.

or, after class.

when you follow me out of class, talking. not good. not good because my girlfriend sometimes likes to meet me after class. for some reason she doesn’t like a lohan look-alike talking and laughing with her boyfriend while in her presence. gee, i can’t figure out why? and, as it turns out, gorgeous and flirty women touching and giving me attention while walking out of class leaves me with only one thing for certain: i’ll be sleeping on the couch for the next 2 nights minimum. oh, and for some reason she doesn’t like it when you ask her what her name is, FOR THE TENTH GODDAMN TIME.

or, in the library while i’m studying.

how funny to see you here! you don’t remember what i said to you yesterday do you?! no! of course not! i’ll remind you! MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND IS COMING IN LIKE 1 MINUTE TO STUDY WITH ME! this means that all drop dead gorgeous women other than my girlfriend should not be in my presence for the next 2 hours. especially women that are wearing short skirts, have perfectly tanned skin, and have breasts that beg for eyes. but wait! it means even more! it also means that you should not “just ask me a quick question for a sec.” and still more! it CERTAINFUCKINGLY does not mean you should be VERY CLOSE to me asking me what stratified random sampling means. because, when you lean in close while listening to my whispered answer then no doubt my girlfriend will be walking towards us, thinking that i’m actually giving you directions to our apartment so that i can screw you completely whenever she’s not there.

we both know you’re extremely hot. we both know that i can’t keep my eyes off you. but, i think we can both agree that i’ve done a pretty good job keeping my hands off of that heavenly body of yours this semester. unfortunately my girlfriend doesn’t appreciate the fact that i’ve resisted such temptation so well, and for so long. thus, she is going to dump me if you keep it up. the next time we walk out of class and you’re laughing and touching my shoulder? dumped. sad, but true. so please do me a favor, please just run away now. you’ve had your fun, i’ve gotten plenty of the evil eye from my girlfriend, lets just leave it at that. the day i decide to grab you during a lecture to have wild sex on the classroom floor is coming too close for comfort.

next time on razyboy.com - so much more, of nothing.

this is one of those clever titles

the rumor mill: disney is thinking of switching out lilo for someone with a smaller chest. you know, for that movie with that hot underage chick that has the incredible rack. you know, the movie where she’ll be wearing a tight fitting LEATHER racing suit. its called lohan: fully loaded, or something of the like. she’s fully loaded, that’s for sure. if they decide to still use her but digitally reduce her heavenly rack then please go ahead and kill me.

for this you can quote me, and send me royalty checks or something cause you know i’m gonna be the first to say it and that i’m right: topher grace will become the best actor ever. best. ever. watch in good company tonight and tell me i’m wrong. i didn’t think so. see? you know when you watch a movie and the whole time you’re thinking about how kick-ass it is for a certain actor to be playing the part? oh topher. i'm so glad they didn't go with asston kutcher, which they almost did. wow, they def threw topher into the right role. he’s just so funny and quirky and regular and when he? yeah, he’s pretty awesome.

on a related subject: turns out that i am in fact the last man standing in line. the uh, the line of not knowing how drop dead gorgous scarlet johansson is. yeah that line.

a good valentines day: when natalie portman shows up at your door. i guess i should say that she came in magazine form, but still, she showed up at my door. and that just rocks my world. hold that thought, it might rock UNLESS you’ve only jacked off skimmed through it once before finding it drenched in red wine the next morning because your roommate had some crazy drunken wine glass breaking valentines sex on/around the couch/coffee table.

some deeply sad news: turns out i won’t be sleeping with jessica alba anytime soon. shit. no longer sleeping around, honestly, what are the chances? – i was gonna call her tomorrow!

some deeply exciting news: CATHERINE KEENER WILL BE IN A MOVIE DUE OUT THIS YEAR! and when i use caps it means i'm in orgasm state. but seriously, i saw her in a preview this past weekend. at least i think it was her. i hope i didn't just imagine it. can she at least let us know why she took like 10 years off? are you really allowed to take so much time off when you're so cool?

its gettin hot in here: no really, it always gets hot in my office at 1pm.

yes, in fact there are some hot babes on the new survivor: but there are more hot guys than gals, i’ll say that much. AND WHAT THE ASS IS UP WITH THAT? HUH PROBST? true, last season the hot women outweighed the hot guys, but christ, its like this survivor is all 22 year old muscly, tanned, nevermind - i’m not good at describing hot guys. no, there are no shepherdresses this season, or previous playmates (ami cusack*), but they stuck with bringing on yet another “barista.” christ, enough with the barista’s. if that’s all you have to do to get on suvivor then just kick me towards the nearest starfucks. anyway, i’ve got a fav list already for sole survivor: stephanie or kim or tom or ian or bobby jon. yes, you read correctly, bobby jon is his name, and somehow i want him to win.

*it should be noted that ami was all of the above – she was a model, a barista, a playmate, and maybe even a farmer. lets have a moment of silence for goddess. i mean ami.

next time on razyboy.com - more of nothing.

letter to amazon.com

i recently sent two letters to amazon.com customer service. one got right to the point, and was very weak. the other letter rambled and was perhaps a bit more critical. i've posted the more critical version:

letter to customer service 2/8/05

re: amazonprime

----------------------------------------------------------

dear amazon.com

so, i kind of like you. maybe even love you. usually.

i give you lots of money all the time. mainly for books. this is because i love you.

your site is easy to navigate. you make suggestions on what i might like based on what i’ve bought or i’m searching for. you have 1-click ordering. you have that sweet wish list feature that allows me to look at what i want but can’t afford. you have the search option for other peoples wish lists. you have that most wished for items link, which is nice to look through for xmas or bday presents. you have the gold box, wait, do you still have the gold box? you have the search inside the book feature (which sounds cooler than it is, usually). you have nickel trivia, or at least used to and still should. you have A9 web searching, something i’ve forgotten to use regularly. you sell everything one could want, basically – and on the cheap.

to top it all off you now have “all you can eat” express shipping - amazonprime. a very interesting, unique, and original way to handle shipping and handling, i must say. now i can get books and shit the next day for just $4! sweet! that means i’ll order more products more often, for sure! no more waiting 5-10 days!

now, the name, amazonprime. sucks. retarded. gives me no frame of reference. i now know what it is, yet i still can’t associate it with shipping. the name means nothing to me. not to mention it just looks ugly as all hell. didn’t you do some research on different names before deciding on prime? did you run it by a few people? i guess not? i don’t know, amazonexpress sounds pretty good to me, and that only took me 2 seconds to create.



worse yet: the banner ad thingy you have on your homepage today? blows. ugly. looks nothing like amazon. awful colors (blue, orange, and green do not belong together - i’m colorblind yet i know this), awful font, awful placement (don’t you usually introduce new ideas/items in the top left corner?), and could you have made the trademark symbol any bigger?

please rethink the name amazonprime and consider designing a new banner, come up with some funny explanation for the sudden change. let your customers vote for a new name when they check-out or something. maybe have jeff write another letter to appear before the homepage explaining the mistake, but in a funny way. actually, i’ll write the letter for you, just ask. if you want just use my amazonexpress idea, i don’t mind.

helping you.......help yourself,

raz

apartment # 5

i'll give you something real and juicy, for fucks sake

------------------------------------

so i’m sort of dating this girl i met through a friend and we’ve been seeing each other for about a month now.

her name is mesopretty (not her actual name). she was this girl that my friend knew from the college days. he saw her at a wedding they were both at (who has an xmas wedding?). they talked a bit, they hadn’t seen each other in like 3 years. so he finally gets around to telling her she should totally meet me (he has a girlfriend). and i don’t know what he said because i wasn’t there and she still won’t tell me. but it must have been something really good because like 2 days after he gets back from the wedding i get this email from her:

Dear Raz,

My name is mesopretty. you definitely don’t know me but i do know a friend of yours that i saw at a wedding this past weekend. i don’t know if he’s told you about me yet but he was convinced that we would be perfect for each other. now i don’t normally go out on such a limb, but since he is a friend of both of ours, and you sounded so nice, and i am moving close to boston next month (providence), i thought what the hell.

so maybe you’re just as crazy as i am and want to give this a try. no worries if you don’t want to though, i would fully understand.

give me a call if you’re interested – xxx-xxx-xxxx

mesopretty

yeah so i emailed her back before calling her (i’m not a phone person). i also immediately called my friend to ask him what was up:

friend: she actually wrote to you?
me: what is that suppose to mean?
friend: oh, nothing
me: no come on man, it sounds like you’re smiling
friend: oh, well i don’t know. i told her the truth about you really, no kidding
me: the frig did you do that for?
friend: nevermind dude, so you want me to tell you about her or what?

so he convinced me that it would be alright, as all friends do when they’re trying to set you up with someone. and i guess it did go alright. we met the next week when she came down to look for an apartment in providence. that was the date actually. i convinced her that it would be an interesting date and that i had a lot of experience in apartment hunting.

so i’m getting to somethign real and juicy, i promise.

she picks me up in cambridge and we drive like the wind down to prov. and i mean it, she drives like she owns the batmobile. i told her immediately that she drove like a maniac. she just laughed and drove faster. she was that crazy.

its like 11am in the morning, and i know prov a little bit so i suggest this place to get a quick sandwich before we start the looking. so we eat and both start to make phone calls to these different apartments she has circled.

so i don’t get off track anymore just assume that we get along pretty well for just meeting each other.

by 3pm we’ve looked at 4 different places, mostly up on that hill and sort of near brown, the nice area of town.

but apartment number 5.

number 5 is the crazy one. crazy crazy crazy. i had called the landlord about this one and he had said that he wouldn’t be around to show it but he would leave it unlocked. sounds cool to us, we just head right in like we own the place or something. it was a studio on the very top of a triple decker, but not the same kind of triple decker they have in boston, this one was like the size of like two triple deckers in boston. talk about a cool place, it used to be an attic, and a very big one. the roof went down to the floor on both sides, but there was still a hell of a lot of space. it would be like living in an a-frame house. one skylight, but on either end are these huge triangle windows that are like huge! the only thing in the entire place is this old dog bed like thing in the corner. the only reason i mention it is because it will come into play later.

right, so mesopretty is really excited now. she really digs the place and is talking out loud about what to do, and how she would put her bed right about there, and how maybe she could put a couch right in front of the window that overlooks the street and kind of angle it like this or maybe like that.

and i’m losing interest fast here, let me tell you. don’t get me wrong, i’m happy for her and i think the place is great. i’m just glad we found something and can’t we now just leave already. but i don’t show her or tell her i’m thinking this. instead i smile at her as she bounces around the place throwing ideas at me left and right. bouncing is def the right word, she was not walking around, she was kind of bounding from here to there. so during one of these bounds as i’m smiling at her she kind of like lands in my arms and says “yeah! i’m so excited thank you so much for helping” only this is what i think she said because i can’t think straight when there's a pretty girl in my arms, especially when it happens so all of a sudden. well she didn’t have much to say because pretty soon she was just looking at me and we both felt a little awkward because we kind of remembered how little we knew each other, and we couldn’t figure out why she was telling me her excitement at such close interval. yet there we were, holding each other, being awkward.

i didn’t want the awkwardish silence to last much longer so i just kissed her. better that than just standing and being awkward. so we’re kissing, and we keep kissing. we kiss some more, then we kiss even more. now we’ve kissed for like 10 minutes. things are getting pretty good now, we’ve really got something going if you know what i mean. as soon as i start thinking this she just pulls off her shirt, just like that. then she goes right back into it with me. not to be outdone i do the same thing. now we’re kissing with our shirts off, and there is definite flesh on flesh action going on here, which gets us going even more. we sort of keep kissing, though both of us are trying to get a better look at that dog bed over there in the corner. she keeps on turning me around and moving me closer to it to grab a glimpse at the possibility. i do the same and eventually we’re standing right in front of it. neither of us knows what to do though, so we just keep on kissing while standing right in front of it. we can tell now that it isn’t in the best condition, as in it has a thousand hairs on it, and from what looks to be a very shaggy dog. moments later she stops and says “well its got to be better than doing it on the hard wood floor, right?” she had a very good point. both of us knew the moment could be lost at a time like this, so we went right back at it even harder than before. pants were thrown down on the dog bed to provide some coverage, and we both didn’t hesitate after that. whichever one of us was on the bottom kind of had to do everything with their head elevated off the bed, no way were we getting that shit near our hair or noses. eventually we realized that doggy style was our best option, and we had quite a laugh over the irony of the situation.

we opted out of the lying on our backs relaxing and talking after everything was said and done, or rather just done. we decided it was a better idea to stand up and wipe the hair off our bodies. nothing quite like being sweaty and covered in old smelly dog hair from head to toe. we had a good laugh though and decided she better call the landlord and tell him she wanted to place.

so that’s how i started seeing mesopretty. i have to thank my friend who set us up because if it wasn’t for him none of this would have happened. it makes for an interesting story for us to look back and laugh at every now and then.

---------------------

mesopretty and i have a sort of "don't ask, don't tell" policy with this blog, be it a distant variation - she has never asked me if i have a blog, i have never told her.

my friend thanks you for the sex last night

this might be on craigslist, somewhere. might.
-------------------------
man, i never witnessed anything so freaking crazy, seriously.

you were so friendly and outgoing and flirty and sexy and daring.

there we were, on the sidewalk, walking towards the bar, all depressed and bummed out and i won’t even tell why. 30 feet from the bar we see you running towards us, cigarette and smile in hand. i thought for sure you knew my friend when you jumped onto him and planted a kiss on his forehead. man are you a hugger! it took the duration of my cigarette for you to let go of him! you guys must go way back! the way you wouldn’t let go, the way you kept flirtatiously fondling his various body parts, now i’m starting to think this is some sort of girlfriend i never knew him to have! he never mentioned you to me before, how strange! boy were you two happy to see each other! i’m glad we decided stopped by for a quick drink!

but then after the cigarette we walked into the bar and you introduced yourself to him.

what?!

the fuck?

i may have thought it odd that i never got an introduction, but i didn’t think it was because you two had never met before.

and you didn’t stop with the hugging, the fondling, the kissing, the flirting.

then it was my buddy’s turn to make the quizzical face when you tried your routine with me. what? why the sudden loss of interest in my buddy? well, lets understand something - you’re hot. you’re sexy. you’re sweet. you’re certainly fun. these are not the reasons i didn’t reciprocate the fondling, the hugging, the kissing. it probably had EVERY FUCKING REASON IN THE WORLD to due with the fact that you are one CONFUSING AND CRAZY-ASS CHICK!. i’m going to start hugging and kissing and fondling you just after you jump up from my buddies lap? never. ever.

now you’ve got him confused and annoyed, so you start the routine over again with him. 10 minutes later you’re out the door and off to his place. you knew him for MAYBE 20 FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE YOU DECIDED IT MIGHT BE A SWEET IDEA TO GO BACK TO HIS PLACE AND FUCK UNTIL THE BREAK OF DAWN!

you are 22 at best. you are young. you are innocent. you look like a sweet girl. you are someone’s daughter, and you would not have made that someone proud last night. you were most definitely the hottest chick he’d seen that week, that he’d seen all year. unbelievably. a wet-dream come true.

i’m still waiting for him to call me and tell me details, and i’m sure they’ll be incredible.

trust me, if he didn’t say so already then he thanks you for the sex last night.

i need some craigslist counsel here, please!

so i have reason to believe my girlfriend may be interested in dating other men. you see, i own an ibook computer on which i use safari for internet use. My girlfriend has recently been using this computer at my house during the day, as she is out of work and needs to find a new job. the problem is that i don’t think she’s using it for creating cover letters and resumes; i think she’s using it to find other men. i think this because recently, while searching craigslist, i noticed the “men seeking women” link was all purplish (meaning it had been clicked). note, the link should definitely have been blue, as i would never have a reason to click this link myself. it being purplish in color could mean only one thing - my girlfriend was searching for some new ass. venturing further into the link myself, just to see what else was purplish (thus clicked by her), i noticed a particular theme:

“Master seeking new slave – 19”
“spank me, then i’ll spank you even harder – 21”
“Sugar Guy $eeks Some Sugar Ass – 23”
“trust me, you’ll like anal – 20”

there were a few more, but you get the idea. basically i can assume that she is not getting, and needs some or all of the following:

1) some new ass
2) some younger ass (i’m 26)
3) some general ass abuse
4) some sugar in/on/around her ass?

understand this; i love my girlfriend, i need my girlfriend, i don’t want to lose my girlfriend. i love the way she can’t fall asleep at night unless i kiss her forehead. i love the way she talks to herself in whispers when she’s upset. i love how we can have morning sex without caring about bad breath. i love our secret jokes, our special instant messages we send each other, her phone calls when i’m away traveling. i just love her.

shit. i never thought my age was a problem (she’s a bit younger, 21). sexually i couldn’t ask for anything more, and i assumed she was completely satisfied. i guess i should have been more forthright in asking how much more i could do to please her, or what her sexual desires or fantasies could be. thinking back, i probably should have been a bit more attentive to her “will you ride my ass a bit harder this time?, please?” comments, and especially that time she said “no, no, no! you’re not pounding my ass hard enough! harder!". man, if only i had been a little more rough with her ass. fuck!, i should have listened. i don't know what the christ i should do now, and i'm afraid she might just up and leave me for another man.

so what i really want to know is this - does anyone have any idea what i can do to my ibook/safari browser to make all my craigslist links blue again? (clearing the history and cache does not seem to work).

thanks

craigslist post

in need of a missed connection? - latest craigslist post

always searching but never finding? hoping to post an interesting missed connection yourself? wouldn’t it be nice to at least get one for once? for fucking out loud, is it so goddamn difficult? (i may know this feeling sort of well).

i think i can help. i’m at your service. and, i’ve got some ideas for yur ass:

never had a coffee shop missed connection? (these would probably be my best). hoping for a post about how you were standing in line at starfucks on broadway at about 8:15am and you suddenly caught the eye of the cute dude with the red backpack in front of you? isn’t that the coolest way to start your day? didn’t it take you by surprise? how sweet! maybe it made you smile just a tad as you felt that self confidence level rise. but you were too caught up in placing your order just seconds later and he slipped out without you being able to approach him and give him your number, right? sucks, i know, a classic failed coffee shop missed connection. i’m there for you. you name the shop, the time, the barista, i’ll be there in front of you on the right morning. i’ll look back at you and give you the attention you’ve been waiting for, maybe a quick and cool smile with sparkle in my eyes, is that what you want? or do you want me to linger over by the cream and sugar stand but then slip out just before you’re done paying? let me give you the post you deserve just a few hours after this happens.

never been able to post an angry motorist missed connection? how about an asshole that cut you off on the corner of broadway and prospect on your way to work when you’re late tomorrow? feel like laying on the horn after being cut off? i’m your man. leave the driving to me. you name the corner and i’ll be there waiting for you. you’ll come to a stop and i’ll just run over all those pedestrians in the sidewalk to pull out in front of you. i’ll yell out my window at you and call you a fucking asshole for no reason as i cut in front of you with my suck-it-shithead-i-don’t-fucking-care whopper of an SUV. your grill will swallow my exhaust and bits of dirt as you squint to see that i still have a bush/cheeney ’04 bumper sticker. then i’ll be gone so fast you won’t have time to get your middle finger in the air, isn’t that the way it always is?

in need of a missed connection with that guy on the T tomorrow morning that kept stealing glances at you over his copy of the metro? might he have gotten on the orange line at stony brook and sat right across from you? did he kind of choke on his coffee when he first met your eyes? did he try to cover his gawking by opening the paper and pretending to read it? did you try to act like you were still reading your book, but really you kept reading the same line over and over again because you couldn’t keep your thoughts away from his obvious attraction to you? but then the unthinkable happened, right? he needed to get off right away at backbay, probably going to work at some high-end and cool clothing store on newbury street. this was not where you were planning for him to get off, this was not going to work, you were both suppose to get off at the same spot and talk out on the train platform. for fuck, a missed connection. i can be that guy, i can bring you this kind of missed connection. i’ll post for you, it will be there, i promise.

hoping to post about a missed connection with that pig at the club last night that kept trying to bump and grind with you on the dance floor? sucks, i know, and what’s worse is that i’m not even doing those kind of missed connections for yur ass.

in need of a missed connection at the bar this friday night? looking to get laid and you stuck out? perhaps you’ll be at river gods and started talking to this guy about who knows what for who knows how long. things are going well, he’s so easy to talk to and he understands you so well. he’s listening to you like he cares and everything! he’s not someone you would really consider dating, but now its 12:15 and you forgot about that already. it’s time to start thinking about going back to his place and screwing him completely. you’ve got fucking on the brain and this is your man. 5 drinks and you can’t tell if that’s his hand up your skirt or your own, either way its starting to feel pretty good. turns out it was your own because all of a sudden this dude is gay, right? when you start to laugh and fall into him on purpose he kind of turns back towards the bar and grips his drink with both hands while giving you an awkward smile. your final clue is when you reveal extra cleavage, practically exposing nipple for him to stare at and gaze towards, but he never looks. this is harsh, i know. not a good night. a strikeout, and you weren’t even playing against the right team. this is the kind of missed connection i can provide for you. i can be that gay dude that posts the next day about a floozy so drunk she tried to make it with a flamer. what a flake.

need a missed connection at whole foods tomorrow? don’t grocery store missed connections happen all the time? ‘cept i ain’t offerin’ no hook-up, strictly a missed opportunity. it will be no problem, i’m there. all. the. time. it can happen. i could be standing in front of the fresh parsley and celery stalks contemplating a carrot purchase. you could be looking at the onions just behind me, and when you step back to look at the price just below the stand we could bump into each other. sweet luck, look what he’s wearing – could the grey fleece pullover be any sexier? was that just the sweetest “i’m sorry” and hand on your shoulder move you’ve ever seen? but you were too stunned to move your lips, right? you even saw him 2 minutes later over near the breads and salad bar (ok, you may have done some searching). you tried to time the check-out just perfect but fuck if you had to forget about getting that cranberry juice for your roommate at the last minute. nice move. classic. but never does this happen, right? fuck! wrong. it can happen. it will happen, email me, we can set this exact situation up for yur ass.

help me, help you. you know you’re tired of searching these missed connections and not finding. tomorrow can be that day you’ve been waiting for, a post with your name written all over it. a sweet missed connection for yur ass.

craigslist post

how to blog by tony pierce, 110

if you're going to blog you might as well learn from the best damn blogger ever. none of us will ever come close to comparison, but it doesn't hurt to try.

unlike 99.9% of us, tony writes every blogdamn day, and usually a handful per day. tony blogs on weekdays, weekends, holidays, during work, even during sex. for 110 years old that's pretty damn impressive.

if you're looking for politics, music, current events, sports, the life of a playboy, awesome pics, hot women, LA life, kiss-and-tell, and work at the xbi then the bus blog is your best choice. the only thing you won't find one bit of? - movie talk, which would be my only complaint - two years of reading and i can't recall one movie he's seen, and for living in LA that might be just a bit strange. but in general he's perhaps the most transparent blogger you'll ever find.

each of his entries is better than a hand job from halle berry, but perhaps one of his more famous entries (and one of my favorites) is how to blog:

1. write every day.

2. if you think youre a good writer, write twice a day.

3. dont be afraid to do anything. infact if youre afraid of something, do it. then do it again. and again.

4. cuss like a sailor.

5. dont tell your mom, your work, your friends, the people you want to date, or the people you want to work for about your blog. if they find out and you'd rather they didnt read it, ask them nicely to grant you your privacy.

6. have comments. dont be upset if no one writes in your comments for a long time. eventually they'll write in there. if people start acting mean in your comments, ask them to stop, they probably will.

7. have an email address clearly displayed on your blog. sometimes people want to tell you that you rock in private.

8. dont worry very much about the design of your blog. image is a fakeout.

9. use Blogger. it's easy, it's free; and because they are owned by Google, your blog will get spidered better, you will show up in more search results, and more people will end up at your blog. besides, all the other blogging software & alternatives pretty much suck.

10. use spellcheck unless youre completely totally keeping it real. but even then you might want to use it if you think you wrote something really good.

11. say exactly what you want to say no matter what it looks like on the screen. then say something else. then keep going. and when youre done, re-read it, and edit it and hit publish and forget about it.

12. link like crazy. link anyone who links you, link your favorites, link your friends. dont be a prude. linking is what seperates bloggers from apes. and especially link if you're trying to prove a point and someone else said it first. it lends credibility even if youre full of shit.

13. if you havent written about sex, religion, and politics in a week youre probably playing it too safe, which means you probably fucked up on #5, in which case start a second blog and keep your big mouth shut about it this time.

14. remember: nobody cares which N*Sync member you are, what State you are, which Party of Five kid you are, or which Weezer song you are. the second you put one of those things on your blog you need to delete your blog and try out for the marching band. similarilly, nobody gives a shit what the weather is like in your town, nobody wants you to change their cursor into a butterfly, nobody wants to vote on whether your blog is hot or not, and nobody gives a rat ass what song youre listening to. write something Real for you, about you, every day.

15. dont be afraid if you think something has been said before. it has. and better. big whoop. say it anyway using your own words as honestly as you can. just let it out.

16. get Site Meter and make it available for everyone to see. if you're embarrassed that not a lot of people are clicking over to your page, dont be embarrassed by the number, be embarrassed that you actually give a crap about hits to your gay blog. it really is just a blog. and hits really dont mean anything. you want Site Meter, though, to see who is linking you so you can thank them and so you can link them back. similarilly, use Technorati, but dont obsess. write.

17. people like pictures. use them. save them to your own server. or use Blogger's free service. if you dont know how to do it, learn. also get a Buzznet account. several things will happen once you start blogging, one of them is you will learn new things. thats a good thing.

18. before you hit Save as Draft or Publish Post, select all and copy your masterpiece. you are using a computer and the internet, shit can happen. no need to lose a good post.

19. push the envelope in what youre writing about and how youre saying it. be more and more honest. get to the root of things. start at the root of things and get deeper. dig. think out loud. keep typing. keep going. eventually you'll find a little treasure chest. every time you blog this can happen if you let it.

20. change your style. mimic people. write beautiful lies. dream in public. kiss and tell. finger and tell. cry scream fight sing fuck and dont be afraid to be funny. the easiest thing to do is whine when you write. dont be lazy. audblog at least once a week.

21. write open letters. make lists. call people out on their bullshit. lead by example. invent and reinvent yourself. start by writing about what happened to you today. for example today i told a hot girl how wonderfully hot she is.

22. when in doubt review something. theres not enough reviews on blogs. review a movie you just saw, a tv show, a cd, a kiss you just got, a restaurant, a hike you just took, anything.

23. constantly write about the town that you live in.

24. out yourself. tell your secrets. you can always delete them later.

25. dont use your real name. dont write about your work unless you dont care about getting fired.

26. dont be afraid to come across as an asswipe. own your asswipeness.

27. nobody likes poems. dont put your poems on your blog. not even if theyre incredible. especially if theyre incredible. odds are theyre not incredible. bad poems are funny sometimes though, so fine, put youd dumb poems on there. whatever.

28. tell us about your friends.

29. dont apologize about not blogging. nobody cares. just start blogging again.

30. read tons of blogs and leave nice comments.

31. if you're going to ripoff/mimic/be inspired by one blogger make it raymi, shes perfect.

next time on razyboy.com - some incredible poetry by raz

the resolution list

1) get into lindsay lohan's pants
2) booze it up more often
3) get a 20 question interview with clive owen and/or zach braff
4) buy a digital camera, and
5) get naughty with it in bed
6) quit my job
7) make love to my hand less often, or more often, whichever is easier
8) get the hell out of dodge
9)
10) read 0 nicholas sparks books; except for the one coming out in april
11) find, buy, and redeem gift certificate to fuck playmate of my choice

fuck it, my resolution list is just as impossible as yours and you know it. but i look at it this way, if anything on my list actually happened? well then.

"the good things are never free"

courtesy of someone. i think it was jill. and i think i made some changes.

1. What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before?
started a blog.
had sex with a celebrity (if a reality tv star counts).
took a vacation from work.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
i didn't have any last year, which is a bummer because i'd love to see how i did with them.

for this year i've made a wish list, or as you like to call it, resolutions - to be found somewhere on this blog, at some point.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
no. please let this not happen for a long time.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
no. please let this not happen for a long time.

5. What countries did you visit?
mexico!

6. What would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004?
a pair of lindsay lohan's panties.

7. What date from 2004 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
without the why part i can say it was july 29th.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
holy shit, this is embarrassing.

9. What was your biggest failure?
lets not add insult to injury here.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
well, yeah, now that you mention it. i was diagnosed with some skin thingy, i meant to do some research on it but never got around to it. maybe now is the time.

i also suffered from heartache on more than a few different occasions.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
at first i thought it was an ipod. but now i'm thinking it was the arrested development dvds, season 1.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
jon stewart, and i don't even get comedy central. strange.
paris hilton in that sex video.
myself, considering.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
i'll get back to you.

14. Where did most of your money go?
rent and loans. whoops, i didn't mean to be so honest there.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
survivor, of course.
and a certain day in the very beginning of november.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? happier.
ii. thinner or fatter? um, same i guess
iii. richer or poorer? eh, probably about the same.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
getting the hell out of here.
playing poker.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
dating.
being sick.
daydreaming about, oh fuck it.

22. Did you fall in love in 2004?
yes, many many times over. specifically, with my sweet arrested development dvds and each new issue of playboy.

23. How many one-night stands?
zip.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
survivor.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
i hate W more than i hated him at this time last year. that counts for something.

26. What was the best book you read?
a tie with all the poker books on my desk.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
weezer? elliott smith? oh, and badly drawn boy. i'm a late bloomer when it comes to music.

28. What did you want and get?
ipod.
laid.

29. What did you want and not get?
ug, this is a bad subject. a computer and a digital camera are on the list of material items. non-material is a list i don't want to get into.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
wow, garden state, no question. with mean girls, closer, and eternal sunshine all a close second.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
seeing all of twin peaks released on dvd.
seeing karen mcdougal on my doorstep begging for some action.
not breaking my wind defyer umbrella.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
simply awesome. i found that the "new" grey fleece pullover goes with many different 5 year old t-shits and jeans.

34. What kept you sane?
the red sox beating the yankees in 7

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
clive owen.
zach braff.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
next question.

37. Greatest discovery?
in-n-out burger
curb your enthusiasm, coupling, sex in the city, twin peaks, arrested development, the office.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004.
that it's ok to lay down AJ and even AQ preflop. this applies to suited or off, and mainly when facing a raise from a tight player, especially when in early position.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
"the good things are never free"
- i'm ain't telling who

my ship came in last night

i’m sitting on the couch watching a blonde clive owen shuffle cards.

a knock on the door and its amber brkich from survivor all-star. i tell her the tea is almost ready and that i can turn up the heat for her if she’s cold. i tell her i wouldn’t do that for just anyone.

she had emailed me late last night after she read my post from the other day and wanted to make my dream come true. in person. how sweet is that?

we got our tea (just cream in mine, cream and sugar in hers) and sat back down on the big red couch.

she said “i bet you never imagined me to read your blog, let alone contact you and show up at your door the next day.” she said this with a seductive smile and kind of tucked her hair behind one ear.

i said “the power of blogging, i’m just starting to realize it.”

she told me there was no way she was ever selling out to playboy, she had enough money and was happily engaged. plus she didn’t think rob would like it very much.

i asked her what rob would think if he knew she was here. she said he’d do the same for me if i asked.

keen-witted, nice.

and this i will tell you: she is just as hot as you would imagine. if you saw her that time in stuff magazine then you’ve kissed the tip of the iceberg.

i remember saying

ah, fuck.

oh, shit.

i can’t believe this.

no way.

please don’t stop.

only like all the time, and you’d have done the same.

and all that was before she brought out the tight leather and things with lace and pink straps and seductive see-through naughtiness. i can’t tell you what i said then.

this is around the time i suggested her taking a key to my house before she left.

this is before i suggested that i’d do anything for her.

work at denny’s.

rob banks.

buy her cute puppies.

quit drinking coffee.

bake her cookies.

whatev she wanted. just because because.

she wasn’t the first attractive woman to show up at my door offering sex, but i wanted her to be the last, and this i never thought i’d say. she was surprised upon hearing this and might have even given it some thought. but then she questioned me about dolly the shepherdess and in a flash it was over.

just.

like.

that.

i can’t ever seem to lie at the right times.

and how could i want more than the amber that was curled up in my arms? what was so bad about right now? why? one super hot super cool super funny super sexy survivor babe was not good enough? how could i be so shallow? how could dolly be any better than this? how could anyone?

and so it was all was.

but of course she couldn’t leave without making a bad situation worse. she yelled. she broke things. but its not like i didn’t deserve it.

she went on a rage and got downright dirty about how she had been in 2 survivors, including survivor all-star “WHICH I FUCKING WON! I KNOW A LAME SHEEP FARMER FROM PENNSYLVANIA THAT COULDN’T COME CLOSE TO SAYING THE SAME!”

then came the breaking of my digital camera, which we had used earlier in bed if you know what i mean. “NOW YOU WON’T EVEN BE ABLE TO LOOK BACK AT WHAT YOU’RE MISSING, HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?! YOU’RE WELCOME!” she said.

then came the crying. the both of us. if anyone tells you you can’t fall in and out and then back in love in less than an hour then they’re wrong. dead wrong. we didn’t know if we were crying because we were sad or because we were so confused, we just cried together until we started laughing. we just laughed together until things were better, not perfect, but better.

we hugged goodnight hours later, only it was more like the break of dawn. i walked her to her car and asked if i could see her again “please? you knew i’d have to ask”

she jumped into my arms wearing her big coat with a smile from ear to ear and just whispers “oh raz.”

NAKED ELIZA & AMI SURVIVOR PICS! LOTS!

welcome to the new victoria’s secret/lindsay lohan/survivor tribute blog.

this tribute blog goes surface deep on issues such as:

odds that survivor 10 will suck as much ass as survivor 9? hopefully pretty bad.

vegas odds on ami cusack (survivor babe) being in playboy next year: 5:1 (yay!)

raz odds on eliza orlins (less hot survivor babe) being in playboy next year: 10 million:1 (this is a good thing).

raz odds that he will ever meet a shepherdess named dolly, or a barista named ami: the odds make me cry.

is there a cooler couple in the world than amber brkich and rob mariano from survivor all-stars? the dismal ending of this seasons survivor made me think back to the all-star season. i know it was a long time ago, but never has there been a better survivor or a better survivor win than the one amber and rob had on survivor all-star? oh man. there might a rumor about them being on the next amazing race. god, that is so awesome. rob. amber. coolest. ever. odds they’ll win the amazing race: pretty damn good.

also, just so we’re clear: seeing amber in playboy would be just as good as seeing ami. so amber if you’re reading this don’t get mad that i didn’t post odds for you. vegas doesn’t have them and i pretty much know for sure its not going to happen. but it would be so cool if you surprised me. it would make for a sweet christmas present. think about it.

NOTICE TO YOU GOOGLERS WHO KEEP COMING HERE LOOKING FOR ELIZA ORLINS NAKED PICS: THEY DON’T EXIST! (yet). AND WHY ARE YOU LOOKING FOR NAKED PICTURES OF HER? YOU SHOULD REALLY BE LOOKING FOR NAKED PICS OF AMI, SHE’S WAY HOTTER AND WAY COOLER AND JUST WAY. (naked ami pics do exist. um, apparently).

onward to topics just as boring:

the possibility that i’ll be buying a copy of entertainment weekly this week? pathetically good.

and while we’re at it: if fez (wilper vladdarrrrra or whatev) could get a date with lilo then i could, right? i mean come on, fez? he’s gay right?

my lilo made a cameo appearance on saturday night live and i missed it. i wish she’d do a cameo appearance in my bed soon. DO YOU HEAR ME LINDSAY!? I’M NOT ASKING FOR MUCH!

turns out tyra banks WAS NOT in the victoria’s secret i visited last weekend, making it impossible for me to give her the christmas gift i had ready.

and, will catherine keener be in another movie already? oops, where’d that come from?

next time on razyboy.com - fan email from someone famous! posted! + raz joins a band. yes, we're cooler than your band. way.

the ticket to what i need

nothing says christmas like supermodels in underwear.

seen the latest softcore porn video by victoria’s secret? (aka the new christmas tv ad)

i’m not big on christmas, but i’m big on watching beautiful half-naked ladies dance around on the tv whispering “tell me you love me, miss me, want me, excite me, dazzle me, delight me.” wow. just try to watch this commercial and not get aroused. seriously, is this shit even legal? is tyra banks really allowed to get naked and start whispering sweet nothings to me at 9pm when i’m all alone in my apartment watching i can’t remember what? man, that commercial is better than half the porn i’ve ever downloaded. you find better.

but wait one fuck, i thought supermodels were mutes? i thought they could just look pretty, no? but really, have you ever seen supermodels speak? not only do they speak in this commercial, they whisper, seductively. they whisper with smiles on their faces and sparkle in their eyes. they’re asking you to want them, dazzle them, excite them, delight them, and tell them there’s nobody in the world like them. i would do all of that baby, just tell me where to meet you.

don’t know about you, but i’m certainly making a stop or two at victoria’s secret this holiday season. if banks is in there whispering “delight me” then she better watch out, there’s no gift like a christmas gift from raz.

xmas 2004 tv ad - exclusive online cut

mom says i should date you

went home for the holidays last weekend.

got the talk.

mom said i need to start dating. soon. she wants grandchildren, or at the very least someone that’s new and more interesting than myself to talk to every once in a while.

i should have been clued into this talk the week before last when she called to tell me that it was ok to bring a friend home for thanksgiving dinner, that its ok to bring a “special lady friend” if i wanted. there was a pause at my end after she said this because the only special lady friends i could think of are in the form of jpegs on my computer, and i didn’t think they’d quite be what mom was talking about.

apparently she enlisted the help of my aunt; because just as i was reaching for a 3rd helping of garlic mashed, aunt jules puts forth (quite loudly, enough so that the table of 17 became quiet) “so raz, have you been seeing anyone special lately?” i knew what she was getting at but thought perhaps everyone might be in the mood for a laugh: “um, well, if by special you mean chasey lain on my laptop every night at about 11pm then yes.” nobody was in the mood for a laugh. but fuck, i couldn’t lie, and it felt better than just saying the usual “no, i’m a loser, i’ve never dated anyone ever, things are the same as always, as far as i can tell women are repulsed by me.” i didn’t get too many other questions the rest of the night.

sunday night rolled around and it was time for me to head home. as a last ditch effort my mother gave me a little pep talk: “you know raz i think you could find someone special, it will probably take a little effort on your part though. like the beard, it should go, nobody finds that attractive, i should have told you that a year ago. also, your cousin rob found that using online dating services is a good way to meet new people if you’re shy type. you know you’re shy........it could help. i don’t want to be pressuring you or anything, its just that you’re almost 27 and have practically never had a girlfriend......i mean, your sister is 20 and has dated more people than you. it isn’t healthy i don’t think. i'm just giving you something to think about it. if you want to talk to someone about it just give me a call.”

i did.

i talked to mom last night, and the night before. this is what we came up with:

we think that i’d be interested in women.

we think that i’d be interested in women my age, maybe 23-30 years old.

we think that you should be kinda interesting.

we think that you should be interested in dating someone who has never dated before, never had sex with anything other than a right hand in the past half decade, and would like to be the one to “take the lead” with everything having to do with a relationship.

we think that you should give my mom a call before we go out (remember, you have to decide where we go. and when. and tell me that i need to pay for everything. and bring you flowers or something. and open doors for you. don’t forget).

i didn’t tell mom i had my own ideas:

i think you should dig a man with a beard because it ain’t coming off. unless you say so.

i think you should be interested in someone that always wears a grey fleece. always. never comes off. if we ever had sex it would stay on. the grey fleece is my prized possession. no really, it is.

i also think you should be like that girl i dream of every night. she changes all the time, so don’t worry if you think you might not be the right one. also, i can never remember what she looks like the next morning, so i guess if you’re a girl then that will be fine. no wait i remember, you know when you’re walking to work in the morning and this dreamy girl just can’t get out of your head? you dreamed of her all night long and fuck if you didn’t wake up thinking about her. kind of like running into a brick wall, this transition between dream world girl and waking up. how you grabbed your towel in frustration as you walked to the shower? you stand with your head under the water for like 10 minutes just trying to picture yourself with this girl? you forget to put on a belt and leave the house without putting cream in your coffee because your mind is frozen on the pain of never meeting someone like who was in the dream? you can’t wait for that 20 minute walk to work because it will give you uninterrupted time to daydream about this dreamy person? you slave away at work, slowly forgetting about this girl, but knowing that it will be ok because she’ll appear in your dreams soon enough? yeah, if you could be something like what i’ve just described then i think we’d get along pretty good.

cool. i think mom will be proud. write soon because then you could come home for christmas and meet mom. sweet.

oh, and about me: i’m 26, i have a beard, i wear a grey fleece a lot, and i have a mom. that’s about it i guess.

great. thanks.

craigslist post

money mailbag – your questions answered

there might be a section of the boston globe that answers money questions every couple of weeks or so. you write in, they write back and maybe even post the answers on the website. a wealth of info to read and ponder. like:

Dear Peter,

My company just set up a 401k, non-matching. I currently save 15% of my salary and invest in mutual funds and my children's 529 plan. I have a $180,000 mortgage at 6.5%. Am I better off putting my "401K" money as prepayment on my mortgage or drop it in the 401k?

Thanks,

Ben

i wrote in with similar questions, i didn’t hear back:

dear peter,

i expect to be having financial trouble in the near future and i need your help. the trouble is that in the next month or so i’ll be “falling into some money.” i’ll be “rolling in the dough.” i’ll be “swimming with the big fish.”. i’ll be..... you get the point. let me explain:

i’m single and live in an apartment with two or so roommates - mainly to save money, but also because you need to be a millionare, be married, or be daddy’s little grad school girl to own property in boston. yeah i know, blows, right up the ass. currently i work a dead-end job doing pointless bullshit for god only knows who or why. i’ve been at my kick-ass job almost 3 years, and as you can tell i absolutely love it. my annual income before taxes is in the neighborhood of $23,875. actually, you could say i’m at the higher end of $23,875, so i essentially pull in a sweet 2k each month pre-tax. yeah baby, livin’ large, livin’ the life. my monthly expenses are: rent, utilities (gas, electric, oil), phone bill, loans, loans, loans, groceries, and then of course there are my loans. these expenses total about $1500/month, which leaves me about negative $200 to spend as discretionary monies on things i enjoy to save up and splurge on, like nothing. no seriously, i’m usually left with about $20-$50 in extra “spending cash” each month, which i promise is leading to my actual question.

anyway, in the next couple of weeks i’ll be the proud recipient of one of those raises i’ve always heard of but never seen. awesome, a raise, finally. all totaled i should be seeing an extra sweet $50 a month with this new raise. if you add this $50 a month to my original $20-$50 a month i already save as discretionary money you have something like seventy to one hundred fucking sweet goddamn dollars man! blessed is me.

while i generally like to spend this extra $20-50 a month on coffee and its accessories (cigarettes), i would like to take a moment to hear what you may suggest i now do with the almost $100 a month i’ll be sitting on with this hella raise i’ll be getting soon. i’m open to ideas from yur ass. i’ve already got some ideas of my own, let me know what you think:

1) should i consider saving it for retirement? – and if so will i be a millionare by 65? also, why not? side question, would i then be able to spell millionare?

2) should i consider moving up to a grande coffee each morning? – and if so could i consider getting an extra shot of espresso once or twice a week?

3) should i consider moving down from camel to poor-mans cigs? – and if so is there a particular brand you recommend? is that mustang brand any good?

4) should i find a way to supplement my current income by getting another job? if i decided to take it up the ass for cash would it really be worth it? – and if so do you know any rich pretty boys over in backbay that would be interested in my ass?

5) how much does yur ass make?

sweet money’s in the bag baby,

raz

giving thanks, indeed

i really shouldn’t be saying this on here because there might be people who read this and know me, but.

the number of naked women that have been in my bed this past week. oh. my. god.

it would make you sick, really. i sleep with a lot of women, no lie. i guess those of you that know me know this, but for those of you who don’t then i’m here to tell you.

told.

i’m not sure exactly how this comes to be, this constant stream of women arriving in my bed night after night. i mean i know a lot of women, true. i know a lot of women that want to sleep with me, true. i know a lot of men who wish they had the kind of luck i have, true.

i know what you want to ask, so i’ll just tell you. yes, they are extremely hot. all of them. i know this. they know this. and we all fuck like rabbits knowing this. i scream, they scream, we all scream for more wild sex.

we’re all extremely sorry roommates, please understand. i’m sure it sounds like some pretty crazy shit happening behind that door at all hours of the night. just give a knock on the door next time and we’ll quiet down, or maybe just jump in on the action yourselves. whichev is easiest. if i can’t help you then you might as well help yourselves. help me, help you.

helped.

if that bed is a rockin’ you best come a knockin’

ladies, you know its been a pleasure.

pleased.

raz has a lot to be thankful for this holiday season.

thanked.

some new content for your ass

thoughts from today:
will i ever get to work on time?

is there anyone in the world cooler than jena malone?

is there anyone funnier than chad?

will i ever actually be able to skip christmas?

must every newspaper and news program do an feature on jones soda and the nasty ass crap in a bottle they produced for this thanksgiving?

did i really think i had the will power to quit the iced juice?

why won't the victoria’s secret angels come to boston?

is alexa actually hot? and who knew there was another blogger with as much apostrophe trouble as me?

is the best of craigslist getting updated this thursday or next?

can the onion sell-out any more than they already have?

are nipple slips the new newsmaker or what? keep 'em coming

are we really just one month away from the life aquatic & ocean’s twelve?

will my jane ever come back?

my lindsay actually dated fez? didn't they pretend date on a that 70's show once? is that how they started actually dating? why can't i date you lindsay, why?

there are people in iceland and malaysia that read this blog? sweet.

the new garden state soundtrack + its poker night + mean girls is in the mail = cloud nine

simon – a tribute

simon was a crazed cat, a unique cat, an evil cat. we had a love/hate relationship. i tried to loved him, he just hated me. simon, you’ll be missed.

------------

i’m waking up at 8am. i’m in my usual routine of stumbling to the bathroom, shaving, taking a shower, and returning to my room to get dressed. only this time i forget to shut my door when i left for the shower. i know before i enter my room that i’m in for trouble. i know this from previous mistakes like this. i know that what i’m about to see will ruin my morning. i know that that first cigarette and coffee are a long way away right now. something doesn’t feel right. something doesn’t look right. and something definitely doesn’t smell right. i’m scared, i’m pissed, i’m tired, i’m hungry, and i’m soaking wet. these things will not help the situation i’m about to walk into. nobody else is home, which is good for them. nobody else will hear the roar of hatred coming out of my throat in less than 10 seconds. but then, nobody else to soon share my pain and misery with. my mind tries to play tricks on me, like: “maybe you’re tired and not seeing things right” and “maybe your sense of smell hasn’t quite kicked in yet this morning” and “there is no way that anything bad could have happened during the 7 minutes (max) that it took you to shower and shave.” i know better than this, i just know.

creeping towards my room on my tiptoes, still dripping wet. staying close to the wall, shadows will give my presence away. i need to catch the bastard cat in the act, i need to see his face when he’s caught. i need to see him sit and wonder for a moment before attempting an explanation or escape. and i need to reach my spray bottle so frigging bad.

i’m close now. i’m inches away from my door. i can hear purring and chewing. i can hear the smacking of lips and the crazed purring is pounding and echoing through my head now. is it possible that i’m smelling dirt? in one quick motion i enter my room and close the door, my back against it now as i stare down at the floor near my window.

i’m looking at a cat. i’m looking at a cat that is now very much in trouble. i’m looking at a cat that has decided the following would be a good idea:
1) knock down a 3 foot marijuana plant from a shelf on my window.
2) proceed to tear the plant out of the pot and onto the floor
3) chew the leaves and stems from this plant
4) do this all before some crazed, naked and soaking wet body comes into the room.

i’m looking at a cat that has just realized he is in deep shit.

we’ve both been through this routine before, so the cat knows that i’ll take a few deep breaths, then calmly head for the spray bottle on the desk. during this time he’ll attempt to find a hiding spot in a mad frenzy, most likely with leaves still half chewed and hanging from his lips. But today things are different. this crazy feline decides that what he did was not enough, and perhaps if he could quickly drag the plant via his mouth, under my bed, he could sit and eat it in eternal ecstasy. yes, this is what he has decided to do while looking at me. So as i walk to my spray bottle i’m watching a drugged-up black ball of rat-bastard fur drag my marijuana plant under my bed. i never figured him for this, so all i could do was watch in utter amazement.

the cat is fortunate i’m not depending on this plant for its monetary value. while perhaps valuable it also happens to be a cool looking plant. cool looking as long as half the leaves are not chewed and dangling from the stem. the cat of course had thought i was growing this plant for his benefit only. he also figured that tearing it apart was what i wanted him to be doing. while i will admit he has had a fair amount of success in the shredding of my plant, i by no means condone it. it should also be mentioned that in my bedroom/greenhouse he has not attempted to chew the fucking life out of any other plant, ever. while i appreciate the restraint on his part for not doing the same to each of my other plants, i wouldn’t mind if he chose one of my other plants that IS easily replaceable.

some mornings i open my bedroom door to him sitting outside, just waiting for me to open up shop for him. door gets opened, he gets up and starts walking toward me, i shut the door and he looks at me all confused. me saying: “not a chance in fuck i’m letting you in here.” him thinking i said: “well shit cat, i didn’t realize you were out here, come on in here and terrorize the fuck out of my weed while i jump in the shower.”

things that made me contemplate discontinuing the weed growing: now clothed in just boxers i attempt to clean up his mess. i’m on my hands and knees at 8:15 in the morning sweeping dirt into a dust pan in just my underwear. i’m no closer to that first cup of coffee, and at this point it will have to be a grande. i’m moving a bed and attempting to reach that last bit of plant that he managed to hide. i’m doing this all while he has the audacity to prance around me waiting for me to forget about part of it, and i swear to frig he’s smiling at me during each pass. oh simon, keep smiling you bastard hell-cat, just be glad you’re so damn cute.

things that made me discontinue this morning clean up routine after forgetting to close my door: simon moved to vt and got eaten by a bigger cat. a harsh reality.

simon, the memories.

feeling like

when it rains i always walk home without a jacket or umbrella. nothing better. it feels just like. and there’s nothing better than letting rain pour down upon your head. letting rain drip down your face. off the tip of your nose. into your eyes. onto you lips. way in your ears. letting the rain soak your shirt, your pants, your shoes. stepping in every puddle. really feeling soaked. just feeling like.

but now i’m home and i’m soaked and wet to the bone and inside it just doesn’t feel the same. i feel like i’m a four letter word that starts with s.

i’m sitting in my room typing on an old computer from the college days. feeling like. just feeling like. feeling like because class blew my ass, work blew my ass, and i got financially blown up the ass today. i feel like screaming a four letter word that starts with f. i feel like yelling it over and over and over and over, only sometimes just go ahead and add mother to the front and er to the end.

i’m listening to some slow and easy relaxing music, to calm the nerves, to get my head to just float up in the clouds, to get my fingers to just type away. but instead of feeling like i’m in heaven i feel like i’m in a four letter word that starts with h.

and i just got one of those phone calls. one of those phone calls you don’t want. not because you don’t want to answer but because you don’t want to hang up. so now i feel like my life is always a big fat five letter word that starts with b.

my neck hurts. my eyes are tired. i’m hot. i’m damp. i’m just feeling like. and i’m certainly depressed, only put god and a four letter word that starts with d in front of depressed.

i feel like a four letter word that spells mess.

two words, first one spells feeling second spells like.

oh nat

when i first met natalie portman i was 24 years old. that was a long time ago. 2 years in fact. this was while nat was going to harvard. i had a friend at work that knew her but he didn’t tell me right off. they had gone to school together. lucky bastard was he.

this friend invites me to drinks one night, which later turned out to be drinks and dinner. with 4 other people. one of them was nat., but i didn’t know this right off.

this friend and i leave work together to meet this group of his friends at grendals in harvard square. nothing about my boring day of work prepared me or made me think that i’d be meeting and hanging out with a movie star later that night. it was all going to come as a big surprise.

lets get one thing out in the open: i’m the shy type. i’m bad at introductions. i won’t remember your name. i won’t even try to be remembering your name, your friends name, your face, your job, nothing. i won’t even look you in the eye when we meet, that’s how shy i am.

so we walk into grendals, the basement place below the pink room, you know where i’m talking about. great place. cheap eats if you get there before 6pm. quiet atmosphere if you get there before 5:30, plus they don’t dim the lights and turn up the music till maybe 6:30 or so. we were in time for all of the above.

we stand at the entrance and search the place out till reno finds his group of friends way back in the far corner at one of the coolest tables in the whole place – i can’t describe it, you’ll have to go there and check it out yourself. anyway, they wave at us, we walk over.

introductions are made for me. me being the only one new to this group makes me way more shy and act way more awkward. i’m staring at the table as the names go around the table. i think i managed to say my name once everyone was done: “hi, my my, na-name is raz.”

once that was over everything was cool because they could go on to their talking and i could finish up my staring at the table and continue fondling my water glass. i’d wipe off the beads of water as they fell down the side of the glass. it was fun, the water catching.

once i got a little less shy i started trying to look up from the table and make eye contact with everyone, i even came close to making my own comments, or at least looking like i was ready for people to start asking me questions. and then someone did.

the next 2.2 seconds:

and if it wasn’t a movie star face that i had seen a million times before on the tv i never would have known who this person was that was talking to me. it was like when you start talking to someone that just got introduced to you, and you’re kicking yourself for not remembering their name, pissing and moaning inside because you’re too retarded to remember a fucking name and why the christ is that so difficult? but by some miracle you’re looking up at this person, confused because normally you shouldn’t know this persons name, yet you do, you know her name, and how is that? how is this possible? its not quite registering that she’s someone famous and that she’s sitting next to you AND SHE’S LOOKING AT YOU AND SMILING AND ACTUALLY TALKING TO YOU RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! the face, the introduction, the fact that you shouldn’t remember her name – yet you do and how the fuck is this possible? why the fuck is nothing registering? 1.4 seconds have passed. the next second or so:

and now the trouble starts, because i was ready, i was def ready, i was ready to start talking and laughing and interacting, i really was. but now i’m royal fucked because THERE IS A MOVIE STAR SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME AND ASKING ME A QUESTION WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAN SHOOT ME NOW BEFORE I ACT ANY MORE RETARDED!

as if this wasn’t going to be difficult enough before i realized who was asking me a question. not to mention i was moments away from finishing up my water-bead catching, a clear and clean glass was just one more wipe away. stalling is me. mouth open but not saying anything is me. eyes wide open is me. retard look on my face, this is me. this is me for the next 15 minutes, or at least the next 15 seconds.

but maybe it wasn’t that bad. maybe it was better. i just hope it wasn’t worse.

and i have to tell you because you wouldn’t know otherwise:

nat is just the coolest movie star in the entire world. the entire world. yes she was normal. yes she was cool. yes she was really cool and normal. and how is this even possible? i thought movie stars were suppose to be annoying and better than you and stupid and flaunt their money and bodies and be demanding and spotless and perfect and pristine. she was not. how could she talk like a normal person? how could she be sitting in a normal restaurant? how could she know and hang out with normal people? where were her movie star friends and her movie star attitude and her movie star smiles? shouldn’t i be at the next table over, gawking and pointing and snapping pictures of her with my camera that i don’t even own?

but it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t like that at all. it was different and better and normal and fun and interesting and fascinating and just simple.

and then it was just, you know?

oh nat.

that night. but that night. oh nat.

that may be all i can share.

an honest and true story.

a planned missed connection

right now i’m: sitting at my computer, its 1:30pm, i’m tired, i’m trying not to look like i’m just fucking around on the internet. but i’m fucking around on the internet. you probably don’t see me just yet.

my plan: i’m going out for some coffee in like 10 minutes, maybe 5. i’ll be going to peets, the one in harvard square. i’ll be sitting at a bar stool that overlooks the little green space outside. by myself.

you’ll know it’s me: because i’ll be that guy just sitting there looking for you. i’ll still look tired because that isn’t regular coffee i’m drinking, its decaf. or i might even order tea because i’m stupid enough not to drink regular coffee anymore. i should be wearing my usual grey fleece, the one that smells like cigarettes and booze from the celebration last night. i’ll probably look depressingly desperate and have my sad longing eyes on.

what i’m looking for: a missed connection. why don’t you plan on walking by the window i’m sitting at in like 15 minutes? that would be great. if you could kind of slow your walk and turn to look at me and smile just a crack and use flirting eyes, that would be great. then if you could keep walking and not look back while i continue to peer out at you, hoping you’ll turn around, hoping you’ll decide to come in and get some coffee, hoping that i can get the courage in time to run out and start talking to you before you’re gone forever, hoping. great. also, if you could be the woman of my dreams and be absolutely gorgeous and perfect and have light brown hair and be wearing a red sox hat it would really help make this even more depressing.

great. awesome. thanks. i’m ready.

but lets get something straight: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MAKE AN ACTUAL CONNECTION! heavens no, that could not happen. how could that possibly happen? i’m not looking for any serious or actual connections here, strictly missed. rest assured i’m very much used to these missed connections and know how to handle myself, don’t feel bad about not stopping in to say hi. i know it may appear by the look in my eyes that i want to buy you a coffee and talk and laugh and have fun and enjoy the october afternoon and the red sox win last night, but no, don’t be silly, i’m not that interested.

lets get another thing straight: should you try to ignore the above it may not be worth trying to make an actual connection. a connection has never been made, something tells me you won’t be the first.

excellent. i’m excited. i’ve got an hour or so to waste by that window, so take your time, no hurry. i won’t even be mad if you don’t show up.

craigslist post

pfft, redic

excited about the new black ipod? neither am i.
excited about the new ipod photo? neither am i.

when it comes to apple you expect more and get more. i expected more and got less. the only thing you can come to expect with the new blacky is to pay more than you expect.

signed ipod by U2? who listens to U2 anymore? you mean i get a free poster with my purchase?! sweet. can’t wait.

wait, can i get the black ipod without all that signing on the back because i don’t really want it or need it? no. no option. blacky must be signed by boner or bano and edge or the edge or whatev the hell they call each other.

ok, well, i’ll get it anyway, pack her up and ship her out. what? there’s a 3 week wait? you’re not actually selling them yet?

i get a $50 credit towards some complete U2 boxed set action? sweet! only i can’t seem to find this shit yet on a search with itunes. odd.

and i’m sure the ipod photo would be cool if you could think of a better name for it, seriously. and are you sure you priced them right? i know you like to charge up the ass, but come on, $500 or $600 for this thing? please, a little more expensive so nobody can afford it. why not just make it a million bucks for christ. outrageous. couple hundred more can buy one of your laptops. a laptop. and you want me to pay $600 for something that just plays music and lets you look at photos on a tiny little screen half the size of my pinky finger?

oh well.

planning on coming out with a britney spears version as well i see. that will be a sweet idea. sellout. but wait, is the free poster going to be of her naked? cause then i'll be lovin ya again.

an empire has fallen

at long last.

in the heart of the evil empire we celebrated a win in game 7. a game that we were forever away from last saturday.

the red sox have beaten the yankees to win the 2004 american league pennant. - this is a sentence you don't get to write often.

and if it wasn't the red sox you never would have thought it possible.

this may give an entirely new meaning to the term "yankees suck."

who needs sleep?

the question circulating the office this week revolves around this:

would you want to see the red sox beat the yankees and then lose the world series?
or
would you want the red sox to beat the twins and win the world series?












lets think for a second:

we started this yankees series with schilling on the mound, our ace, a guaranteed win. 21 wins this season, the most in all of baseball, no way he could lose. but he did, giving up 6 or 8 or 50 runs in like 2 innings.

then we put pedro on the mound for game two. nobody comes close in comparison to pedro. sure he doesn’t have the best record against the yankees, but after plenty of rest he always throws perfect. this was a sure thing. but it wasn’t.

our one-two punch failed. then we get the fuck kicked out of us when we travel back to fenway. this puts us down 3 games to nil. in our own park. after a day of rest. no way is this happening. impossible odds have been realized. fucked, we are.

but papi saves us in game 4. we were just a few outs away from a sweep. but no, after stringing us along for a million innings we come out with a win. we had waited soooooo long for the sweet taste of victory. hell, we had waited so long for a lead in just one game. down 3 games to 1.

but papi saves us yet again in game 5. as if the night before wasn’t enough he did it again, after 14 innings and 6 hours of baseball. down 3 games to 2. you can smell the hope.

then we beg and plead for schilling to come back and pitch for us in yankees stadium for game 6. we need him to pitch, we don’t have anyone else. he’s got a bloody and broken foot but he gets up on the mound anyway and throws for 7 innings and allows just one run. we’re in the 9th inning and we’ve got a lead and we’ve been here before. nobody has come back from a 3 games to nothing deficit to play a game 7. duh, this is the red sox we’re talking about, anything can happen. and it did. we won. somehow.

so now we go to game 7 in yankees stadium tonight, trying to make it 4 wins in a row. and if you told me saturday night after we got pounded that i would be watching a game 7 i’d say you’re crazy. we face the yankees that we hate, in the stadium that we hate, with the fans that we hate. the most important game of the season came to us on sunday, monday, tuesday, and now it lands on wednesday.

biggest rivalry in all of sports. and now you ask if i’d rather they play the twins? the fucking twins?! i don’t give a fuck about a world series. give me a game 7 against the yankees - win or lose, and i’m more excited than a world series title through the twins.

last year supposedly the red sox/yankees series was the best series in the history of baseball. how is it that we repeat this just one year later?

facing impossible odds, pretty-boy cheaters, retarded fans, we play a game 7.

quite simply, the greatest rivalry in all of sports.

dear in-n-out burger:

you make some rockin burgers. some rockin burgers. those fries aren’t bad either. better than mcfucktards and certainly better than burger ass-king.

had my first experience with your heavenly burgers almost two months ago. i’ve dreamed of them every night since. i daydream about them at work. i cry for them every night.

i live about 2,700 miles from the nearest in-n-out burger. and don’t think i haven’t looked at plane tickets from boston to phoenix just so i can appease my mouth. its a crying shame you don’t have any up in my neck of the woods. why don’t you? please get on that. start building, soon. please? how do you expect me to survive? you think you can just build the best burger joints in america then make them unavailable to everyone east of the mississippi? we like burgers too you know. ever think of that? didn’t think so.

i like the menu. very simple, very straightforward, very nice idea. what did i have like 3 choices? hamburger, cheeseburger or double cheeseburger? totally cool. but i hear from the regulars that you can get some special shit, you just have to know the special password. even cooler. i dig your style dude.

i hear you pay your managers like 6 figures to run the joints. i hear you give actual benefits to your employees. its no wonder the place looked so clean and professional and clean and chipper and clean and perfect and clean and clean.

i hear you don’t franchise out your burger joints. good idea, don’t sell out. but how the christ are you ever going to build enough joints to reach the east coast before i die? ever think of that? didn’t think so.

have you thought of mail order then? figure out a way to send me a fresh warm burger and fries in the mail, immediately. i can handle getting my own milkshake, you worry about that other part.

i better see those new stores opening and spreading to the east coast like wild fire. hire me to figure out how that can happen or figure it out yourself, i just don’t care, but do it soon. every day i think of how many thousands of satisfied customers you’re serving, and not one of them is me. make one of them me and make it soon. you’ll own my paycheck if you start busting open those stores ‘round here.

i want to in-n-out just once more. give me one more go, just once more. once was not nearly enough. help me help you.

hoping to be in-n-out soon,

raz

wish i could

wish i could fuck: that girl in my dreams.

wish i could see: some pretty foliage on some dirt road in vt.

wish i could find: a way to get into the red sox game today.

wish i could afford: a digital camera.

wish i could break: my asshole computer that ate what i was going to post today.

wish i could go: hiking.

wish i could be eating: some really good pizza.

wish i could talk to: zach braff, of course.

wish i could stop dreaming of: chocolate candy bars.

wish i could stop: walking to store 24 each time i wake-up from a chocolate candy bar dream.

wish i could post: my letter to in-n-out burger.

wish i could be watching: the survivor that i recorded last night.

we had just left phoenix

it was sunday night.

traffic was nightmarish at best. 3 hours to get to the mexico border before it closed for the night.

starved, we all were. lunch didn’t happen and now it was 9pm somewhere east or west or north or south of phoenix, i don’t know which.

the four of us had planned 3 days of vacation on the mexico coast, which meant we needed to buy food before leaving the US. time was not on our side.

at some point while we were going nowhere fast two of us looked out the window and announced what we saw at the same time:

polo: “taco bell!”
raz: “in-n-out?!”

understand that about 1500 days ago i watched the big lebowski for the first time. about 1/545th of the time since i’ve spent watching it again. i like it. i like it a lot. one of the scenes, like many of the scenes from the movie, applied to our current situation.

and just so i can get a good laugh out of reading this myself i’ll set the stage:

---------------------------------------------------

THE BIG LEBOWSKI
we’re at CRANE JACKSON'S FOUNTAIN STREET THEATER

we are behind walter, the dude, and donny, facing the stage in the background where allan, the dude's balding landlord, is performing a dance moderne.

as walter talks to the dude he leans in to him, his voice hushed, so as not to disturb the rest of the very sparse audience.

WALTER
he lives in north hollywood on radford, near the in-and-out burger--
DUDE
the in-and-out burger is on camrose.
WALTER
near the in-and-out burger--
DONNY
those are good burgers, walter.
WALTER
shut the fuck up, donny. this kid is in the ninth grade, dude, and his father is--are you ready for this?-- arthur digby sellers.
DUDE
who the fuck is that?
WALTER
huh?
DUDE
who the fuck is arthur digby sellers?
WALTER
who the f--, have you ever heard of a little show called branded, dude?
DUDE
yeah.
WALTER
all but one man died? there at bitter creek?
DUDE
yeah yeah, i know the fucking show walter, so what?
WALTER
fucking arthur digby sellers wrote 156 episodes, dude.
DUDE
uh-huh.
WALTER
the bulk of the series.
DUDE
uh-huh.
WALTER
not exactly a lightweight.
DUDE
no.
WALTER
and yet his son is a fucking dunce.
DUDE
uh.
WALTER
yeah, go figure. well we'll go out there after the, uh, uh, the.
(he waves a hand vaguely toward the stage.)
WALTER
what have you. we'll, uh--
DONNY
we'll be near the in-and-out burger?
WALTER
shut the fuck up, donny. we'll, uh, brace the kid--he'll be a pushover. we'll get that fucking money, if he hasn't spent it already. million fucking clams. and yes, we'll be near the, uh---- some burgers, some beers, a few laughs. our fucking troubles are over, dude.
---------------------------------------------

clearly we needed to swing by the in-n-out burger on freemont street, just like in the movie, only we needed to do so before or after some grocery shopping. i had heard in-n-out burger mentioned in the big lebowski but never really thought such a place existed, just figured they made it up. this is mainly because i’m from the east coast, where they don’t exist. the moment i saw the big red sign that said in-n-out burger i became slightly confused and thrilled at the same time. i tried to explain the situation to the others in the car as quickly as i could while threatening murder if we didn’t exit immediately and get some burgers. there was a brief moment where i came close to experiencing a heart-attack when polo said “yeah but i really feel like taco bell.” i quickly put that motion to rest by turning around and giving a look of death to polo.

a better burger had not passed by my lips, ever. a better burger cannot be found in all of the world. i said the fucking world. i don’t know what they put in them burgers but its worth its fuck in gold, for sure.

i had: a burger; some fries; some chocolate shake. it was some awesome. it was fast food and it was an instant orgasm.

strange thing happened yesterday.

i never buy any of those high-end premium lattes or espresso drinks that you see at starbucks or peets or wherever. i just can’t handle the thought of paying $4+ for a coffee. plus i have a feeling that if i tried one i’d like it and have to buy it every day, something i def don’t need to be doing right now.

i don’t know what came over me yesterday but i actually purchased one of them. i’m standing in line screaming inside because its 1pm and i don’t need to be buying another $2 iced coffee already. i’m screaming inside because i quit the coffee this week and no way should i be in line to order one, let alone in the store. and while i’m screaming i’m looking up at the menu at all those outrageously priced drinks. once i get to the counter i just start spitting out words i have never uttered before in a coffee shop: “i’ll have a grande pumpkin spiced iced latte with no whipped cream and a sprinkle of extra spice on top.” these words should not have belonged to me. these were the type of words spoken by people that usually stand in front of me in line. i’m always impressed by people that speak these same words and even more impressed by the employees that understand and can put a drink together that will represent the words just spoken. i have no idea how i was able to put a sentence like that together. ten minutes later i couldn’t for the life of me figure out how i came to owning a $4.65 coffee product.

but the night before i had a dream about one of them (you can see how much this coffee habit effects me, its taken control of me i’m afraid). in the dream i’m standing in line in my usual fashion, waiting to order my cheapo iced coffee. when i get to the register i find an employee looking confused as he can’t seem to find the owner of the high-end drink he just made. finally he offers it to me for free and i gladly accept. my first ever premium latte. it was big, it was expensive, but i can’t seem to remember if it was good.

now back to yesterday: i’m walking out of work when i remember this dream, the iced pumpkin latte well gone by now. so isn’t it strange that the day after i have this dream i walk in and order a drink that i’ve never thought of ordering ever before in my life, that i’m strictly against ordering – ever? and isn't it strange i never remembered this dream until after the purchased latte was finished? i’m positive this dream made me buy the premium latte, i can’t figure any other reason.

and in case you’re wondering how my coffee quitting experience is going this week - its not going well at all. in fact, since i’ve quit this past monday i’ve had 1 more ice coffee than i usually have at this point in the week. let me say that once more: i quit the juice, wanted to get off it once and for all. monday morning i didn’t get any, good start. but today is thursday and i’ve ordered 8 so far since monday afternoon, my usual for this time of the week is 7. so i’m 1 drink above a normal week and 8 drinks above where i wanted to be this week. what the christ is going on here?

recently been cracking me

i really don't have anything to post. i probably just wanted to post so i could look at this anderson pic a little longer. is she ready for her 10th playboy cover? probably, the girl doesn't age. will she sell 80 billion 2005 calendars with this picture on the cover? probably.

posts that have made me laugh out loud all by my lonesome here at work:

paige
morning sex is a relationship privilage, and/or is reserved for only the well-seasoned fuck buddy.

chicken
To be honest, if I had the choice to either have sex with a dude, or engage myself in a heated political debate, I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be ashamed of the rug burns on my knees the next morning.

Jane
Long story short, guess who’s asleep in my bed right now as I blog? Frank Junior. He was actually the LAST guy I thought I’d hear from considering the fact that I fucked his father.

zulieka
While I was taking photos of Dr. W staring out blankly next to my grinning mother, Ernie grabbed my digital camera and flipped through the saved photos. A few of them happened to be nude self-portraits. And just like in the old days, he yelled accusingly, "Mom, take a look at these! Zulieka took pictures of herself NAKED!" Fortunately, there were no spread-eagle shots.

only the truth
My sister writes to me from the other hemisphere. She's younger and she's stranger and she could kick my ass and as a reward she is in south Africa rubbing elbows with Nelson Mandella's grandson and getting to be the one with the hot foreign accent

the man
today is my lawyer kim's 22nd birthday. hottest, bestest entertainment lawyer on the hemisphere. i might be ten thousand years old when my ship comes in, but when i do she will get her fifteen percent.

retard and football

since i’m currently the only blog in the world without any mention of politics recently i guess i should make an attempt:

the photos below show the two candidates running for election this year. i think.

one of them likes to play football, but only if he’s just getting off a plane or about to board a plane. also, he changes his mind a lot or at least people say he does. i do too. so i guess i don’t have a problem with that.

the other likes to make funny retard faces when on camera and cry a whole lot. he also likes to say ultra stupid and ultra conflicting things on camera: I believe I'm going to win, because the American people know I know how to lead. I've shown the American people I know how to lead. I understand everybody in this country doesn't agree with the decisions I've made. And I made some tough decisions. But people know where I stand.

there, i attempted.

a visit with my doc

i was feeling like it was about time to visit the doc a couple days ago. so i called for an appointment. they told me maybe in a year they’d be able to fit me in or else come in and see a nurse today. i said fine, schedule me for next week or next year, or whatever the fuck is most convenient its only cancer that i have, no biggie. two hours later i get a call and its my doc. he says “raz! haven’t seen you in awhile, what’s this appointment they have you scheduled for in like a year and two days from now?” i tell him i know i have skin cancer and wanted to get it checked out, he says “no problem, why don’t you just stop by in like an hour or so, i can make the time.”

its so awesome i have a cool doc.

understand my doc: he’s like 22 years old, no shit. he gets bullshit about his age all the time though, so i don’t give him much of it myself. he also walks around with his tablet pc and headphones on all the time. he gets into the office and says something like “man, i just started listening to stereolab and can’t stop!” a cool doc, for sure.

so i’m in his office and we’re shooting the shit, mostly about how the yankees suck and how jeter blows a big one. we talk about the sucking and blowing of the yankees for about 5 minutes, then we get down to the real biz:

doc: so speaking of sucking, you suppose jeter gets sucked and blown by like every smokin blonde honey in ny, or what?

raz: for sure. and i bet the same is the case for a-hole or a-rod or whatev the hell they call him. he’s married and shit, but i’m sure his wife understands. i mean think about it, the situation is perfect really, some sox-loving yanks-hater yells out that the yankees suck, jeter or a-rod turn around and yell back to them that maybe they should suck them. and before you know it, well......you know........lots of sucking and blowing.

doc: right. fuck man, those yankees just suck don’t they?

later he takes out a microscope of some sort and checks out the skin cancer i think i have on my face. i point to where it is, he gives a once over and says “you mean this pimple here?” ha ha doc. no, not that, but the slight discoloration right next to it. “ah, right, kind of looks like a pimple though doesn’t it?” yes, yes it does, as if i need more pimples. then he says “did you ever see that seinfeld episode where george has that slight discoloration he’s all worried about?, hee hee, that one was funny.” not finding this a laughing matter just yet i kind of give him a hesitant eye. he says “oh i don’t think you have cancer if that’s what you think. i’m fairly sure its called something i can’t pronounce but starts with t and ends with sia. its benign, for sure, but you’ll have it for life unless you fall into money sometime soon and want to have it removed via laser surgery.” excellent, this is what i want to hear and i say “so you’re telling me i don’t have skin cancer but i’m going to have a pimple-like blemish on my face for life? i think i can deal with that.” he suggests i invest in some good foundation to cover it up if i’m all that worried about appearance, but he kind of smiles as he says this.

i’m basically happy with my appointment: 15 minutes with my doc confirmed i don’t have skin cancer and that the yankees do in fact still suck, but that jeter and a-rod could use this battle cry to their advantage.

get yourself a cool doc, its worth it. and if you live around me i’ll have to give you his name, he’s more than worth it.

i hate coffee

i hate coffee. i hate starbucks. i hate caffeine. i hate the addiction. so......

i’ve just decided to quit the juice. off it for good this time. no more juice, ever. or at least for the winter. or at least until after lunch. now would not be a good time for starbucks to name me customer of the month. but they have. those fucking bastards. why are they so goddamn smart? could they tell i was thinking of quitting? do they really know me that well? yes.

every morning when i walk in all three employees say hello to me by name. no matter who’s behind the counter they can always get what i need without me asking. they know i won’t change the rules on them, won’t dream of changing my order. they’ve got it made and sitting on the counter by the time its my turn at the register. i fork the cash, they fork the iced juice.

sometimes they play tricky on me. like they’ll “forget” what my usual drink size is. so instead of forking a tall iced cup of sweetness they “by mistake” fork me a grande cup of twice as good sweetness. oh, and that will be of no charge. great. now what am i going to do tomorrow morning? go back to my usual tall cup? not a fucking chance now that i’ve had better. by next month they’ll have me ordering the biggest, most expensive drink on the menu, and like 3 times a day.

i can’t tell you what customer of the month means because they haven’t crowned me yet. the ceremony is on monday i guess. big celebration is all they’ve told me. i hope it means free drinks for a month. or maybe i don’t hope that. maybe i hope they crown someone else customer of the month. maybe i’m just never going back in that store again.

yuck, i hate you starbucks. i hate your incredibly good coffee. i hate your incredibly sexy baristas. i hate your incredibly successful business.

i’ll see you bright and early monday morning.

ice cold juice

hmm, which of the statements below might describe raz best.

1) raz drinks iced coffee like tomorrow is the end of the world and he may forget what it tastes like if he died during the explosion. raz drinks iced coffee from starbucks or peet’s, he has no real preference. just as long as it's not the dunkin fucks iced mud. raz generally drinks about 2 iced coffees at work, more if he’s not. raz doesn’t know there is such thing as a “small” or “medium” iced coffee possibility, he only knows how to order large or venti. raz prefers to call iced coffee “the juice.”raz gets higher than a kite whenever he’s on the juice. raz is very much high on the juice as he writes this. raz has been known to do lots of stupid work very fast while on the juice at work. raz knows that he drinks too much juice but just can’t seem to stop. raz is addicted to the juice.

2) raz does not drink iced coffee. ever.

dude, we def did not connect, you def are not missed

you: the guy who posted an ad on craigslist for an apartment in central square. you lived by yourself in a two bedroom place and were looking for someone to fill a vacant room

me: that hot chick that you interviewed for the room at 8pm last night.

i walked up the steps to knock on your door and i think i saw you peering out the window. were you wanting to get a “pre-look” at me before opening up the door? you really think you can get a good vibe from someone just by one glance?

but i knocked. you opened the door immediately.........with a beer in hand for me. nice. a bit odd, a bit different, a bit warm. i don’t like warm beer. also, had it been a sam adams or long trail you would have scored points. the warm can of bud light should have sent off warning bells.

lets get one thing straight first before we go on – i know i’m pretty. i know i wear nice things. i know my hair is to die for. i don’t try hard, which is convenient, but once in a while i’ll wear some special outfits and actually attempt to make a good first impression. last night was one of those nights. however, i don’t need to hear the following from someone i met 10 seconds ago and could potentially be living with as a roommate in less than a week:

you: “damn liz, put on the sexy outfit today?” & “wow, i can smell your hair from here, it smells great!”

me: “a-heh heh, well......always looking to make a good first impression!”

moments later stepping into the living room: the first thing i noticed was that i was not the first person you had look at the room. how could i tell? your notepad of interviewees was sitting on the coffee table. a quick scan of the list while trying to keep a conversation with you got me a little freaked. next to each name of the three people before me was a “hot or not” note. apparently jill was “semi-hot & nice tits,” avery was “dog-ass ugly,” and alley was “sort of fuckable.” the next three names, including mine, had nothing next to them. i didn’t understand, i thought you had a room to rent? what was with the “fuckable or not” notes?

not doing well here guy. but because i felt bad and knew this couldn’t last longer than a few more minutes i decided to be nice and continue the tour.

next came the room showing. you told me ahead of time that the room wasn’t available “just yet.” though you failed to mention it was because you were currently using the room as a small zoo. yes i was surprised to see so many ferrets, parrots, gerbils, jackrabbits, snakes, and fish in one room. no i did not like it when you told me you were planning on “letting them roam free about the apartment” when someone moved into the room. yes i felt bad for you when you told me you needed the extra rent money to buy food for everyone, the ferrets especially. no, there is no good explanation as to why you have 4 huge jackrabbits in your apartment, don’t try. yes, i did like some of your pets – the fish.

nothing could help you now. nothing. there was no way i was even remotely interested in the room, and i have a feeling i wasn’t the only one that night with the same feelings.

things got weird though didn’t they? i thought it was strange when there was no price for the room on the craigslist ad. it sounded like the ideal location though and had parking so i had to call. thinking back now i can’t believe how clever you were in getting me there without ever quoting me a price. you were clever, i was stupid - because when i asked you how much the room was after the showing you kind of smiled big and wide and said:

“well, ideally we could work out a kind of half-pay half-fuck kind of deal if you get my drift. see, i need to feed everyone which is why we couldn’t do a straight-fuck plan. but if you really wanted to do that then maybe i could work something out because you are pretty hot after all.”

my jaw fell to the floor. my kate spade handbag fell against your head. my black prada mary-jane pumps fell against your balls. and my angry screaming fit of nastiness fell upon your ears.

i have your phone number you freak. i know where you live you freak. someday when you least expect it i’m going to break in and let all of those jackrabbits back out into the wild, you freak. look who’s smiling now, you freak.

craigslist post

the new york yankees; a complete review

- yankees suck

oh dolly

really nice + really pretty + really good sheep herder = a tribe has spoken

nobody on survivor impressed me more than dolly. right from the start i could tell she would do well. and she did. too well. her tribe was worried she was too nice and too hot to keep around. she couldn't go against anyone and form an alliance to vote someone off so the tribe decided to vote her off.

yes i'm pissed. she's out and yes i'm pissed that a tv show has made me feel this way.

dolly, i know you read this blog, i feel for you. give me a call, i'll talk you through it babe.

some recent thoughts:

- hmm, zach braff gets a few more comments from each post than i tend to
- even though i never get to watch stewart he still finds a way to rock my world. check out his convo with bill o’reilly via the best damn blogger in the world.
- the yankees suck
- its been awhile since i’ve slept with a playmate. hef, hook me up already.
- irony just happens. if you want irony you won’t find it. you have to wait for it. anyway, its just better that way. but if you got some then i need some.

song that is me: i am a rock, simon & g. oh yes, i am an island.
song that i wish was me: some girls, stones
rock star i’d trade places with in a minute: mick jagger – duh, is there anyone cooler? dude is 85 and can rock it harder than you any day.



movie star i’d trade places with in a minute: luke or owen wilson (sorry andrew).
movie that is me: christ, you know this ain’t easy?
movie that i wish was me: magnolia or cool hand luke

isn’t it always the case?:
- when you forget to turn your cell phone ringer off at night you’ll get a call just as soon as you fall asleep.
- each season the red sox will get you going then let you down.
- that when you’re down you get kicked the hardest?

true enough

i’d had enough of poker once it got to be 7:30am one saturday morning at foxwoods. 10+ hours at the table was enough for me, i was finished. a miserable night of bad beats and i was lucky to be almost even. finally. cashed out and made my way to the spa for a little rest and relaxation before another “session.”

stumbled into the spa half dead and ready for some rest. a quick shower and i’m in my suit headed for the lounge chairs near the pool.

now its 9am and i just woke up from a little resty rest.

a couple of laps later and i’m awake again, ready to jump out of the pool and read the paper. and while none of this story is true, lets just pretend, shall we? please?

ok, here we go: i’m climbing out of the pool using one of those pool ladders they have in the deep end. the entire place in empty and quiet because its ass-early in the morning and nobody is awake at a casino this early.

except.

except for someone just walking in and putting a towel down on a lounge chair. lets pretend she’s young and attractive, and maybe 30, because at this point i can’t tell, what with her back to me and the towel that’s wrapped around her. all i can tell is that she must have just taken a shower because her hair is soaked. all this i can tell in perhaps 5 seconds.

and then the miracle happens.

and how did i get so lucky? how am i in the right spot at the right time? i’m never in the right spot at the right time, save for this one moment:

i’ve got my hands on the ladder, about to pull myself out of the water up to the first step when she takes off the towel that is wrapped around her. no big deal, right? well, no big deal if you remembered to put on your bathing suit after showering. suddenly there is a naked woman standing in front of me, which confuses the hell out of me. no way is this right. naked. wet. in front of me.

the next 2 seconds: she scares herself by letting out a little yelp. the yelp and the naked body combined make me lose my grip on the ladder and i fall back into the pool, only to come back up and see her wrapped in the towel again. are you picturing this scene? can you believe any of this?

she’s smiling and laughing and blushing and gathering her bag of stuff to head back to the bathroom and i’m just as embarrassed as she is because i’m shy as hell and feel all bad about the situation.

as soon as she’s out of the pool area i grab my shit, dry myself off, and head to change because like hell i was going to be there when she came back to the pool all un-naked, that would be way too awkward and may have even involved actual conversation, which, after seeing her totally nude would have been entirely impossible.

only i do see her again. we bump into each other as i’m on the way in and she’s on the way back out. we kind of freeze as soon as we see each other, not knowing what to do. then we race towards each other and hug and kiss and grope and fondle and touch and stroke and rub and caress and end up having wild hot-tub sex. but only for like 15 minutes because it was so hot & steamy we could barely handle it – both the tub & the sex.

true, mean girls was a very good flick. true, i will be buying the dvd, in like 5 minutes. true, that lindsay lohan chick is some hot. true, i did in fact look at those lohan nipple pics that were posted on the web a while ago. who didnt? now you have. that chick is just dead hot and you know i’m not lying.

don’t let the ads for this flick fool you. this is no teen flick. well, maybe it is. but its good for the older crowd too, perhaps funnier, trust me. don’t see this movie if you liked New York Minute. hell, don’t see this movie if you actually watched New York Minute.

miss america fever

i can tell you a thing or two about the miss america pageant. i was there.

i got a call about 4 months ago. early in the morning. it was the pageant. they call every year. they wanted me to judge again, the swimsuit competition. they tell me i’m the best judge for the swimsuit portion of the pageant. i couldn’t deny. i told them i’d want my usual fee – to sleep with each of the contestants, all 52 or 50 or however many states there are. this they said would be no problem, same deal as last year. i told them it would have to be spread out over the entire year this time, i couldn’t do it all in one weekend like before. i just don’t have the sexual stamina of years past. plus it would be cool to sleep with someone new every week of the year. but like i said, they didn’t balk, they know who they’re asking, it would be no problem.

i get there last saturday morning, direct flight. i stay in the usual penthouse, i can’t tell you where. i review my notes they sent me a couple weeks ago – each contestant has the vitals on a glossy to help me prep for the swimsuit viewing. the glossy has a picture of them in a suit (all but 10 went with the bikini this year) on one side, and on the other is a list of their work-out schedule, tanning schedule, waxing regimen, who makes their suit, and their phone number. simple. easy.

i have a pile of 10 contestants that i want to keep an eye on later that night.

and later that night i’m just below the stage in the judging booth, along with 6 others that were judging other parts of the pageant. i don’t pay attention to anything but the swimsuit competition, i don’t want to be bias. you probably didn’t see any shots of me, but did you notice when miss north carolina kind of hesitated once she reached the end of the stage? that’s cause i winked at her, told her she’d be a finalist. did you notice how miss texas practically ran off the stage crying? that’s cause i told her texas blows my ass.

seriously, you can’t find a better judge than me. i don’t take any bribes, but what would they bribe me with if they could? money? have enough. sex? they all want to sleep with me anyway. drugs? i’d report them. let me tell you, its no easy task to find the best looking babe when they all look so gorgeous up there wearing practically nothing. i have my own method. i know you want to know. i know you think its all just baloney. i know nobody takes it as serious as it is. i know but i can’t tell you, it’d be a breach of my contract. ok, maybe one little secret cause its not really a secret –

Speedo spokesman Craig Brommers said the suits will make a splash in the Miss America telecast, which has been losing viewers in recent years.

"It does give the show and the pageant a sexy makeover that is right for the times but still in the tradition of honoring what Miss America stands for," said Brommers, vice president of marketing for Los Angeles-based Speedo.

Girolami said she feared that the contestants who wear one-piece suits won't score as well with judges. But Raz, one of the seven judges for Saturday night's pageant, said it takes more than curves or fitness to score high in swimsuit. "You may see someone on stage who doesn't have the ideal swimsuit. So then maybe I decide to help her out and score her on a fuckability factor instead, you never know, I try to be fair because I know they don't have much control over swimsuit choices" he said.

Miss Mississippi Jalin Wood looks at it another way. "I've always been told the swimsuit is won with the eyes, not the thighs," she said.

lots of boob on the new survivor: vanuatu (aka boobs: vanuatu). but then why wouldn’t there be? to get on the show you must be:

a) one hot-ticket of a model (male or female)
b) work construction (any area thereof, though highway is your best bet)
c) be a farmer (if you’re a pig farmer apply now for survivor 10. they love you)
d) a farmer or construction worker that is also a model

9 of 18 contestants fit into one of these categories.

lets review a contestant or two that fit category d from above on the latest survivor:

dolly - oh baby did they kill two birds with one stone in picking dolly. dolly is a shepherdess from rural pennsylvania who, like many shepherdess from rural USA, has found the time and money to spend her life traveling the world & meeting/spending time with every living president. shepherdess + boobs = survivor candidate

ami – who is currently a starbucks barista and model (though i never saw her in the recent playboy “starbucks issue”). ami as it turns out spent her entire childhood growing up on a farm. relation to some sort of farm life + boobs = survivor candidate

clearly boobs will get you places when it comes to survivor – just look at 3 of the 4 women that have won survivor: tina = boobs, jenna = boobs, amber = boobs, sandra = well, she was a fluke, rupert was suppose to win. or, look at the audition tapes of hopefulls such as eliza orlins. eliza, like so many others that send tapes for audition, knew that she had to throw some cleav into the mix. what does she do? she stands in the snow somewhere on the syracuse university campus and talks to us for about 2.2 seconds before removing her coat and showcasing her boobs while people walking by start whistling at her and saying “nice rack babe!”. a babe standing in the snow in just a bikini with people screaming “nice rack!” = survivor candidate. nice.

i don’t have nice boobs + i’m not a model + i didn’t grow up on a farm + i don’t herd sheep + i’ve never worked construction = i’ll never be a survivor candidate.

priceless gw pics

i read an interesting bit on W in Newsweek a couple days ago:

Sept. 20 issue - It's well documented that President George W. Bush was in a Florida classroom on 9/11 when chief of staff Andrew Card told him a second plane had hit the World Trade Center. But how did Bush learn about the first crash?
Two of his recollections are similar, but factually impossible. On Dec. 4, 2001, and Jan. 5, 2002, Bush told audiences he saw the first plane hit the tower on TV before he entered the classroom. But he couldn't have seen it; nobody saw it live on TV. Between those recountings, on Dec. 20, Bush told The Washington Post that Karl Rove told him. This isn't to say the president is a fabulist. He's just exhibiting a prominent example of a common memory glitch, says UCLA psychology fellow Dan Greenberg, who published a paper this summer in the journal Applied Cognitive Psychology called "President Bush's False Flashbulb Memory of 9/11/01."
Greenberg says this is more evidence that "flashbulb memories"—major events people remember "like it was yesterday"—are not as indelible as experts thought. (This was proved in a four-year study after the 1986 Challenger explosion, when witnesses dramatically altered their memories of the disaster.) Greenberg thinks Bush saw the first-tower crash footage replayed so often that it seemed as if he had seen it as it happened. Greenberg struggles to explain why Bush, having remembered events differently in his second recounting, went back to the original version. The White House declined to comment.

because most people place their hands over their stomachs in situations like this. so thoughtful during the 9/11/2004 ceremony at the white house:

quiz me

name: raz
location: cambridge, ma
hair color? maybe blonde? i want silver though
eye color: brown
age? between twenty and thirty
sexiest man ever? george clooney
do you like your breasts? can’t complain
color of your bathing suit: army green
is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? both
give me a book, movie, CD, and song recommendation. the theory of poker, garden state, mighty mouse – good news for someone, elliott smith – kiwi maddon 20/20.
what could you never tell your parents? that i have a blog
are you in a romantic relationship right now? many, though only in my dreams.
paper or plastic? paper, cause it can be recycled easier
favorite song lyric? “all of these awful things that i have heard, i don’t want to believe them, all i want is your word”
tell me a secret: this blog is a total lie
are you a good liar? no
if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? nothing
what's your favorite accent? those brits have it the best
are you on antidepressants? i probably should be
tell me a joke: W has a chance of being elected again
is there a song or a CD or something that you strongly associate with a certain event in your life? it’s funny, the other weekend i heard the ramones for the first time in a long time. i never listened to them really, but had a friend years back that did and was going to see them at the end of the summer. because she was going to see them she listened to them like all summer long till the concert. listening to them last weekend made me think back to that summer. very fun to think back about.
how have you changed in the past year? i’ve started a blog, i’ve grown a beard, and i’ve started dating like all the time.
what is one thing you want to do before you die? twins
do you like to travel? muchas
states you've been to: a lot, but not worth counting now
what countries have you been to? easy, the one i’m in now
where do/did you go to high school?: r-u high, randolph, vt
smoke cigarettes? never
lucky number: 27
favorite super hero: bill clinton
favorite sport: shuffleboard
worst mistake you ever made: can’t talk about that one on here
if you were an animal, what would you be? a tree
last cd you bought: that was forever and a year ago
last movie you saw: so was that
favorite tv channel: we get tv channels?
ever been arrested? yes, but less than 5 times.
ever had to have surgery? if plastic surgery counts.
kind of bike you had as a kid? schwinn
kind of phone: broken
lefty or righty: mostly righty
do you like your name? love it
what do you want to be when you grow up? happy
favorite concert you have been to? rolling stones, forty licks tour, boston
favorite board game: settlers or that nordstrome game
favorite drink: iced coffee
favorite sound: crickets chirping at night when you’re looking up at the stars
favorite smell: gasoline
drinks with or without ice cubes? always with
favorite thing to do on the weekends: play poker
favorite soundtrack: adaptation
what was the first thing you thought to yourself when you woke up this morning: god am i tired.
what are you doing after you finish this? 1st lunch.
who did you get this from: tony pierce

"i haven't even lied in like, the past two days"

never will there be a better movie than garden state. ever.

you know when a movie comes out and for some reason you just know you have to see it?

like, someone mentions it to you “have you seen anything about this new movie garden state?” and you answer “uh, no, i’ve heard the name i guess but no previews, no reviews, no ads, no hype, no nothing yet.”

so at this point it may already be out, or it may be coming out in like a month, you think a friend may have said it was out, you don’t know.

you’re walking around downtown one day very hungry when you stumble into the theatre with every intention of finding a movie you can fall asleep to after finishing your free popcorn because that’s the easiest and definitely the cheapest meal you can think of getting right now.

WELL HOLD THE FUCK ON.

you’re wearing hungry eyes, but you could swear you see that garden state is playing. your body is jolted awake now and you start to get jittery excited, like how when you know you’re about to get laid kind of jittery excited.

while waiting for the movie to start you kind of prep yourself about the possibility of disappointment. you don’t want to get too excited, but you just can’t help yourself. your leg starts shaking up and down, and you dream of being blown away. or maybe of just being blown.

and then just after the movie starts it ends. you’re sitting there telling yourself that it can’t be the end. it was too short. it was too good. those credits mean nothing, there’s more to come, there must be. but there isn’t.

so you walk out of the theatre wishing you were as cool as zach braff because zach braff is god. zach braff is your new idol. nobody has ever written a better movie than zach braff just has. nobody has ever directed a movie like zach braff just has. and nobody has come close to acting as well as zach braff just has. never have you seen more perfect characters. never have you been so moved by someone’s acting.

you’ve just fallen for a character in a movie. by all the characters in a movie. you’re just so damn frustrated because they were so awesome and it took a genius to put that movie together and it just flowed so well and the music rocked and the comedy was just perfectly dark and depressive and hard to catch if you’re a happy-go-lucky person. you like it because there has never been a better movie character than what zach braff has just played. if you could you’d marry him. now.

AND THEN WHY THE SHIT is natalie portman is so damn hot and why isn’t she still in harvard square so i could call her up and just hang like we did last year around this time?

best line of the movie? ha! you wish. see it yourself.

warning! this entry contains spoilers. lots.

i, ipod

tuesday was a happy day, a very happy day indeed.

for the past two years i’ve been dreaming of owning an ipod, but they were always out of my league. finally they came out with a cheaper version a couple months ago and i thought that i was getting close to making the purchase. last monday when a friend asked me what i wanted more, a digital camera or an ipod, i couldn’t answer and felt myself get frustrated. i couldn’t answer because it didn’t matter, i wasn’t going to be making a purchase anytime soon. the next day i was at work when i was talking to another friend about his purchase of an ibook. the current deal with apple is that when you purchase an ibook and an ipod you get a very healthy discount on the ipod. said friend was not interested in the ipod, which caught me off-guard. i asked him if he would mind if i purchased the heavily discounted (essentially free) ipod. when he said “sure, go ahead” i almost had a heart attack! never did i think i was going to be owning my very own ipod later that day! hell, just the other day an ipod purchase was still months, if not years away!

so i’m sure you all did the same when you purchased your first ipod, but just in case:

it was so much fun to put the box on my desk and just stare at it in disbelief before opening it. all those cool colors! also, i had to convince myself that it was actually mine, that i wasn’t dreaming. then of course i had to pick up the box it came in and kiss it like every 2 minutes. once in awhile i’d let out an uncontrolled chirp of excitement, then look around to see if anyone saw me.

i waited to get home before opening the package. having never opened anything by apple i was quite impressed with all the design and thought that goes into the packaging, making the whole process of opening it a fun surprise.

a couple hours later i went to visit a friend who was nice enough to get me started on setting it up and let me download a crap fuck of songs (20 gigs).

the best part about owning one? not having to listen to one of the 3 cd’s i’ve had at work for like the past year. now instead of looking through like 40 songs i’d heard a million times i’m looking through 5,000 songs i’ve practically never seen before. guided by voices? i’ve now heard of them. the white stripes? i now know more than 3 songs by them. the hives? well, still never heard them, but i can listen to them if i want to! i am now music literate, or am about to be.

those of you trying to call me lately? i can’t hear you, the pod has been working overtime.

those of you who don’t own one? i was there, i feel for ya.

with a little help from my friends

lets see. my weekend involved drinking, to be sure. it also involved lots of drinking. the weekend was spent somewhere in, on, or around ludlow, vt.

there was also good food, good conversation, good costumes, good games, good music, good laughter, good reading, good weather, and good fresh air. i’ll be honest, there was also good sex. good sex as in it happened in, on, or around a bathroom floor, toilet, tub, sink, and primarily the bathroom door. but since i wasn’t the one actually experiencing the good sex i can only imagine this.

lots of friends, lots of good times, lots of good one-liners that had me cracked:

“suck on the tongue till i say stop”

“if you want i can drop my pants and you can smell my underwear instead of hers”

“i’m not sure i prepared for underwear sniffing tonight”

“this beer smells funny..........but damn is it good”

“i just remember being propped up on a fence and getting chowed..........and that was good”

“you know when you’ve just shit and you don’t get a clean sweep on the first try?”

“she’s not going to come over with her shirt full of boob again if you keep that up.”

“frig, i’m never falling asleep. they need to make a counteractive redbull...........like, deadbull.”

during the beatles costume theme night i may have seen the following cast of characters:

lovely rita meter maid (and boy was she lovely)
lucy in the sky with diamonds, at least 3 of them (just as lovely as rita)
lion (i think the lion ate the eggman, the piggies, and the blackbird, because i never saw them)
a walrus (and a very horny walrus at that)
a rich man with a bag of money (and baby he was rich. he lost the bag of money though, to bad he keeps all his money in the brown bag)
maxwell and his silver hammer (myself)
some norwegian wood (eyelashes = cool, the green skin = scary)
father mckenzie (nobody heard his sermon)
octopus (he got naughty with those tentacles)
nowhere man (never actually saw him)

the theme for truth or dare was naked. also, apparently i was the only one that didn’t get the memo about not wearing any underwear on sunday night. i soon realized myself and one other person were the only ones wearing underwear that night. that makes 2 of 20 people wearing underwear..........impossible odds realized.

a sampling would include -

a man hunting/gathering leaves. then eating the leaves. all while wearing the tightest underwear you could ever imagine, with someone’s thong worn over the underwear.

the singing of the national anthem, with no pants/no underwear.

person we all (apparently) wanted/needed to see naked most: merkle you silly thing you.

thoughts on thoughts

you know when you want something really bad? like really really bad?

but then you start to think. and you can’t stop thinking about it. and you get to the point where you only think about it and nothing else.

and what you think is this: maybe you either want it really bad or you want nothing in the world more than not to have it.

you get to the point where you think that you want it more than anything in the world, yet the last thing on earth that you could possibly want is it. and then how is this even possible?

and what you think is this: why is it ok to either have it or not have it? how is it possible to be happy either way?

you get to the point where you’ve convinced yourself that you can live without it and might even find some kind of happiness in not having it.

and what you think is this: am i the only person like this?

you get to the point where you’ve convinced yourself that you’re the only person in the world like this. and isn’t there some kind of goodness in knowing that? don’t you feel special? privileged? happy? or do you feel depressed?

you start living and living the idea that maybe this all doesn’t matter in the long run. maybe its not worth the time to think about. maybe its not worth the energy to stress about.

you start asking yourself how it could be possible to be so divided and be ok with it.

you start thinking about how something like this will never happen and that it should be impossible to be so divided on how to feel about it. you feel a guilty happiness, you feel a certain depression.

and next day you go through the same thing.

over.

and.

over.

do i know you?

i was standing in line waiting to buy a ticket at the movies this week. ahead of me in line is this girl that i think looks familiar. it takes me a few minutes to convince myself that i’ve seen her before. but i can’t figure it out and just let it pass. 5 minutes later i find myself sitting just behind and to the right of her in the same movie. during the entire movie i was bothered by the fact that i couldn’t place her. what bothers me more is that she has seen me, we’ve made eye contact, and most likely she can’t place me either because otherwise she might have said hello. both of our brains are on freeze, temporarily out of order. we’re both sitting and watching a movie knowing this.

after the movie i of course avoid all possible contact with her because i’m too embarrassed to ask her where i know her from, and i get the feeling she’s feeling the same thing. no luck, because ten minutes later i’m waiting for my train and see her on the platform across from me waiting for the same train. fuck fuck fuck fuck! why is this happening?! remember her already!

we both know enough to get on different cars.

next morning i’m at starfucks ordering my wake-up juice. i swear she’s in there reading at one of the tables. i met impossible odds. why do i always get these odds in the worse situations? i’m tired and i’m annoyed that the issue has carried on to the next day and i’ve still been unable to think of where i know her from.

i put cream in my wake-up juice, with my back to her. but i get tapped on the shoulder and i close my eyes saying to myself “great, here we go.” i turn around to her saying exactly what has been going through my head – how she thinks she knows me and doesn’t know where from, yada yada. yeah! i’m not alone! there are other people out there just as forgetful as me!

only its kind of sad because it turned out we couldn’t find any common element from school, work, friends, or where we live. nothing matched.

we’re both still standing there kind of dumbfounded. we were both sure that we knew each other from somewhere so how can we not find where it was from? this is just insult to injury at this point. some kind of mean trick god is playing on us, and for what reason?

that’s it. we parted ways after laughing at how ridiculous the entire situation was. most unusual.

i’m definitely going mad soon if:

kate hudson doesn’t come over and have sex with me again soon

someone doesn’t explain the “these doors do not recycle” sticker on all the red line doors

i don’t listen to some new music at work

i don’t learn how to use an apostrophe

W doesn’t drop dead

i don’t figure out how mass ave goes through harvard square

i don’t see something spontaneously combust

i don’t get to read the long walk this summer

some elite government agency doesn’t contact and hire me soon to do something hush-hush and illegal and important and covert

i don't find out why a company in brookline is called Deathwish Piano Movers

this muffin i’m eating crumbles onto my pants one more time

something real unreal

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maybe i met someone recently and decided to write about them. someone different. someone interesting. someone beautiful. someone intriguing. someone i never really got to know. someone...........someone.

maybe.

maybe it was fun to experience.

maybe it was fun to write about.

maybe it was fun to think about.

maybe it will be fun to read.

maybe.
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she’s introduced to you through a friend early one night at the bar. this was last week, this was the week before, this was some week ago, sometime. you see your friend wave to someone on the dance floor and now she’s making her way over towards you. you’re barely half a beer into the night so you’re nervous as hell. but you see this woman across the dance floor making her way towards you and your friend. amazed is you because this woman is more than just stunning. not, oh-my-got-did-i-just-see-her-in-maxim-last-month kind of sexy, but more like oh-my-god-did-i-just-die-and-go-to-heaven kind of beautiful. she’s walking toward you and has got this smile on her face and now you can’t help yourself from smiling back at her, regardless of the fact that you don’t even know her yet.

she’s going to be introduced to you in less than 5 seconds now. panicking is you.

you know what its like when you’re standing there waiting to be introduced and you’re nervous as shit because she’s beautiful and cool and how could you be so lucky to be shaking her hand in the very near future? how this introduction could just make your day? how lucky you’ll feel just to say hello to her and give her a smile, hoping for one of her own in return? how your voice shakes and your palms are sweating and you dance back and forth from foot to foot and constantly suck on your beer to take away from the nervousness? how you finally tell her your name and get to touch her hand for a brief moment and lock eyes while smiling from ear to ear?

but the moment goes by SO fast and seconds later she’s turning to meet someone else or go back to the dance floor and you wish for all the world that you could stop time and just stare at her smile, just rewind 4 seconds to your introduction and pause for an hour to soak-in her beauty. all you could wish for is her smile once more, her smile, at you.

so what do you do now? how can the night be saved? and wouldn’t it just be easier to forget about her right here, right now? wouldn’t that save eventual heartbreak?

no.

silly.

heartbreak slipped onto your agenda today without you knowing.

i’ve definitely met beautiful women before. i think. but when she comes back to talk to me an hour later i just don’t know what to do. she’s still 10 feet away from me and i’m just sitting there smiling at her.

i’m sitting.

i’m staring.

i’m smiling.

and she’s not even looking at me.

but now she has caught my eyes and thinks maybe she should come over and talk, or worse, ask me to dance. i have just seconds to remind myself that i can’t, i don’t, i just won’t dance. it turns out she just wants to talk. she can tell i’m the nervous and shy type, at least i hope. this, or she knows i’m absorbed in her beauty and she just wants to watch me, watch her.

and i’m not sure what we talked about, all i know is that it lasted about 5 minutes. i’m not even sure i was able to say a word and wouldn’t be surprised if i didn’t. i do remember perking up quite a bit when i heard, or thought i heard the word dance. i don’t even know if she was asking me but just to play it safe i blurted out “i don’t dance.” sure you can, i’ll show you she said. and i’m probably lying or dreaming here but maybe she kind of grabs my arm and starts putting it around her waist and smiling up at me real seductively. and i kind of lean down and whisper something in her ear and maybe my heart skips a few beats and i hold my breath as i do this and as i move her hair away from her ear maybe i’m sighing as i smell the shampoo she uses and i’m floating and laughing and smiling because i’ve definitely reached an incredible moment.

now pretend this has never happened to you and you’re oblivious of how to really act and respond and use caution and reality to your advantage. i’m trapped. i am under her power and will do anything she says. only i won’t dance.

so instead we stay there and i probably tell her some boring story about what i do and where i’m from and how i know so-and-so, and then she might have told me how she knows so-and-so from such-and-such. then we no doubt ran out of things to say, which i guess was fine with me because i could concentrate on just being able to stare at her. obviously this is when the awkwardness started. smooth was not me. possible topics of conversation were not popping into my head and she was probably growing a bit anxious to drop me and head back to the dance floor. but then my brain actually starts to function and i pick up on something and know enough to actually act on it:
“um, you don’t have a drink”
“would you mind getting me a drink?”
and now i’m floating, i’m on cloud nine because she’s all smiling seductively again at me as she asks me and i’m ready to do practically anything for her and can’t wait to actually buy her a drink. i think to myself that this could be the coolest thing in the world. and am i crazy? do normal people get this excited over buying beautiful women drinks?

but while you’re getting the drinks you think to yourself how much more appropriate shooting yourself in the head would be because that’s the only sensible thing to do when someone that pretty asks you to dance and you say no. but then you remember who owns the bar and who would have to clean up the mess. that or you look back to her and she’s smiling again and you just can’t turn away from it, even when the bartender is tapping your shoulder and shouting for money.

so maybe the night goes on and you watch her dance and watch her dance and watch her dance. and you dream that you had the courage to just get up there, because you know its the only chance you have.

and so by the end of the night you’re kicking yourself for being so shy and for not having the ability to just ask for her number or ask to see her again even though you know it would be impossible. you’re kicking yourself because you don’t even know if that’s what you do in situations like this. and you’re definitely almost crying now because you don’t know what to do...........you’re too shy, you’re too happy, too confused, too sad to say goodbye and still too struck by her beauty to formulate a complete sentence.

but she knows this already and knows what to do. she makes a point to touch my arms and tell me that it was really nice to meet me, and i tell her the same. but i’m looking into her eyes and they’re much bigger than before and her eyebrows seem to be questioning me. and i just want to put my arm around her and hug her and tell her how i feel and tell her how much i can lose myself in her smile and how she has mesmerized me the whole night. she’s standing there waiting for me to say this to her. and you need to picture her standing there: she can tell i’m struggling to find the courage to say this so she moves her hands to mine and her eyes just get bigger and bigger with hope and those eyebrows keep questioning me and her shoulders get more and more tense and move up towards her neck. she’s waiting and she knows i’m close to saying something, we both know. this has all happened in a moment, and in a moment it will be gone forever.

but alas our hero is too shy. he manages to mention how he’ll be back tomorrow night and that she should stop by sometime if she can, but we know already that the moment was lost. this is when the heartbreak starts in. because maybe they do see each other the next night, but the timing is wrong and he just wants to go someplace quiet to talk and she just wants to dance. they might not say this but you can tell just by looking at them. you can tell they’re happy to see each other the next night, but everyone knows nothing is going to happen.

and now the music has stopped again for the night and last call has been made. security is escorting everyone out. our hero is smart enough to actually go back up to her to say goodbye forever, again. but she’s been through this before and doesn’t even get excited about the situation. she knows what’s going to happen again and tonight there are no big eyes or questioning eyebrows. no tense shoulders and no reaching for each others arms. our hero can still save the night with the right words, but he’s forgot them or most likely doesn’t even know what they need to be.

she knows this.

he knows this.

and so a sad goodbye is given and they both lower their heads as they turn to leave, never to see each other again.

and yet maybe our hero has not lost all, because as he turns away you can see him kind of catch his breath suddenly as if he were stopping himself from crying, or as if he just came to a realization. and now you can see a smile appear on his face ever so slowly.

he has her smile in his head, and this he will never be able to let go.

he may never see her again, but he will never lose sight of her

dancing

and smiling

and looking just as beautiful as ever.

round 2 out west this summer

on thursday august 12th i flew out of logan airport for my second trip out west this summer, this time for a week and a half.

i made it to the airport 25 minutes before my departure on the 12th (the T was blowing my ass. or, more like i wish because it was so stinking hot) only to wait an extra hour and a half because the plane needed to be washed or some shit. this put me in a bind for my layover in chicago, which was suppose to only be an hour. i got off the plane in full sprint at chicago at 9:30, desperately trying to make a plane that was most likely already in the air. fortunately they were still awaiting a co-pilot, whom i walked onboard with – one minute later would have been too late. with my mind finally at ease i was able to focus on my reading for the second leg of the flight out.

arriving in phoenix i met up with ardie (host of the trip and high school friend), oz (wizard of the trip and high school friend ), and roanes (a lifelong friend of oz whom i had somehow never met or even heard of). the surprise arrival had already happened for ardie because he hadn’t a clue that oz and roanes were showing up for the trip. having not seen ardie in over 3 years we had an hour and a half trip back to where he lives in prescott, az to catch up. a quick stop at his bar (to be described later), a quick game of play-blackjack at his house and it was time for some shuteye, being ass-early in the morning already.

we were up way too early the next morning for quick trip down to the bar with ardie to do a little work and pick up some breakfast supplies. after eating and meeting his partner in business/housemate/friend/ polo, we (ardie, polo, oz, roanes and raz) decided to go take a hike.......in a car. bowling was next on the to-do list and i think polo forgot to tell us he was a pro bowler at one point because his score was more than the rest of ours combined. next up was shopping for dinner. we left the oz in the produce department with strict instructions to take no more than 300 photos of everything while the rest of us shopped for the essentials to make a taco dinner. having filled ourselves on tacos we got dressed, or, in my case threw on the (new!)grey fleece, and headed to the bar. fortunately for us guests ardie and polo happen to own the coolest bar in all of arizona – matt’s longhorn saloon. situated on whiskey row in downtown prescott matt’s longhorn saloon has been around for about a hundred years. ardie and polo bought it 3 years ago and have since turned it into the most well-known country bar in prescott, if not arizona. the size of the bar is nothing like what we’re used to here in boston and cambridge, being that it can hold well over 300 people plus a band. i don’t know how ardie and polo were able to do such a good job in taking over the bar; making it such huge success so incredibly fast, but the outcome is phenomenal. i was quite impressed as i watched them handle problems while hanging out with us that night. hosting a live band, serving a constant 200+ customers all night, and managing 15 or so employees can’t be easy. anyway, the drinking began immediately and never let-up all night. bottles of corona and numerous shots were passed around all night while we jammed and danced to the live music (um, no. all the alcohol in the world couldn’t get me to dance). many hours later we found our way home and into the hot-tub for the longest soak of my life. i don’t know if it was the drinks or the soak, but i was a more than a little dizzy when i got out. i’m still not sure how we all didn’t drown ourselves that night.

the next day i still couldn’t sleep late and we lazed around before heading off to a trip to jerome/sedona. next time i’m there i’ll def spend some more time in jerome checking out how its possible to build a town on the side of a cliff. some quick pictures around sedona were taken (must have forgotten my camera) and we were off to slide-rock. slide-rock park is one of the coolest parks i’ve been to. set inside a canyon is a river that was found to be an excellent “natural water slide.” the river has formed the perfect water slide that flows over smooth and slick rock for a couple hundred yards. hundreds of people had the same idea as we did that day, probably because the weather was a perfect 100 degree’s. dipping into the 50 degree water almost turned me away, but fortunately i got used to it and gave it a try. we settled in for a quick nap in the sun while watching the oz take some jumps off the cliff into the river. racing home we quickly changed for our next adventure of the day, the prescott rough stock rodeo. i had never been to anything like it before and was quite amazed the entire time. watching men and women ride horses and bulls bareback was incredibly thrilling and scary at the same time. ardie and polo got us some “back stage passes” that allowed us to stand on top of the gates and watch everyone sit on the bulls before they let them out of the gate. this got us really close to the action as we watched people get tossed off no more than 10 feet in front of us. oh and by the way, a note here for those who are planning on going to a rodeo soon – it would be probably be a good idea to change out of your cargo shorts, t-shirt and definitely those birkenstock sandals. proper wear includes cowboy boots, tight jeans, denim shirt and cowboy hat. accessories include chewing tobacco, a bud light, dirt, and a really big truck. i definitely had a good time, and enjoyed looking at the cowboys (and cowgirls!) almost as much as the rodeo itself. the after party for the rodeo was of course held at matt’s longhorn saloon, which was where we were headed ourselves. 300 people filled the bar when we got back and i had an incredibly hard time avoiding all the cowboy boots with my sandals. with a smile one guy said to me “best watch your step with those things on son.” i think we (us visitors) were the only ones in the bar without proper cowboy (or cowgirls) attire. serious drinking occurred again and we (everyone but i) enjoyed dancing to the live band once again. somewhere along the line we lost track of the oz, and later found out that she had cornered a few cowboys and.........well, maybe that doesn’t belong in the blog. i never thought i’d enjoy listening to country music (or going to a country bar for that matter), but i really had a great time and actually enjoyed most of the music while there.

the next day we woke up late and made some strawberry shortcake for breakfast before packing up the car for a trip to phoenix. we picked up a friend (pink) and headed to the airport/mexico. we had to say goodbye to oz and roanes, as we couldn’t convince them to skip work and head down to mexico with us. after doing some MAJOR grocery shopping for the three days we’d be down there (equivalent of what i might eat in two months) the four of us (ardie, polo, pink and i) jumped back into the car and sped down to the boarder so that we could make the 12pm closing time. a dust storm was threatening to hold us back a bit, but we still made the boarder with plenty of time to spare. BUT FIRST!!!! oh my god! a dream come true! a trip to the in-n-out burger right outside of phoenix! wow, i barely thought they were even real, having only heard about them in my favorite movie ever – the big lebowski. i almost couldn’t believe what i was seeing when we drove past the sign and i immediately demanded that we pull over and eat (it was close to being passed up for taco bell, which would have put me in tears). i’ll save the details for a letter to them or a separate blog entry about them. we crossed the boarder and it took us an hour to get to the condo that ardie and polo own in rocky point, mexico. it was over 100 degrees at 1am when we arrived, and proceeded to pass-out having unloaded.

the next day included lots of beach action, as the condo overlooks the water/beach. swimming in the water was like taking a nice warm bath, so we spent most of the afternoon floating in the waves. we ended up spending a fair amount of the day in the water and relaxing on the beach. there were quite a few local vendors selling food and souvenirs on the beach, and they had no problem walking right up to us and dropping jewelry or food right on our towels for us to look at. pink couldn’t resist having her hair braided and spend a good hour having someone put braids in her hair, with pink beads of course. the remainder of the afternoon was spent at the pool before he headed inside (with air-conditioning!) to make dinner and get ready to go out for the night. pork chops on the grill with rice, corn and rolls were made before we headed back to the beach at nightfall. ardie had purchased half the fireworks in mexico earlier in the day and was planning on giving us a show to remember. for the next half-hour we sat on the beach and watched ardie set-off some incredible fireworks, all while trying not to set himself off. next up was a night on the town. we visited 3 different local bars and proceeded to drink lots of tequilla and dos equis before settling into a place that had a shuffleboard. after the first game i was hooked. shuffleboard doesn’t look to be thrilling but it definitely proved me wrong. obviously, like any other ultra-slow-mode sport i’ve played, i became an expert after the first couple shots and ardie and i went on to dominate. last stop of the night was at a taco stand that we convinced ourselves must be ok to eat at. there were hundreds of them around, all open, but most looked incredibly scary at best. once back in the air conditioned condo it was not hard to pass-out immediately.

the next day would be my last full day in mexico and arizona before i headed to seattle for part two of the trip. the beginning of the day was spent much like the previous, with lots of ocean swimming, beach napping, sand castle building, pool swimming, and banana boat riding. dinner was made in the condo again in rapid-fire mode as we raced to finish in time so we could do some more fireworks before the beach “curfew.”ardie put on another excellent show, and had the entire beach screaming for more during the finale. as we prepared to get ready for another night out i tried to get some more opinions about what i should do about part two of my trip. tomorrow i was planning on flying up to see a friend in seattle but i had been told by this friend that she was sick and it was turning out to be a really bad time to visit her (this is the short version). ardie and polo and pink were telling me that it would be great if i could stay and they would love it and wouldn’t mind and such. so it sounded like it would be a better idea to stay with them rather than head to seattle. another very long story short is that ardie was finally able to bribe someone with a phone so i could make a call to the airline to change my ticket (for some reason 800 numbers cannot be dialed from payphones/calling cards in mexico). after this was done my mind was settled and we headed to the bars for some much needed beer. we went with just two bars tonight, making sure to leave even more time at the last bar for extended shuffleboard playing. ardie and i started out ok at the shuffleboard, but some professional players showed up an hour later and proceed to put us in our place. maybe it was the boobs that i couldn’t keep my eyes off of, but i’m thinking they were professionals. we finished the night at the same taco stand, all of us ordering much more than the previous night, knowing they could be trusted a little more having not gotten sick from the last night.

wednesday, a day of traveling. we woke up late and spent some time in the pool deciding what to do. we knew we had to leave today to get back to prescott, but we were trying to figure out if it would be a good idea to go to las vegas. as soon as we convinced ourselves it would be a good idea we packed the car and got on the road, at 4pm. after a few stops for food and gas and the airport to pick up a car we made it to the bar at 10:30pm. we flew into the bar like screaming eagles and did some serious work for about an hour and a half before jumping back into the car and heading to the house to re-pack. by 1am we were back on the road, headed for vegas. now, vegas is about a 4 hour drive from prescott. we were no more than an hour on the road before ardie points ahead of us and tells me that we can see the lights of vegas in the distance. to me this was fascinating, to be 3 hours and a million miles away from vegas, yet look out in the distance at 2am in the morning and think the sun must be rising behind the mountains ahead. i may have been struggling to stay awake and keep our driver awake the whole time, but once we passed the hover dam and headed downtown i was all wide-eye and smiling. 5am in the morning and this town was awake as ever, of course. by 5:30am we had checked into the mgm grand and collapsed on our beds.

first stop for me at 10am the next morning was starbucks. i had the past 5 days to feed my craving for an ice coffee and boy was i happy (and very surprised) to see one right in the casino. now, starbucks coffee is generally fairly expensive, as in its some of the most expensive coffee you can find. but starbucks coffee located inside a casino is more than double the prices you’ll find at any other location. only because it had been ages since my last i decided to make the purchase, $4.78 for my regular $1.87 tall iced americano. next stop was the lion exhibit, as i had to make sure my eyes weren’t playing games with me. sure enough there were 3 lions and a couple trainers jumping around in a huge lion playground and talking to the crowd. after going back to the room to see if anyone was awake i found ardie, polo and pink ready to hit the streets to search for some good gambling locations. we decided to try out the new monorail system and take it wherever it went just to see how cool it was. overall impression is that it doesn’t go very far (yet) and its quite expensive - $3 a ride, $10 24hrs. last stop was the sahara so we got off and headed inside to do some gambling. i was able to watch the 3 of them play blackjack for about 5 minutes before i decided i needed to find a poker table. ten minutes later i was sitting down at my usual low-limit hold’em table, only this time in vegas. i’ll eliminate the boring part of the next 2 hours of play and just continue. next stop was a quick taxi ride away, circus circus. actually the same could be said about the next 10 places we went, just replace circus circus with the name of every other casino in vegas. towards nighttime we headed down to freemont street where i immediately located binions horseshoe casino and walked right in. possibly the most important casino for me to visit, i was some excited to finally see it in person. i was finally able to sit down and play poker in the most famous poker room in all the world. i spent about the next 2 hours between the poker table and the light show right outside the casino. next were the shows at treasure island and the bellagio. i was least impressed with the treasure island volcano show, but then again we didn’t have the best viewing position. the bellagio though, that’s another story. they have the famous water shows every 15 minutes at night and we arrived at 11:10. we caught the 11:15 just in time, but that only made us want to stay and watch the 11:30 even more. the 11:30 show was so good that we decided we had to stay for the 11:45. hundreds, maybe thousands of people were there in front of the casino watching the water show, it was absolutely awesome and i probably would have been there all day if we had done the show earlier. after some walking around the bellagio and taking in the sights (its like a museum) we jumped back into a cab and went back to the mgm for some dinner. the cab driver was anxious to take us to a strip club and was really feeding us some tempting options on the ride back though. so sure enough..............it was bedtime.

the next day i was up too early so i decided to have starbucks rape me again before heading across the street to ny, ny. since i’ll never find myself in the actual city of ny, i figured i might as well visit something like it. after that was the tropicana before i headed to the room to check on the sleeping status of the rest of the gang. by 1pm we were checked out of the hotel and eating somewhere inside ny, ny when someone had the grand idea of going on the roller coaster ride. hmm, not generally a fan of roller coaster i convinced myself that it might be safe and perhaps even fun. fun yes. safe i don’t know. i think my head got snapped in way too many directions and my throat didn’t appreciate all the screaming, but we all made it to the end in one piece. after some more gambling and poker action at the mirage and monte carlo we decided to hit the wax museum. having never been to one before i found it to be quite interesting, though was disappointed to see the worse piece be mick jagger. even more cool was that it was free because polo decided to pay for it with his winning from getting a royal flush on video poker. actually, it should be said that quite a few things were compliments of ardie and polo (whom i can’t thank enough) which made being in vegas much cooler and more affordable than would be if i was on my own. after the museum and some more gambling it was time to hit the road, with a stop at the bar before calling it a night back in prescott.

saturday morning i slept in much more than i ever had on the trip and woke up to watch a few dukes of hazard episodes by myself before ardie showed up and brought me down to the bar to meet a few people. he had four friends – danny boy, vice, boobs and patty that were serious drinkers and were nice enough to buy me a few beers, some shots and a couple tamales. i had a blast talking to them and staring at the boobs, and they had a blast trying to get me to loosen up a bit. they convinced me that i need to head back out there next summer for a party at the bar already being planned over the 4th of july........sounded like a time not to miss. after a little investigative work that i should probably keep on the dl, ardie and i stopped by polo’s parents house for a bite to eat during a family reunion. having convinced a few of his family members to join us at the bar we drove down to matt’s longhorn saloon for yet another night of fun times drinking and dancing and listening to good music. i definitely drank too much that night but had a great time and was sad knowing it would be my last night at the bar.

the next day i woke up and watched a movie before packing up and getting ready for my trip back home, my LONG trip back home. we left the house at 3pm, just barely making it to the airport on time for my flight at 6:20. back at home i had remembered to leave my pocket knife/money clip in my bag, thinking i would be checking it and not taking it on board with me. but then i realized that i wouldn’t have time to get it from baggage claim in seattle before my next flight out so i brought it with me on the plane, or, i tried to. all hell broke loose as it went through the x-ray and i was grabbed and immediately brought to an interrogation room. it was at this point that i remembered what it probably was and felt a little bit relieved. long story short is that they took away my money clip that i have had for about 5 years now, so i was a bit annoyed. with about 10 minutes till my plane was to leave they let me go and i got on the plane starving and kind of pissed off. 3 hours later i was in seattle (taking my original flight back home from seattle, which was my cheapest option during the changing of plans) ready to grab something to eat, but as i was getting out of the gate from the plane i heard the announcement for my flight to boston (suppose to be an hour and a half delay) already being called out – “please board immediately for flight 6844 to boston as your seat will be sold if you are not on board.” now i’m really annoyed because its 9:45pm, the plane doesn’t leave until 11pm, and i have yet to eat more than a bowl of golden grams all day. i boarded the plane immediately though and waited until the plane was full (10:30pm) for our early departure, still unsure why we had to leave early, and never getting any kind of communication about the early departure. i arrived in boston at 7am having slept maybe an hour because my stomach was begging for food. i left the airport weak and tired having devoured two fucking donuts egg bagels. the ice coffee kept me awake enough to find my way home, but the work day was pretty much hell, even after 3 ice coffee’s.

most amazed by: matt’s longhorn saloon, the bellagio water show, how many incredibly nice people/family members ardie and polo have, how i was the only person in all of az with a beard (and got a lot of odd stares), and that pretty little cowgirl i met at the bar.
least impressed by: the heat in mexico
thankful for: knowing someone like ardie and polo who were gracious enough to let me come stay/visit

i took quite a few photos with my imaginary digital camera, and uploaded them to my imaginary ibook computer, which is probably why i haven’t posted any pictures from the trip yet.

miles driven: 1820
hours driven: 38.5
miles flown: 5,956
hours flown: 14 1/2

corona: 21
dos equis: 7
some other kind of mexican beer : 4
tequilla shots: 10
washington apples: 3
jagermeister shots: 6 (6 too many)
lemon drops: 1
questionable/unknown shots: 3

best quotes from trip:

“you know what’s missing from this bar? all the guys that live in vail.”
my response – “you think? what about all these cowboys though?”
“nothing here i’d like to ride.”

“can i get a show of hands for all the double d’s in the house!?”

“i’ll tell ya.......the odds are looking pretty good at this table.”

“i think his penis is the best i’ve ever seen, 6 inches and quite a bit of girth, just what i like.”

“raz did you think these tits are real? my god i’m 44 years old! do you think they’d still look this good at my age!?”

so there it is, one kick-ass trip. i had an awesome time and can’t thank polo and ardie enough for hosting me and showing me such a good time. i’m more than impressed with what they’ve done with their bar, their house and their condo in mexico. they were able to put up with me for longer than originally anticipated, and i thank them again and again for being able to do so. to all those that i met out there – polo (and family), pink, roanes, everyone at the bar, danny boy, boobs, vice, patty and everyone else i’m forgetting, thank you for showing me how great az is and for being so incredibly friendly!

i take out the trash on wednesdays

every wednesday night at about 9pm i’m hauling garbage and recycling to the curb. not so much garbage lately though because we compost just about everything – meat, old bananas, old chemicals found under the sink, the roommates shoes when she’s not looking, everything. there ain’t nothing that compost won’t eat. we’ve got worms the size of my arm to feed in there now.

if i’m lucky i’ll be taking out the recycling at the same time eliot comes around searching for cans. eliot is my favorite can hunter. he’s very nice and always wants to tell me something. like where he used to work (harvard), how he can’t afford his truck payments anymore (toyota tacoma) or who is going to be the next president (W). about six months ago it was a def kerry, now he’s a def bush. i keep telling him there’s hope but he’ll have nothing of it. the conversation is usually no more than 2 minutes, because he can’t afford to stop and talk while new buckets of cans are being brought to the curb, there’s an incredible amount of competition. i almost feel like i should offer him a deal or something to guarantee getting our bottles every week (which is ample because my roommate is an alcoholic). i feel i should tell him where we keep our bin outside, and he can come get the bin and put it on the curb every week for us, and in return he’d be guaranteed the bottles. this way he’d get them every week instead of every 3rd or 4th week or whatever. i don’t know, i’m torn. i want him to have the bottles, but i also would miss talking to him now and then, even if it is for only 3 or 4 minutes a month.

and now for something incredibly old....

i’m very late to work on a mid-dec morning and i decide to stop at starbucks for some “juice” to perk me up.

i’m behind someone who i’ll call "the stupidest tool that ever tooled" and i watch an interesting conversation between this person and a starbucks employee…..

stupidest tool that ever tooled: (looking very tired, very stupid, very moronic, and very toolish, hence his name) “can i get an eggnog?, make that a tall eggnog i guess.”

starbucks employee: (looking chipper as ever, as they always are. i’m sure they’re required to drink espresso on a constant basis because i’ve never seen a tired starbucks employee. 9 in the morning and this dude is bouncing off walls and barking drink orders to his sidekick with holiday cheer.) “um, i’m sorry but we’re out of eggnog, can i get you something else?”

stupidest tool that ever tooled: (i can now notice him actually getting stupider and more toolish as i stand behind him) “wait, you mean you literally don’t have anymore eggnog?”

starbucks employee: (now looking confused as ever at his question) “well, um, yes, we literally don’t have anymore eggnog”

stupidest tool that ever tooled: (acting like any other customer not able to get eggnog at 9 in the morning - oh wait, nobody orders eggnog in the morning) “this is some kind of joke, right? you’re trying to tell me that you’ve literally run out of eggnog” (as if he hadn’t already used and emphasized that word enough, and in horrible context)

starbucks employee: (and i swear he said this) “i am literally telling you that we have literally run out of eggnog”

stupidest tool that ever tooled: (not even catching wind of the employee making fun of him) “well um, well.......you guys are fucking liars! why would you be out of eggnog?! i don’t understand!” (after this intelligent retort he walks out, probably going into the library next door and demanding some eggnog from them).

starbucks employee: (talking to me and another starbucks employee when stupidest tool that ever tooled is out of the store) “well, you gotta love some parts of this job. where else do you meet really stupid people this early in the morning?”

dear victoria's secret,

well shimmer me sexy.

you need to stop, stop, stop, stop. i think you’ve got me way too hooked. those semi-annual sale commercials are driving me crazy. or maybe its the body by victoria promotion you got going now that has me captivated. i can’t keep track of all your ads, but frankly i guess it doesn’t matter, long as you keep those models staring at me through the tv. you gots models that are out of this world. out of this world. that's no secret.

are your print and tv ads for men or women? do you have those hot models on the boob tube just so all us guys go wild and start talking about them like all the time and start posting about them on the web and women listen read and get all jealous and shit and rush out to your stores and buy all that lingerie just to satisfy their men because because? please please please tell me i’m right.

so does the “it’s back” promotion have anything to do with a woman's actual back? i’m a guy, i’m clueless. maybe i’m paying too much attention to the women instead of what you’re trying to say in the commercials. if not then what is the “it’s back” really all about?

i’m not so sure about your (new?) clothing line. i like the whole keeping everything you sell very secretive and sexy and sexy and sexy. what’s with the new pants and shirts? i’m sure you can make some pants that show some nice form in the you-know-what-area, but what’s so secret about them? and do you really sell sweaters now? how is a sweater staying with your image as tight fitting, sleek, smooth, sexy, and body shaped? i say stay with the bras and panties, maybe the swimwear, the sleepwear can stay, the beauty products can stay, but the clothing and shoes may need to be re-thought a bit.

does tyra banks just get younger every year? hasn’t she been modeling for you for like 10 years? isn’t she only like 25? my god that woman is hot as hot and whatever you do don’t lose her, she’s your bread and butter.

and you know what i hate? – when you walk by one of your stores and you kind of peek inside and try not to stare too much because you think there are a bunch of women in there just waiting to tell you to piss-off and leave them alone. how its the only store you really want to go into out of the entire mall, yet you can’t because you’re too scared? how you know that if you walk in you’ll see a parade of women just walking around in push-up bras and demi cups and seamless bras and no wire bras and miracle bras and v-string panties and thongs and low rise panties and bikinis and oh my god i’m turning myself on right now. how you know they’ll ask you for your opinion and if they feel like the right size and, well, maybe i went too far.

or, you know what i wish i could hate? when you actually get the courage to go in a store and you’re looking for something real sexy for your real sexy and you haven’t a clue the fuck to do. you’re in a store filled with bras and panties and you just freeze because there’s so much naughtiness surrounding you. you feel like you just woke up in a dream because you’re face to face with panties and bras and women and women and more women asking you if you need any help and if you can describe the physical characteristics of your naked girlfriend to them and if her boobs are kind of like this and now you’ve got us just where you want us because we’re frozen and your employees are throwing handfuls of naughty lingerie into bags and this kind of perfume and that kind of body lotion and we just hand you our credit cards and get the shit out of there because we’re so scared and confused and excited and sexed and and.

you know?

oooooh boy. you got me going there. but really, you’ve got a good thing going, my hat is off to you. you’ve got one of the best brands out there, just as long as men keep on finding women sexy. so....... basically you’re set for awhile.

loving your angels forever,

raz

the latest craigslist post

you – standing in line at peet’s coffee yesterday in harvard square at about 2pm, ordering an iced coffee with a shot of something-er-other.

me – that guy a few feet behind you that kept on pushing and trying to get ahead of the other people in line just to catch another look at you. that guy who was eyeing you kind of funny and licking his lips while moaning? me. that guy behind you closing his eyes now and then trying to visualize you naked and trying to get a permanent imprint of your bod in his brain? me. not following me here? maybe this will help - i was also trying to grab your ass, you may have felt a hand kind of pinch your right ass-cheek to make sure it was real? me.

i could tell you were playing hard to get though because you gave a yelp when i pinched your sweet buttocks and turned to leave without even saying hi to me. i saw your eyes though babe, that was either an evil stare or the fuck-me-hard-right-now stare, i couldn’t tell for sure. i dig your style babe, sometimes i play hard to get, its fun.

i guess it turned you on when i followed you out of the store because you started walking really fast, remember? yeah, and i bet you didn’t think i’d start running after you when you decided to toss the coffee and start sprinting?

last laugh is on me though because you took the hard to get play too far – i can’t sprint for shit. you lost me when you ducked into urban outfitters and went out the other side somewhere.

if you’re looking to play a few more games just drop me a line, i’m up for it. i’m wicked worth it. here’s your second chance babe. email me. ok?

my letter to jetblue today:

dear jetblue,

you rock my world. you are the cool of cool. you are like no other. you have set a new standard for the airline industry.

how are you cool? –

those cool little tv’s in each seat?
those cool (unlimited!) little snacks and drinks?
those funny flight attendants and pilots?
the amazing amount of room in every seat?
those incredibly cheap fares?

tomorrow i’m leaving on a different airline and i’m sorry, i really am. but you don’t fly to phoenix from boston, or phoenix to seattle, or seattle to boston. why don’t you? you break my heart and i dread having to fly for so long without my little tv. now my only options are to just sit there and try to read or sleep, which is always impossible for me. i won’t be getting any cool snacks and drinks, instead i’ll be getting a miniature bag of peanuts and a soda instead of iced tea. i won’t be looking forward to the announcements from the flight attendants or the pilot, instead i’ll be trying to cover my ears and ignore them. and since i don’t have a first class ticket i’ll be crammed in next to joey-snores-a-lot and cathy-cries-a-lot instead of relaxing and stretching out in your leather lazy-boy recliner seats.

be warned blue, you need to watch out for the competition. that new ted airline that broke off of united? trouble. that new song airline that is giving out like a million new ipod mini’s and 10 million itunes songs? trouble. the fact that southwest now pays its customers to fly with them? trouble. that new independence airline that has those print ads that make absolutely no sense? well, shouldn’t be too much trouble.

can you do me a favor? can you start doing flights to seattle from boston? could you do that for me? i don’t do nyc at all so i can’t take your cheap jfk - tacoma flight ever. i’ve got a friend out there that i’d love to see more often but you just ain’t helping me here. help me help you. you fly into about 20 cities in florida, just slash one of those and open up a new logan – tacoma run. please?

in conclusion: keep the cheap eats and direct tv. keep on hiring those comedians that also know how to fly planes. keep an eye out for those idiots who are trying to steal your style. give yourself a pat on the back for being so innovative and keeping the cool. and open up that logan - tacoma run sooner than later.

lovin’ ya,

raz

my office has a window

the entire 7 floor building only has like 10 windows, so in a way i’m pretty lucky to have a window in my office. i was told when i started here that the building won some kind of award for its design. to this i said “bullshit, this building is just a load of brick and crap put together by someone completely retarded.” later the award was confirmed, along with my statement. but since then i’ve been trying to figure out why it won this award.

it took about a year and a half before i began to appreciate the design concept. i’m really starting to dig the castle-like features, especially the moat and the secret staircase. how many buildings do you know of that have a moat and a secret staircase? not only do we have a moat, but we have two drawbridges! – one on either side of the building! or, we used to at least. unfortunately they had to make the drawbridges permanent bridges like 20 years ago because in the winter/spring the bridges would expand/contract too much and started to fall apart. so now we’re stuck with boring permanent bridges, and pretty vulnerable to any kind of attack in my opinion.

i could tell more about this “castle” i work in, but this is really just about my window. so each window in the building is suppose to face or be positioned towards a certain open area where we would be in danger of cannon fire (to go along with the castle idea). i’ve always said they took the theme a little too far when it came to the lack of windows. but anyway, i’m up there on the 5th floor with a window that faces the cambridge common. my window is like the typical castle window – tall and skinny, but with glass. i have to say, i have a pretty incredible view. the window makes me want to stare out it like all the time. i stare out it and i daydream. i stare out it and just think. i stare out it and just watch. this is always when someone walks into my office and i have to turn around and tell them i was on guard duty, keeping an eye out for any cannon attack. if i had a camera i’d be able to show you how cool it looks when its snowing on the common. or when the sun sets over the city at night. or all the pretty colored trees in the fall. or the black tie parties in the gated backyard of the mansion next to us. or...........

to keep things incredibly boring and horribly written:

two months ago i’m looking out the window at the building below us and i’m watching some painters hop out of a truck and start to unload some ladders and paint and shit. its funny though, because just this spring i was thinking how the building needed new paint and that they would probably hire someone to do it this summer. having painted like a million houses myself i tried to give it a rough estimate, and i came up with the following: it would take 2 people 2 weeks to scrape, prime and give it two coats of paint, give or take for rainy weather. total bill would be somewhere around $5,000 – but then again i’d have to double check that because who knows what the markup is in cambridge. anyway, i’m more than curious how close i can come to this estimate and start to keep a close eye on the work that these painters are doing.

day 1, 10am: unloaded equipment. walked around house like 30 times. did a lot of pointing at cars parked in the parking lot right next to the house. sat in the shade and had lunch for about 2 hours (my kind of lunch!). left after lunch.

day 2, 10:30am: 1st worker arrives and sits on lawn, hour later 3 others arrive and do the same until the boss shows up and gives a speech for an hour or so, then he leaves. walked behind the shed and smoked a joint. then they continue to sit in the shade and talk until 3pm when they leave.

day 3, 10am: the 4 workers show up and put up a few ladders. its hot out, so they only spend about 10 minutes at a time up on the ladders scraping paint. no progress by lunchtime. after lunch and a joint behind the shed a buddy of theirs stops by on his new motorcycle, which they look at and talk about for about 2 hours, then quit for the day.

day 4,5,6,7,8,9 &10: repeat day 3 but add one more trip behind the shed for each new day.

day 11: first bucket of paint opened and the primer is applied. its about this time that i stop keeping track of their progress and realize its going to take these guys all summer to finish this house. instead i keep track of a few memorable moments:

-the time one of them spilled a bucket of paint all over himself. – he was at the top of the ladder and he stupidly set the bucket on the slanted roof above him as he was getting ready to paint on the other side of the ladder. the bucket tipped on its own as soon as he set it on the roof. funny shit as i look out and see him screaming for his buddies behind the shed. of course they quit for the day after that incident.

-the time they broke a windshield of a car when a ladder fell. (i didn’t see this actually happen unfortunately, i only saw the aftermath).

-the time one of them was moving a ladder and hit someone’s truck in the parking lot, putting a big dent in the drivers side door. watching them debate over what they were going to do about it was the best part. it took them like 20 minutes before they figured out it might be a good idea to tell the owner it was them – how else could the door have a monster dent in it after a day of sitting in a parking lot next to a bunch of people with ladders?

-the time i look down when i hear a loud crash and see that one of them has dropped a huge wooden shutter from the top of the ladder onto the central a/c unit beside the house. again i saw them try to cover their tracks real fast as if it never happened, cleaning up the broken shutter and hiding it behind the shed to fix later. then they smoked a joint over it and must have decided to tell because the next day i saw a repair truck pull in the drive to look over the central a/c unit.

-the many, many times the boss would show up while they were behind the shed smoking a joint. he would walk around the house, looking up at four empty ladders and start cursing and walking real fast towards the shed. then he’d get all pissed and start yelling and telling them they were slow as shit. for real, he would yell and they would say sorry and shit while heading back to the ladders. things never changed. the next day they’d be out there behind the shed with nobody on watch for the boss, smoking away, waiting to get yelled at.

and the thing about behind the shed is that they could go there and be hidden from everyone, everyone except me of course, because i’ve got my birds eye vantage point spy window. it was always fun to watch them behind the shed smoking and laughing and having a good time, relaxing and enjoying the only decent part of the job.

the work began on june 2nd and today is the 10th of august. i shit you not they are still working on this house. they are the slowest workers i have ever seen in my life and it must be costing the boss like a million dollars to pay these idiots for all these hours. i’m not sure how the boss has not fired these people and hired new painters, no way he is making money on this house. the more days they work the slower they become, if this is even possible, given they started at the slowest pace ever. the more days they work the more work they create - like the time they painted the trim on the back side the same color as the house. this annoyed the boss to no end, caused a major shouting ordeal, and added a good week to the whole job.

but i’m not all that concerned with how long it will take them. they can take all summer and fall for all i care, at least i’ll have something interesting to watch and laugh at for a couple more months.

i’ll give you half, of everything i own

currently listening to: dave matthews, dodo. i know, sad. but good.

currently reading: the pugilist at rest, and because i’m sappy fucker - suzanne’s diary for nicholas.

currently happy about: that today is my friday.

currently fucking: that lunchtime girl i wrote about awhile ago.

currently depressed about: the red sox.

currently thinking: when i’ll be able to afford an ipod.

currently smoking: the roommates imported camel lights.

currently working on: one kick-ass short story.

currently eating: nothing.

currently drinking: starfucks iced americano, tall.

currently flossing with: oral b – satin floss.

currently thinking of buying: something really cool and interesting. like groceries.

currently wishing: i didn’t have tomorrows paycheck spent already.

so you want to invest in google

so don’t we all. or do we?

since i’m a freelance angel investor i figured i could give some quality advice to the people not in the know.

no but honestly, i’m not an expert by any means, though feel i can get a pretty good idea about a company and where they might be headed after doing some research - so here is what i do know: i’ve never ever ever been so completely unsure and so completely confused about the future of a company than i am with google right now.

while most companies will come out blasting warnings about earnings due to such and such in the future and potential long term effects of bla bla, never have i seen anything like this:

(selected pieces from prospectus & not in any specific order)

Google is not a conventional company.

If opportunities arise that might cause us to sacrifice short term results but are in the best long term interest of our shareholders, we will take those opportunities. We will have the fortitude to do this. We would request that our shareholders take the long term view.

Many companies are under pressure to keep their earnings in line with analysts’ forecasts. Therefore, they often accept smaller, predictable earnings rather than larger and less predictable returns. Sergey and I feel this is harmful, and we intend to steer in the opposite direction.

Our business environment changes rapidly and needs long term investment. We will not hesitate to place major bets on promising new opportunities.

We will not shy away from high-risk, high-reward projects because of short term earnings pressure. Some of our past bets have gone extraordinarily well, and others have not. Because we recognize the pursuit of such projects as the key to our long term success, we will continue to seek them out. For example, we would fund projects that have a 10% chance of earning a billion dollars over the long term. Do not be surprised if we place smaller bets in areas that seem very speculative or even strange when compared to our current businesses. Although we cannot quantify the specific level of risk we will undertake, as the ratio of reward to risk increases, we will accept projects further outside our current businesses, especially when the initial investment is small relative to the level of investment in our current businesses.

In the transition to public ownership, we have set up a corporate structure that will make it harder for outside parties to take over or influence Google. This structure will also make it easier for our management team to follow the long term, innovative approach emphasized earlier. This structure, called a dual class voting structure, is described elsewhere in this prospectus. The Class A common stock we are offering has one vote per share, while the Class B common stock held by many current shareholders has 10 votes per share. New investors will fully share in Google’s long term economic future but will have little ability to influence its strategic decisions through their voting rights.

use of proceeds:
We currently have no specific plans for the use of the net proceeds of this offering. We anticipate that we will use the net proceeds received by us from this offering for general corporate purposes, including working capital. In addition, we may use a portion of the proceeds of this offering for acquisitions of complementary businesses, technologies or other assets. We have no current agreements or commitments with respect to any material acquisitions. Pending such uses, we plan to invest the net proceeds in highly liquid, investment grade securities.

risk factors, a few of the many included in their report:
We face significant competition from Microsoft and Yahoo.

We expect our growth rates to decline and anticipate downward pressure on our operating margin in the future.

Our operating results may fluctuate, which makes our results difficult to predict and could cause our results to fall short of expectations.

We generate our revenue almost entirely from advertising, and the reduction in spending by or loss of advertisers could seriously harm our business. – (About 98%)

and if you didn’t know the following already you may find this interesting:
We encourage our employees, in addition to their regular projects, to spend 20% of their time working on what they think will most benefit Google. This empowers them to be more creative and innovative. Many of our significant advances have happened in this manner. For example, AdSense for content and Google News were both prototyped in “20% time.” Most risky projects fizzle, often teaching us something. Others succeed and become attractive businesses.

financially speaking:
generally a good thing when revenue increases 86 fold, then 5 fold, 5 fold, 5 fold, and most likely 3 fold at the end of fy’04.

generally a good thing when net income goes from (in thousands): ($14,690) to $300,000+ in just 4 years.

but if you broke this down by quarter then you could almost cry because the numbers fluctuate so much, which will speak trouble in years to come because investors live and die by the release of quarterly results.

cost of revenues is floating around 40-48% of total revenues. for normal companies this would be great, the product has a high mark-up. for an abnormal company like google this is bad, what exactly is their cost of this revenue? remember, the only thing they make money on is ads. understandably, part of the cost would be expenses associated with operating their data centers (which might include depreciation, energy and some bandwidth costs), and the costs associated with processing customer transactions for the ads. but these costs are insignificant compared to what the real costs of revenue are - the real costs associated with revenue are the traffic acquisition costs, or, payments made to their google network members. while i can’t get a good enough answer from google about what these costs actually are, i am incredibly curious, because at the end of fy’04 this may cost them as much as a billion dollars, and i feel like a fool not knowing what the christ these are!

net income:
insane fluctuation, once again. 8% of total revenues, up to 22%, down to 7% and now at about 10% over the past 4 years. what would cause this? the inability to manage growth, or, inability to manage the costs and expenses related to doing business. r&d, sales and marketing, general and administrative costs, interest income or loss, these all will fluctuate rapidly as a company grows, and being able to manage them while on the way up is a hard thing to do. steady and predictable growth leads to predictable net income. google does not or will not have steady growth and as a result they will have an incredibly hard time managing costs and expenses associated with their business constantly doing well then poorly then well and so on.

generally speaking:
i like how honest and straightforward google is about where they think the company will be going. they don’t have the faintest idea. they don’t have a clue what will become of them 3-5 years from now. they don’t have a clue as to how they’ll spend the billions from this ipo. they don’t have a clue as to how exactly microsoft and yahoo! will effect their business in the near future. they don’t care about managing growth and smoothing out quarterly results and end of year numbers. they don’t want the public to come anywhere near close enough to actually own a significant share of the company. they sell one product and one product only and have no plans whatsoever of changing this anytime soon (at least they didn’t disclose any information about this, which probably would have been an excellent idea). none of these things are typical, or even close to typical for your normal public company or normal company going public. not even close. very close to what every other internet stock was.

is there anything more interesting than researching a company like this? no. no. simply no.

we have a company that the majority of people will be scarred and terrified of investing in.

or do we?

we have a company that people will grab a hold of and ride for a few years, believing that good things will come in time, that the high-risk/high-reward promise will pay off.

i don’t know, i simply don’t have a clue. i think that after the ipo this stock could see some of the most drastic swings we’ve ever seen in a stock before – history would tell us that its in for some wild times, especially the first year or two. the problem, or maybe the good thing is that this company will have money. they’ll be profitable this year, maybe next year, and they’ll have plenty of cash on hand to invest in whatever they want to after the ipo. we’re not talking about a company that’s been around for 4 years and is looking for an ipo to get out of debt, much the case with every other internet stock ipo.

i do know that i’m completely excited about this company, and excited to watch what it does. i’m excited for the release, i’m excited to see what they do with the money, and i’m excited to see their numbers at the end of the year.

we have 3 months till the release, 3 weeks, 3 days, who knows?!

purple dogs and fucking money, man

its me on a bench eating my lunch somewhere.

its maybe monday at like 1pm and its stinking hot out.

but i found a bench in the shade and the ice coffee tastes sooooo good.

its me taking a deep breath as some wack-job comes my way looking for conversation. i guess i’m ready for it though, its monday, its hot, i’m tired, i could use a good laugh:

wack-job: “did you hear that news report?! they just stole the presidents penis! can you believe it?!”

me: “well, no, i didn’t see that, but i don’t think that makes any sense.”

wack-job: “i know it doesn’t make any sense, but its true, i just saw it on the news!”

me: “how did they steal the presidents penis?”

wack-job: “you know the world troub-b-b-ble right now?”

me: “yeah, the world is overpopulated, that’s the trouble.”

wack-job: “no! no! no! the troub-b-b-ble with the world is fucking money, man”

me: “wait, what did you mean about the presidents penis?”

wack-job: “my fucking dog is fucking dying man, he’s all purple and can’t bark no more.”

me: “where is your dog?”

wack-job: (always staying on subject) “that’s because the government rules us......man........you fucking watch man, grow some eyes in the back of your head man, that’s what you need, that’s what i did.”

me: “i already did that, i got eyes in the back.......”

wack-job: (turning and walking away) “take for instance the last movie you watched man........they........always........”

and he’s gone.

now i don’t know what to feel. was i not interesting enough to stay and talk to? did he have someplace else he needed to be? did he hear a thing i said? did he know what he was saying? did he care what he was saying? was anything he said true?

ah, maybe it doesn’t matter, i’ll take it for what it was, an interesting experience.

a lineup w/o #5

its like how people say you always remember where you were when such and such happened. i remember where i was when we traded nomah garcia parah, though i guess it was only a couple days ago.

i don’t know what i think of this nomar trade. i guess i’m happy. i guess i feel good for him. i guess i knew it was coming. but i know we’ll miss him.

what i do know is that we had one hell of a shortstop for 8 years. how many times did we watch him go deep in the hole and come up throwing for an impossible out at first?

for 8 years we had one of the best batters in the league, some say the best. how many 30 game hit streaks or close to it did he have? something like a .330 lifetime average? .360 & .370 just a few years ago? .360 for the month of july this year?!

but i know about the problems in the clubhouse this year. i know that he was not happy. the guy hasn’t smiled in months. his teammates say he just hasn’t been himself lately. he had to think his days in boston were coming to an end. we all knew there was still bitterness from the pre-season trade talks. after keeping him in the dark, going behind his back trying to sign a-rod to fill his place, then telling him we love him and want him to stay? management knew it was time for him to go. his team knew it was time for him to go. his fans knew it was time for him to go. and he definitely knew it was time to leave.

but doesn’t this always happen to us, especially recently? roger clemens, mo vaughn, wade boggs, tony clark? why do they all leave frustrated? why do we feel the need to raise these incredible players, then just trade them away for nothing? and why do they always end up with the yankees? don’t even think for a second nomar won’t be with the yankees next year. i mean the yankees didn’t need a shortstop last year yet they picked up a-rod, an all-star shortstop and put him at third base. they won’t need a shortstop next year, but they’ll pick up nomar and put him in right field or some bullshit, just to make us cry.

and what about his injuries? obviously he’s not back to 100% just yet. obviously we need someone who is 100% right now as we gear up for the playoffs. obviously we could get a better price for him while he’s playing rather than injured or during the off-season.

but i’m happy for the cubbies, i really am. he went to a good team and a good city. he looks like he’s happy and i’m glad to see him smiling again. they’ll root for him, give him a million standing ovations as he makes impossible plays and finishes this year batting like .400 with 0 errors. they’ll laugh and finally get used to his body movements before he steps to the plate. they'll tell that catcher of theirs to give his number up to the new star of the team. they'll probably call him by his real name for the first time in 8 years. they’ll take care of him, maybe even win the world series against us this year. then they’ll give the yanks a call in january and get about a billion dollars for him just because that's what always happens, also because the yankees suck, more like especially because the yankees suck.

but make nomah doubt about it, he’ll surely be missed.

great scott

one time i met this really cool girl.

she's kind of famous. like she has now been a little more than an extra in like 3 movies kind of famous.

one of the movies was even good.

and semi-popular.

and good.

i can’t give any real clues as to who she is because she’s famous and all. or at least plans to be. she said to keep it anonymous in here.

and you know this isn’t going to be a lie because how could i make this shit up?

anyway, i just have to tell you about the time she was auditioning for Boston Public, the tv show.

i had (actually) run into her in the boston common one afternoon. i was walking towards the loews theatre and was watching the tennis players at the public courts, sizing them up, checking out their form, you know. she was coming from the other direction and studying a map. we collided and my ice coffee went everywhere. this has now put me in panic mode because the movie starts in 10 minutes and the nearest ice coffee is at fucking donuts, which i can’t stand. we both say we’re sorry and shit and that it was both of our faults and how we’re both fucked because we’ve got starbucks all over ourselves and places to be. she tells me about her audition and how this was her big break and now its ruined. i tell her about the movie i’m about to see and that my chances of making it on time are ruined. she looks at me kind of funny. then i remember what she said to me and quickly try to fix the situation. i tell her to send me the dry cleaning bill and start to write down my address for her. she starts to calm down a bit and i ask her if she’s been in any other movies or tv shows. then she tells me about her upcoming role in laurel canyon starring beckinsale and bale. i give a puzzled look because it sounds interesting but only because of kate oh-my-god-are-you-so-beautiful beckinsale. she immediately recognizes the puzzled look and stares back with eyes that say “i know she’s pretty, but i am too, no?” then we talk about the movie for a bit and she tells me a bunch of stuff that only someone working on the movie would know. like how christian bale snorts cocaine like all the time and even tried to hit on her. this is fascinating shit to me and i want to hear more but she has to get to the audition that she won’t land anymore because of my coffee. i apologize again and remind her to send me the bill. she says she will. i go to the movie, she goes to her audition.

very much later that night:

i’m in my apartment back in JP bullshitting with my roommate about how i still don’t have a job and that i’m getting desperate and shit. then the doorbell rings. funny because we don’t know many people and they wouldn’t be just randomly stopping by, especially this late. we do a quick rock/paper/scissors to see who gets it (we live on the third floor and its a long way down).

i lose and i’m scared. the last time i answered the door this late at night it was a cop who wanted to question me about the man laying on our steps with a knife in his stomach. i told him i didn’t have a clue and asked him who was going to clean up all the blood. he told me to call my landlord about that and joked that maybe i could clean it up for him and get a reduction in rent for the month. ha ha, very funny stuff.

so i’m not exactly thrilled to be opening the door right now. but when i get there i find it to be the woman i ran into at the common earlier. wow! i’m all happy and shit and show it because i can never be suave. she tells me that she bombed the audition and that she wants to get drunk and stupid. and since i’m the only other person she knows in boston i guess i’m the one who has to take her out. that and it was my coffee that may have ruined her chances. she puts forth a winning argument and we head off to tripple d’s just down the street. a few hours later she confesses that she actually slept with christian bale and that she’s not 27, she’s 35. this is all just blowing my mind. i mean she slept with an actor?! a famous person?! i don’t know anyone who has slept with anyone famous and this is cool. wait, did she say 35? 35 is like 20 years away for me and i tell her. she gets all “holy shit you are so young and now i want to fuck you so bad” on me. i tell her to keep it down and that maybe we should leave before we get kicked out (which may have been a slight lie because tripple d’s encourages loud and obnoxious behavior, along with fighting).

we’re back at my place and she tells me that i have to carry her up my stairs because i just have to.

now we’re standing in the living room and she’s got her hands all over me. i’m still playing hard to get though because that’s just my style. my hard to get play usually works for like 2.2 seconds.

now she’s got her hands down my pants and she knows she has control. women are so evil. she did the whole biting at my shoulder and neck and gasping in my ear while she guided my hands up the front of her shirt.

and then she complained that it was getting hot. i told her my room has the a/c and she leaves a trail of cloths in the hallway on the way to my room.

loud.

very loud sex.

loud as in i had the stereo blasting and i was still worried that the neighbors would be getting off just listening to her scream. loud as in i knew the roommate was awake, if not from the screaming then from the vibrations that were shaking the entire apartment. but he’d understand.

it was incredible and we both knew it.

an hour later we’re both just laying in bed dripping with sweat because it turns out i didn’t actually have a/c in my room. apparently she doesn’t even recall the fact that i told her i did because she tells me how cool it is to be all sweaty and slippery.

minutes later we’re asleep.

and if i told you the details of the sex we had the next morning she’d never call me anymore.

and i need her to call me to tell me what movie to watch for her in next.

i like it when she does that.

hope is on the way!

a DNC update

i had to check out the action down at the fleet center and surrounding area last night. really i just wanted a few free stickers and a button or two. i also figured they'd have a few choice W-hating pins available for sale, and they did, for like $10.

so there are a few police here and there down by faneuil hall. a few as in there are more police, security guards, mbta police, military police, national guard, and who knows who else than actual people at this action. no kidding. i can't tell if i felt really safe or really scarred. oh! and i spotted 3 different snipers! oh man do i wish i had a camera, you wouldn't believe some of the awesome opportunities i had last night with all this police action.

i never actually made it to the fleet center because there is no way to get to it. no way. no way at all. i dare anyone to try. i walked around that place for an hour, ALL THE WAY AROUND. i couldn't find an in. or at least a way to get closer than say a hundred yards. maybe if i jumped into one of the protest marches. i got lost once and ended up in the free speech zone. that's a laugh, let me tell you. this dude was begging to get up on stage and be heard. once he gets up he just says "words, words, words, words" really loud. over and over for 10 minutes. nice.

celebrity sightings: eh, hardly.
if you saw chris matthews on hardball ask some dude with a (new!) grey fleece what they wanted john edwards to speak about last night then you saw me. if you watch cbs and saw the same grey fleece shaking hands with my man dean right outside faneuil hall then you saw me.

traffic report:
if you happen to take broadway into harvard square every morning then don't sweat it, the sidewalks are still clear. no problems. no problems if you are walking or biking that is.

edwards speech:
ok, the dude knows how to speak. the speech was WAY on the boring side and it almost seemed like he didn't have anything to say. but it didn't matter because he can deliver. he delivers with that smile and those white teeth. all i know is that "hope is on the way." what are we going on fate now?

random bag searches:
ok so i've heard a bit about how there is some group out there ready to sue the city of boston over these random searches. something about how its against their rights and they feel awkward about having to open their bags in front of strangers, and if they don't open the bags then they have to leave the bus/train/whatever and its not fair.
here is where i stand: if you need to sacrifice a little for your own protection, the protection of the city, and everyone else in the city during this one crazy messed up week then what's the problem? is it really worth the stink? honestly. does anyone else agree or am i alone on this one?

nothing doing

i decided to take a new job today. finally.

quitting the current job.

gave my two weeks notice and everything. well, tried to at least.

i needed to get out. the stress is just too much. not hard working stress, more of the annoying bullshit stress about bullshit.

truth be told i've been looking for a new job since the day i started my current job. great. it only took a lifetime to actually find it.

you know what sucks though? i get to hand in my two weeks notice, and get to get it off my chest and count down the days, and get to tell the boss i'm out, and get to and get to.

but i don't get to. because i don't have a boss. i don't even get to. i don't even fucking get to.

so now i sit in my office with my two weeks notice letter in hand and nobody to give it to. how humiliating. finally i decided that maybe it should be taken to hr, maybe they'd know what to do with it. but hr was closed for the day. closed for the day? they had a little sign on the door "please call again." whatever the fuck that means - what am i suppose to call them when i'm standing in front of the door? tomorrow? the fuck tomorrow. now you've really taken the wind out of my sails. no walk in and storm out for me, talk about fucking me off. i feel like one big crap of fuck.

so now i'm back in my office.

probably crying.

probably pissed off.

probably about to go ape shit.

definitely wishing that what i'm writing could be true.

send me!

we’ve got all your DNC up-to-date news right here on razyboy.com

you won’t miss a beat about everything the convention has to offer in boston this year.

such as:

some woman senior senator from maryland is suppose to be important but can’t give speeches for crap and so nobody listened to her.

yes, jimmy carter is getting old but still has a thing or two to say that makes sense. i think.

john kerry had his commanding officer over in vietnam get up and say a word or two about his military career. i can’t say for sure though cause i went out for a smoke break.

hillary rocked the mic last night and convinced me that she should be prez in ’08 if bush wins this year. i’m fairly sure this was what she was trying to do with her speech last night – “if bush wins don’t worry, i’ll just take over in ‘08”. wait....maybe, big maybe that she was endorsing kerry.

bubba took the stage and i almost cried. why can’t he be running for prez? please please please lets all vote for big slick this november. i don’t want to vote for kerry! i want clinton/clinton on that ticket! seriously, how cool would it be to have bubba as prez again, and to have hillary as the vp. then they could switch in ’08, hillary the prez, bubba the vp. they really did look great up there. if you missed their speeches then shame on you. it def felt like the entire day was devoted to them, everyone just waiting for them to speak and for us to listen and cry and wish they were running instead of whoever that old dude with the young dude for vp is that we’re forced to vote for in a couple months. someone please cheer me up here, tell me that kerry is just the ticket to ride.

traffic report:

i can tell you that the sidewalks in cambridge this morning were very much clear and easy to navigate.

celebrity sightings:

none so far, but i’m not missing bubba today at lunch. he’s sure to be at charlie’s kitchen. meet me there for lunch.

my secret service encounters

secret service men were loading up on peets coffee this morning.

how could i tell they were secret service? i asked and they told me.

when i asked who they were secretly servicing they were quick to give me an answer that consisted soley of blank stares. then one of them drew a deep breath and explained how they weren’t allowed to say anything. i told them i understood, that i work in secret myself, so if they need to keep it on the dl i’d understand. they didn’t budge. then i said they prob had the bubba detail since they were now walking out of peets and towards the charles hotel. this prompted them to make a quick detour and ask me how i knew so much. i left it at that and walked back to work.

only i didn’t really. i’m walking down mt auburn because i don’t want to get back to the office so quick. i see a black cadillac with tinted windows sitting outside of darwins. on the bumper there’s this sticker that says “bush in ’00.” i knock on the window and yet another secret service dude is looking at me but not saying “what?” i took his silence to mean that i should start the convo – “whatcha all doing outside darwins? the fleet center is downtown man.” the dude thanks me for the info and asks for d’s to the fleet center. i tell him only if they’ll tell me who they’re guarding. “no prob, we’re here with W and he’s in there grabbing us some sandwiches.” i say “wouldn’t that be your job?” he says that the prez had nothing better to do really, he ran out of dvd’s to watch in the back and has been begging to get out of the car since they left washington late last night.

it’s only now that it hits me how odd this situation is. i ask “why is the prez in cambridge on the monday of the DNC?” they say “can you keep a secret?” “the prez insisted that the convention was for republicans and wanted to be driven up in secret just in case all his advisors turned out to be right for once.” i tell him that’s completely understandable.

then i ask him about the old bumper sticker. they tell me that at this point they might as well wait to see if he’s won the election before putting up a new one. smart cookies these guys are, for sure. then they ask if i want to go for a ride or try on their ear pieces. i have to draw the line here, because i’m not even on first lunch yet and i’ve already been gone like a ½ hour. but before i head off they ask me if i want to at least jump in the back seat and smoke down a fat one before W gets back. but then the dude in the back pipes up and says “shouldn’t we at least wait for the prez to get back since its his weed?” i tell them to go ahead without me and to take care, they tell me to take it easy.

i never did get to giving them those directions.

making easy money. part 2

and i know i lie in this blog a whole lot. but the situation i’m about to write is true. the situation is true as in it actually happened.

believe what you read here.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

its my turn to act. check or bet.

but holy goddess of beauty, yes, this happens to be some long lost cousin of aphrodite, and she’s sitting at the same foxwoods poker table as me.

how i’ve never been thrown into such complete luck.

how this woman has been in every sexual fantasy dream i’ve ever had and now every sexual fantasy dream that i will ever have.

how right at this moment i’m drooling on my poker chips.

how in the next moment the dealer is slapping me on the head because its still my turn to act. check or bet.

and the dealer soon realizes that we’re not here to play poker anymore. as soon as the aphrodite cousin sits down we all just become zombies. we are captivated by her beauty. she has mesmerized us and we are now only interested in watching her.

wow. so much fun to just sit there watching. watching as she looks at her cards. watching as she picks up her chips. watching as she rakes in a huge pot of chips. these are the only things she seems to be doing every two minutes. and we just keep on watching.

step 1) she looks at her cards
step 2) she puts chips into the pot, over and over during the hand
step 3) she rakes in the entire pot and stack the chips

she does this for every hand.

we see her doing these steps, but we’re not actually paying attention to anything other than her beauty. we see that she seems to be doing an awful lot of raking-in pots and stacking of chips, but we never actually see what she’s doing.

those of us that are sitting directly across from her have the distinct advantage of seeing some major cleavage. this cleavage is beyond inappropriate to be showing around in public. she’s got cleavage spilling out everywhere. cleavage just begging to be looked at. cleavage just asking for eyes.

come to think of it i really don’t think she was wearing a shirt, or a bra for that matter. i think she was sitting there topless, or so it appeared. i mean she has boobs that are JUST RIGHT THERE MAN! they’re hanging right over the table as i say to her “MY GOD WOMAN! THOSE ARE SOME INCREDIBLE TITS!”

and is this really happening? am i really seeing what i’m seeing? and did i really just tell her she had incredible tits?

and right about now each and every guy at the table has got a woody the size of florida in their pants. we’re sitting there pulled right up close to the table, backs perfectly straight and sitting upright, trying to get rid of the hard-on that has just formed a tent in our pants. each and every one of us.

and we try to look away, try to visualize something else, but we keep looking back and seeing the boobs just waiting for our eyes to fall upon them. even when we look away the image is stamped in our brains and there is no getting them out of our sight.

and we’re sitting. we’re drooling. we’re starring. we’re trying to look away. we’ve all got erections that are bumping up against the bottom of the table as we try to adjust ourselves.

and speaking of adjustment. she’s got this new move that she does right after throwing some chips in the pot or raking in a pot – she’ll take a sip of her cranberry and vodka and sort of try to fix her bra because one of her nipples has practically popped out the top. only she never succeeds in fixing it, which may be the point. she kind of fools around in the general nipple area trying to make adjustments and practically ends up fully exposing her breasts. we can’t handle all this fondling of breast right before our eyes and we’re all holding our breath and keeping a tight grip on the side of the table in anticipation of the full exposure she’s about to give us. but it doesn’t happen. saved for the moment. its as if she’s bringing us to new peaks of satisfaction with each adjustment. but one more fondle and we’re done for. she definitely knows this.

and oh my god did it just get hot in here. the temperature has risen about a million and 10 degrees in the past 5 minutes and we’re all feeling it. there’s so much heat coming off this table that its just steaming the place up. and wouldn’t it just be the icing on the cake if her cranberry cocktail was dripping wet with beads of water on the outside of the glass from all this heat. oh please don’t go there, please don’t take a sip of that drink right now or we’ll all just explode when we see that drop of water touch one of those heavenly breasts.

and oh god she’s definitely reaching for the drink and i swear to christ she’s smiling like she knows what’s going to happen.

and holy shit she has definitely just closed her eyes as she leans her head back to take a sip.

and please dear lord this is not happening, its not possible to take in such a delightful sight.

and the breasts are right over the table now and we can see all the sweat beads of water racing towards the bottom of the glass and please dear god put it down before it drips onto your divine breasts and our erections just burst through the seams of our pants.

and the moment is lasting forever and nobody at the table is even breathing. the dealer has stopped and now can’t help but stare and wait for the drip. the entire poker room has definitely stopped and turned their attention towards the action at our table. you can hear a thousand security cameras in the ceiling whining and pumping full force to get a close-up on the cleavage and the drip.

and then the world just stops right before our eyes as we see that one drop of water from the edge of the glass descend towards her right breast.

and oh yes oh god here we go and we’re inches away from landing on those perfectly tanned and godly shaped breasts just sitting right there in front of us.

and landing. that drop of water is what we dream we are. we are the drop of water as it touches down and just spreads itself all over the top of her breast as if it owns the entire area. seeping down and around and over and under and on top of and just spreading and going wherever it feels.

and no she definitely did not just do what i think she did. she did not just wipe it off and lick her finger. holy mother of god she is leaving the finger in her mouth and now is making a sucking sound as she removes it from her mouth.

and it is at this moment that the table is lifted off the ground from all the raging hard-ons at the table and you hear this slight moan of satisfaction released from our lips at the same moment we all have the most incredible orgasms of our lives.

and this happens over and over for the next hour.

she’s dripping so much water over her breasts from that drink that i just want to reach out with a towel and help her out.

she’s got her shirt and bra so wet now they’re practically see-through.

that water on the side of the glass is so ice cold that its dripping onto those breasts and making her nipples stick out a good inch.

“dear god woman please let me dry you off already!” i say.

but she doesn’t follow what i’ve said because i’m really just moaning and groaning as i attempt to open my mouth.

no way she is getting ready to leave. no way she is stacking her chips into a chip rack and tipping the dealer. no way someone has just said “STAY AND LET US WATCH ONE MORE DRIP, PLEASE JUST ONE MORE!”

but she’s done. and she has an armload of chips in a chip rack pressed against her own rack that she has trouble carrying and holding onto as she bends over to pick up her purse.

one final view of those irresistible breasts as she bends over and they kind of rest on the table as she reaches for her purse. we all hold ourselves back from just reaching out and touching the untouchable. this is the last glimpse, the last heavenly view of those mountainous breasts.

and she’s gone.

and we now wipe the sweat from our brows and feel the erection shrink back down and get ready for the next hand.

and we reach for our chips as we go to bet but we have nothing left.

and we’ve been throwing so much money into each pot and not even paying attention that we’ve all lost our stacks of chips. our hands were throwing chips into each pot without our brains even knowing what was going on. we must have played 20 hands without even looking at a single card. and now our chips are making steady progress through the poker room and almost at the cash station. and now we all look over to the woman at the counter dropping bundles of chips at the cash window and picking up a wad of cash that she can barely fit into her purse.

and somehow we don’t feel like we’ve lost. somehow we all feel like it was worth it.

and we reach into our pockets, grab some more cash to play with, and kind of shake our heads wondering if that actually just happened.

next hand, and its check or bet to me.

carless for life

i know i don’t have money. usually.

i know i don’t own a car. usually.

i know i want to get a car. eventually.

i know i will get a car. sometime.

but how do you decide what car to get? if you have the money to buy a car and you’re looking for a car then how do you decide?

i watch like 400 ads for new cars on tv a day.

i hear like 500 ads for new cars or dealerships on the radio like every week.

i see like 600 ads for new cars in magazines and billboards each month.

i go past like 700 new car dealerships a year.

i still don’t know what car i would buy if i had the money.

after all this advertising shouldn’t i know by now which car i want to buy?

aren’t i in the key age group that all these car manufacturers target?

i’m clueless and i’m disappointed. because if i ever had the money to buy a new car then i don’t want to bother with spending the time trying to figure out which one i want. my mind should already be made up. all these years of watching and listening to these ads would be for not. and i feel bad for all these manufacturers and their advertising companies. i mean they’ve spent all that money on me trying to get me to buy their car, but i still don’t have a clue.

does anyone else know what car they want? am i the only person in the world who is like this?

i have to be the only person. everyone else with new cars figured out what they wanted. i wouldn’t even know where to start.

don’t get me wrong, i know generally what i’d get. if i suddenly won the lottery then maybe i’d be looking at a bmw or mercedes or audi or some shit. if i earned about $80k a year maybe i’d look at a volvo or vw or something. if i earned more than $20k a year i’d look at some kind of toyota or something.

but it gets worse.

because i don’t even know if i’d buy a car or a truck. or even what color it would be if i did know.

not only am i clueless about which company to go with, i don’t even know what type of new vehicle to go with!

i give all the marketers for new vehicles in the entire world a D- for effort on persuading me to buy a new vehicle.

the new infinity G35? not convinced.

the new bmw 7 series? not a chance.

the redesigned saab cross trainer 9-ass? don’t like.

the new ford f-150? ugly.

the vw golf? too expensive for something so basic.

so you see i do know a few things. but one of the jobs for a company marketing products is to eliminate the key features of the product that turn consumers away. this becomes easy when the product stays on the market for a long time. product was too expensive? lets cut some corners here and there. product wasn’t expensive enough? lets double the price. product wasn’t selling to the younger crowd? lets redesign the packaging.

car companies redesign every car that comes out. the next year they release a newer and better version. each and every company does this. at some point you would think that there was a car out there that caught my eye, and then went even further and grabbed my attention one day when the new model was released. because there are cars out there for everyone. each model is designed for a certain person. the cadillac seville? 84% of their buyers are age 54 and above. the vw golf? 23-31 age group. the bmw 5 series? designed for people that earn 70-110K a year, the 7 series is designed for those above 110k/year, and they make damn sure to put you in the right category, they have a brand to represent and they don’t want the wrong crowd taking over their look.

but hello?

how come i’m not in a category yet? which category should i be in? where do i fit in this puzzle? don’t these companies want to get a hold of me and start asking me questions? shouldn’t i be in some group counseling or focus group helping to figure out why i’ve yet to make up my mind? shouldn’t car companies just be giving me cars at this point since i haven’t figured it out yet? this problem is too expensive for them! they can’t afford to lose me! no way am i worth a lifetime of sales loss to them at my age because i don’t know what car to buy! this is outragous!

i do not have “the feeling.” i certainly do not need something that is “like a rock.” i don’t know what the hell “ford tough” is. i do not know what the tag line “driven” really means. i know if i buy a volvo it will be “for life.” i know i will “never follow” if i buy an audi. i know that a mercedes is “engineered like no other car in the world” – thank you for pointing out the obvious, as if we had no idea a mercedes was different than hyundai. and if inspiration really comes standard with chrysler then sign me up.

help me, help you. tell me what to buy. tell me which car is suppose to be mine. point me in the right direction. i want to finally say “oh yes, i forgot about that model, i knew there was a car out there meant for me!”

luck is me

so i get a break yesterday. finally.

i’m in harvard square on first lunch, just walking about, thinking about getting some juice from peet’s.

i’m walking by the T station and this chick stops me. right away i know she’s trying to sell me something cause she’s pretty and pretty girls don’t stop and want to talk to me.

turns out she’s not selling, she’s giving.

she asks me how i like my sunglasses and asks if i’ve always worn oakley sunglasses. i tell her i wouldn’t dream of anyone else, that the polarized action is the best thing invented since J-Lo’s ass. she likes to hear this and then asks me why i’m wearing them on such a cloudy day. i tell her that nobody can see me if i have them on, which is actually what i think. she gives a laugh and asks if i wear regular glasses as well. i tell her i do, but i don’t tell her the part about how i just lost them and can’t afford new ones. she asks if i’ve ever thought about getting oakley prescription glasses. i tell her no i never even knew they made regular glasses. she opens up her little black folder and hands me something while saying “if you think about getting new glasses soon consider using this coupon to get free oakley frames.” she goes on to say some bla bla about how they’re trying to launch some new line, they need to get the word out, they’re looking for people to represent the brand early and bla bla bla. all i can think about is finally being able to get some glasses and take out these contacts that have been in my eyes for the past month.

i tell her i could just kiss her i’m so happy.

she knows i’m serious and gives me the quizzical eye and tells me to just walk away slowly and call it even.

i tell her maybe she’s right, i shouldn’t push my luck.

my first stop on second lunch was the glasses store where i immediately tried on all the oakley eyewear and purchased the most expensive frame possible. ok, maybe not the most expensive because they were complete ass, but at least in the top 5 or so.

oh baby, i feel like i hit the jackpot.

making easy money. part 1

i’m going to let you in on a little secret here, which could net you some serious cash, but only if you’re a woman:

if you have boobs and learn to play poker you will be a millionaire in like 10 days.

let me explain how this happens, hypothetically of course.

so, say you’re down at foxwoods one saturday night and its like maybe 11pm. for example.

you go put your name on a list for a table.

you buy some chips and stand around for a minute.

your name gets called.

you sit down at the table.

you take a look at the people playing at the table and see what you’re up against:

most tables have like 10 people sitting at them, plus a dealer. this makes for a fairly crowded environment because the table really isn’t that big. the first thing that you do when you sit down is check where the dealer button is placed, because you’d like to know how much time you have to watch this game before playing. i usually like to watch for about 4 or 5 hands before actually playing, and tonight lets say you have maybe 5 hands to watch before playing.

watching is key to starting at a new table. you need to look at each player and try to figure out what kind of player you think they’ll be. you need to see if you recognize anyone from playing before and if you can recall anything that will help in today’s game. you need to know who has the chips and who doesn’t (less chips = more conservative/tighter play, usually). you need to find out if there are any aggressive players to your immediate left and right. basically you need to see if this table is even worth staying at and trying to play.

after 5 hands here is a hypothetical assessment of the table:

we have 2 players that you recognize and know play here like every waking hour, these players can be good or bad to play with – you recognize them at knowing how to play and they don’t know this.

we have 2 friends sitting next to each other, with a female friend standing behind watching, do doubt this combo has never played in a casino before (the way they look at their cards tells you they haven’t even watched poker on tv, and they have yet to catch on about a proper method of hiding the cards while looking at them).

you also have two people that appear to be drinking heavily – one right next to you that has jack daniels on his breath, nasty. one across from you with eyes and a constant smile that spell drunk.

the player to your immediate left may have played a bit and knows what he’s doing, but he’s checking out everyone at the table, which is never good. i usually prefer the kind of people that can’t read other people, you would hate to think this guy can tell what you have just by looking at you if he wants.

you also seem to have a player that can’t keep his eyes off the cards on the board as they fall. he does this for each hand while you’re sitting and watching. this could tell you he’s trying to figure out the best possible hand at any given moment and what hand has the best chance of winning and how many outs are left for such and such hand to have a 20% edge over the person who raised pre-flop and might be holding AQ suited. its people like these that are new to the game but have a serious understanding already – you can tell because he gives a facial expression of amazement or surprise every time the hand is finished, as if to approve or disapprove of how the hand was played and what the odds were. he even makes a comment on the odds of one hand coming through. if he played enough he would know how to keep the comments and facial expressions to a minimum.

we also have a player missing from the table, probably on a break to get food, use the bathroom or smoke. but we have a pretty good idea about what we’re up against, and it appears as though there could be money made at this table. you have a general read on everyone and you’re feeling fairly confident as you get ready for the first hand to be dealt to you.

but this is low-stakes poker, very low-stakes. nothing really gives you a serious edge at a table like this.

unless.

unless you are the person gone to use the bathroom or smoke or do whatever. because this person could happen to be a woman, the only woman playing at this table. not many women play poker here and often times you can go an entire night just playing with a bunch of guys. you may notice the friend combo kind of turn their heads and tap one of the drunk dudes on the arm and say something you can’t hear. you never need to really hear what they say if you can’t hear because its always the same. the only thing to take your attention away from the game of poker would be if a really hot girlfriend came to see how her boyfriend is doing. or maybe a pack of college girls that all came down to play slots and want to come see how the guys they came with are doing at poker. so you always want to check out what all the commotion is about. you pop your head up and look around until you see about 500 heads doing the same thing. you follow the general head direction until you see what everyone is looking at. hmm, yes indeed, the usual. some really hot chick has wandered into the poker room, no doubt lost and looking for a way out of this room full of guys that all seem to be looking at her. but she does seem to be walking rather briskly, as if she knows where she’s going. now she seems determined to actually get to the table you’re sitting at. and yes, holy shit, she does in fact seem to be sitting down in the empty chair at our table.

you will now proceed to basically hand your money over to her, though it will happen over a period of about 20 hands. you will be handing your money over to her because she has breasts, she has displayed them upon the table in a very distracting manor, and you keep your eyes on them instead of your money.

she knows this. you know this. there is no stopping this from happening.

the step by step process of what this will look like can be best described in part 2. which i'm working on.

misc

things i've heard today but have not researched because work has been blowing my ass:

shaq is being traded to the heat? isn't he like the best player ever and no way you can beat this guy even though he's like 32 and may be past his prime. no, i didn't recognize a single name of a player that is being traded for him. not good. no more phil? no more shaq? LA, you be sucking next year.

getting me worried: all these casino mergers happening lately.

john edwards is like 51? the kid looks like he just turned 30

we're thinking about trading nomar for the unit? we're suppose to have unbelievable pitching this year already, what's going on here? it doesn't matter what we do, the yanks will forever be making a trade one better than us. we get the unit the yanks get clemens back or something.

who would have thought apple shares would actually go up?

cat piss confession

i can’t hold the lie any longer. i need to get it out and if i don’t do it here i’ll never come clean.

i’ve been living a lie for the past two weeks. specifically to my roommates. fortunately (or unfortunately) i don’t think they read this, so i think the lie will never truly be unveiled. i don’t know if its better to live in shame or to admit the following:

there has been a complaint recently about the odor of cat piss all over our apartment. the owner of the cat has left town and we have been forced to take care of the marmot. unfortunately the cat doesn’t like its new owner(s) and we’ve attributed the massive peeing spree to him being annoyed with his new ownership. this is the story i’ve concocted and spread around for the past 2 weeks. this story is a lie.

i hate to finally say it but that is not cat piss you smell when you enter our apartment. that is my piss.

that smell in your closet? my piss
that smell on your dry cleaning? my piss
that smell on your backpack? my piss
that smell in your shoes? cat piss and my piss

i can’t help it, really. the cat did start the pissing, i will give him credit for that. but i have continued upon his brilliant idea. he started with the shoes of my roommate, which was just clever as hell. he hates my roommate and got back at her the only way he knew how. that cat is a genius when you think about it. upon hearing of this ingenious plan, i just had to laugh inside as my roommate told me of the stank.

three days later the roommate annoys the fuck out of me by not doing her dishes and i’m seeking some revenge for the lack of courteously in keeping the kitchen clean. not only this but she goes and uses the last of my coffee cream! fucked am i as i make my coffee and go to find an empty half and half in the waste. what better way to get back at her than pissing in her shoes just like the cat did? she’d never figure me for it and i’d get sweet satisfaction in being able to annoy the fuck out of her. after all, she’d deserve it.

holy burning crap on wheels did she get annoyed the first and second time i pissed on her precious shoes. and the third. until she had the smarts enough to close her door before heading to work.

now i’m annoyed when i go to relieve myself in her closet on the fourth attempt and stop myself just before releasing a steady yellow stream – did i have to open her door to get in here today? fuck! cats can’t open closed doors!

well, i couldn’t have any of that. here i was with a powerful stream of urine just begging to be released but with no place to launch it, and like hell it was going to be wasted on the toilet.

fortunately she left her dry cleaning downstairs on the couch. it took some interesting maneuvering to do it right, but i finally managed to create the perfect spot to piss in: some on the dry cleaning bag in a puddle, some just barely seeping onto the evening dress.

but now i find myself having to piss on my other roommates shit once in a while just to even things out, to make sure she doesn’t start to wonder why its just her stuff. i even piss in my room and come down the stairs really annoyed just to cover all my bases. its getting out of control, all this pissing. i now have to think every time i need to piss – is it time to piss on her door or should i piss on the kitchen rug just to play it safe?

so alas this needs to stop. its now just plain embarrassing every time i drop my shorts and piss on her pillow or chair. plus i feel for the cat, i mean he’s been taking some serious heat lately from all this pissing. the poor thing is confused as hell over what all the hatred towards him is about.

roommate..........if you read this then i’m sorry. but you should blame the cat because he’s the one who started it and got me thinking that i should do it.

cat..........if you read this then i’m really sorry. all those bad words and slaps were not meant for you and you didn’t deserve them. piss on my shit if you want, but not too much. i’ll buy you some cat nip or something. i’ll make it up. i promise.

i went to lunch today

not the normal type of lunch i do everyday. the normal lunch i have is by myself and costs $5, $6 at most. the normal lunch is from one of the three cheap lunch eats here in harvard square. no cheaps eats for me today.

today i was taken to lunch. i was taken to lunch by a faculty member i work with and a student. i wasn’t paying so i ordered the calamari for an appetizer and the mahi mahi for my entre. we’re already at $32 so far, just for me. i saved the faculty member about $20 in drinks because i don’t drink alcohol, ever. instead i ordered iced tea at $2 a pop. i also don’t eat dessert that much so i saved her another $9, but i did get a $2.50 cup of coffee. now we’re at almost $40 without tip. lunch was good. conversation was not so good.

so say you’re taken to lunch by a faculty member whom you work with but share little else. say you also go with a 5th year doctoral student of hers. say you go to a really expensive place where there are other really important people having lunch on the university check. say you know nothing or care nothing about the conversation they’re trying to start about bla bla bla. how fun could this be? you feel out of place and fight like crazy to not show boredom.

i tried, i did. but it was hard. you listen to them talk about their research. then you watch them listen to you. then you listen to them watch you.

you talk about how you might try to get down to foxwoods this weekend for a little poker action. you talk about how you’re tired of not getting any playable hands and that maybe this weekend that will change. not the same.

you want to talk about how itunes needs a little script window that tells you the words of the song as it plays. you want to ask them what they’re favorite best-of craigslist entry is from this week. you want to ask them if they think there is a better word out there than the word “fuck.” but you really want to ask them if they’ve ever thought seriously about shaving their ass. this is just not the same as what they want to talk about.

but tomorrow i’ll be having my normal $5 lunch by myself that i can enjoy in peace and quiet. i’m not telling you where, i’m looking forward to no conversation.

personal ad

i tried to create a personal ad for a friend. she didn’t dig it and won’t use it. i told her if she didn’t end up using it then i’d at least post it on my site:

smart, attractive, and sarcastic 29 year old babe looking for an interesting and charming older man to show me a good time.

i may be interested in a long term relationship but i’m also looking for a fuck buddy, so read on if either of these apply to you.

i’m definitely shorter and in better shape than you. i work out like a lot. my buttocks are incredibly firm and can clench like you wouldn’t believe.

i may be smart but i put up with the retards if you are one. you don’t have to be wicked smaht. i’ve been known to date the occasional retarded guy that appears smart at first but then just turns out to be a loser.

if you play the bagpipes that would be a major plus. if you like having sex with a kilt on that would be better. i dig a man who likes to blow pipes.

if you have a job in a trade that would be cool. plumbers, carpenters email me now. sex with a tool belt could not be cooler. you can lay your pipe down on me anytime. i want you to use those big brawny hands to hammer me night and day.

please don’t live in a trailer park because i watch and get a hoot out of “trailer park boys” on tv a lot and the irony would be too much.

please don’t tell me you’re looking for a girl that your mother would want you to marry. that is a corny and pathetic line and you shouldn’t be telling that to someone you just met. plus i’m a crazy sex addict and the whole world knows this. your mother doesn’t want to know this.

please tell me what your sexual fantasies are immediately so i can work on getting the necessary costumes and lube.

please don’t try to convince me that burger king is close to a five star restaurant.

please don’t tell me the only job you’ve ever had was when you tried to open a lemonade stand, especially if that was in the past 2 months.

i only date guys that are at least 10 years older than me. if you’re 53 and thinking you don’t have a chance with me then think again. i love you.

nothing turns me on more than hearing how you’re hung like a horse and are some freak of nature that is willing to send me pics of it like every 5 minutes. if you’re packing some serious meat and feel the need to brag and show off then send them my way baby. i love it when you guys play the size card on me.

please tell me you’re really unbelievably good at “licking the pussy.” you may have been told this or received complements from previous women. they were lying but i don't care. i want you licking my pussy like right now.

if you got excited and searched for you dick pics and practically had an orgasm over hearing those last two comments then go away. i was kidding and you are sick.

you must not:
be gay
own a brooks brothers suit
have ever used the word “hottie” or “lass”
be looking for a soulmate
tell me that busch beer is the best stuff on earth
be a husband or father
email me back with abbreviations like “i’m a SWM seeking BJ’s & maybe LTR w/SXY BBW”
be worldly, i can’t stand you guys
be down with the snoop dog but live with your parents


you should have at least one of the following, i don’t care which:
be able to pamper and take care of a hypochondriac
listen to mighty mouse, or have heard of them
be a sugar daddy
be able to make love for hours or even days on end, i’m a energizer bunny when it comes to sex
have mad lovin skills

if you’re between the ages of 40-60 then please don’t disregard this, i want you now. if you’re loaded and are willing to pay my rent that would be cool because i’m about to be homeless.

please reply with some pics. and details. soon.

noted

every month Wal-Mart buys more than $1 BILLION in real estate for new stores.

how many married women have had sex with people who are not their husbands? apparently somewhere between 30-40 percent. - who knew?

what is the percentage of married men who have sex with someone outside of their marriage? 50 percent. - men don't lie about this

most commonly used word in the english language? biscuit

odds of living in perth, australia and going to the beach and not knowing what ocean you are swimming in? pathetically high

vegas odds as of july 6th of the red sox winning the world series this year? an unbelievable 2/1

more realistic odds? never/never

vegas odds as of july 6th for j lo to marry howard dean in the next 5 years? just 7500/1

odds of someone going to see Fahrenheit 9/11 then voting for bush in '04? i'd love to know

the american average credit card debt (of those who have credit cards and carry a balance)? $3,754

my letter to starbucks today:

dear starbucks,

i drink your coffee. i like your coffee. i give you like $400 a month for coffee, which is a lot for someone like me who barely earns $300 a month.

some people drink your coffee and say it tastes like it’s burnt. these people swear by fuckin’ donuts. i used to only drink fuckin’ donuts coffee, don’t get me wrong. my roommate calls fuckin’ donuts coffee “coffee with training wheels” – once you know coffee you never go back. then i just had to try your coffee one day and got hooked. that or it was one of the extremely pretty barista’s you had working behind the counter, and i couldn’t help but go back and see her.

and speaking of employees. since i’m now a regular i can ask you about this with quite a bit of background: i’ve been to the same store 563 times in the past 8 months and i swear the same people that were there the first day i visited are still working there today. how is this possible? no way you pay these people more than like $8 an hour. all the employees are around my age, like 25-35 years old or so. no way is this their career. what the frig do you do to keep these people from getting actual jobs? and how the christ are they still happy as ever with each new day? don’t retail and restaurant industry jobs have high turnover rates? and why are you always overstaffed? i walk in at 8:30am, 9am, 11am, 5pm, it doesn’t matter, you’ve got like 12 employees. your employees outnumber the customers by like 6/1. if i walk into one of your stores and find one of your employees happier than the day before one more time i swear to christ i’m gonna start to investigate. don’t get me wrong here, its nice to get immediate service from friendly staff, i’m just starting to wonder how you keep these people so happy and how you can afford to keep so many on staff each day. i want to ask someone, i really do, but i’m afraid i’ll insult them if i ask “so you’re like 28 and you’ve been running a register for at least the past 8 months or so, are you planning on doing this forever or is this a temporary thing?” are they all waiting to move up to store manager? are they all store managers?

um, so anyway, are you looking for someone else to work at that starbucks on broadway in cambridge? i might be interested.

your caffeine loving and loyal customer,

raz

that smile

i really shouldn’t be posting this. for real. this post may go beyond where i like to be in terms of revealing actual info about me. it may dive a bit too deep into the mind of the raz. the raz may be partly exposed and this may or may not be a good idea. but the story was written and i just have to post it.

so. i wrote this a while ago. a while ago as in over the winter. today i was at the library and just had to get some juice from starbucks when i was done, which reminded me of this little story i had written, which is why i have posted it. i had to laugh at what happened today and wanted to write about it but it’s way too revealing. so instead i decided to at least post the original. just pretend it’s another lie:

i don’t even drink coffee.

when you live and work in harvard square you have quite a few different possibilities in terms of getting coffee. you better like starbucks though.

i’m walking to work for the past year and a half. at ¾ a mile i pass a starbucks, though it takes me a year or so to notice this. like i said, i don’t drink coffee.

actually i lie, i do drink something like coffee. EXpresso is my drug of choice, and make that iced. in fact, why don’t you go ahead and water that down while you’re at it.

long story short i had to quit the coffee about 3 years ago. i’ve now convinced myself that iced espresso is not the same as coffee and that i can drink as much of it as i want. the problem is that i take that last sentence a little too seriously. the other problem is that winter in cambridge is cold as frig. so i’ve recently devised a system of making the iced juice (as i like to call it) at home. perfect, i can now only get my fix when i’m at home, which cuts down on my juice spending considerably.

for the pure sake of convenience i decided to stop by this mystery starbucks on my way home from work one night to pick up some juice beans for the weekend.

me entering the store and wondering where the hell i am.

me finding the whole beans on a shelf near the back wall.

me standing in front of this wall of beans trying to figure out which bag i need.

me being approached by someone asking if i need any help.

me turning around to find a very attractive (if you need a visual think about a shorter version of audrey from twin peaks) barista who is continuing the approaching.

me doing my own approaching, though in the form of reaching complete nervousness.

me not being able to form a complete sentence.

me: “came to find express beans help find will you?”

her: (probably saying something like:) “um, can you please repeat that in the form of a sentence?”

me: (trying to re-word the sentence, came up with the following) “came to find express beans help find will you?”

her: “right, it can be a little confusing at first, i think i can find something out back”

me swearing that she was smiling at me and almost pleased that she had some sort of effect on me.

me confirming the smile as she asked if i wanted a free cup of coffee with the purchase.

me saying yes and forgetting that i had an addiction to coffee, and that i no longer drank it.

me again noticing the smile as we finished the transaction.

me smiling profusely as i exit the store.

one of the many problems with this encounter that i had to think about on my way home was how i was going to find a reason to enter the store again and see her. starting a new coffee buying habit was not in my budget. when making the juice at home i only needed juice beans about once every other week or so, which would clearly not be good in terms of being able to see her again.

problem solved: the next morning i decided to bite the bullet and get coffee with the hopes that she was working again. luck was on my side for the first time ever as somehow she worked the late shift the night before, and the early shift today. i was able to witness the same smile and became convinced that she somehow was attracted to me.

so am i crazy for thinking she might actually be attracted to me?

well, yes. but still……..

i’ve since been visiting the same store at least twice a day for the past two weeks, ordering coffee and fueling my addiction to both the juice and her. i can’t decide if i’m going into the store each day to get coffee or see her, and i’m afraid to admit it may be the latter.

the shyest person ever would be me.

i’m hoping, i’m praying, i’m begging, i’m dreaming of the day when i order my coffee and she spills it all over the counter. when i order my coffee and she drops it on the floor. when i order my coffee and she spills it all over me. anything, anything like this would be fine by me. anything to spark some sort of conversation other than our usual “thank you, have a nice day.”

perhaps she’ll soon realize that i am in fact the shyest person in the world and i’m not about to be sparking any conversations on my own. perhaps the sparking will be done by her one of these days.

me trying to convince myself that perhaps i should just be happy with the smile, that anything more would spoil the dream.

lets think realistically here though. in fact it was my imagination that she could even have the least bit of interest in me. in fact it was my imagination that i thought anything could even begin to happen between us. in fact it was my imagination that anything like this could ever happen to me. in fact it was my imagination that i could even bring myself to the point of wanting to start a relationship, ever.

so there you have it. since i somehow like disappointing situations i guess all is not lost. this one could feed my hunger for depression for many months to come.

something to dream about or something to forget about.

my lucky encounter at lunch today

when i bring my lunch i like to go eat in the park when the sun is shinning. today the sun was shinning.

if you have to know, i was eating an avacado and smoked gouda bagel sandwich with a bit of lettuce. i may or may not have also had some carrots and a newman’s own juice box (stolen from my roommate).

so i’m finished with lunch and now i’m reading the book i brought and can’t seem to ever finish but really enjoy, the illiad. i’m at book 16, so i’m getting near the end. i’m completely engrossed in this book, but that doesn’t stop this girl from walking up to me and sitting down on the bench, with every intention of starting a conversation. i think i might recognize her from laying on the grass about 50 yards away while i was eating. she was working on her tan, but now she has her shirt and shorts back on.

she’s really smiling and asks me what i’m reading. i tell her and then there is this awkward silence. then she asks if i mind that she interrupted my reading. i tell her that i just have to finish the chapter i’m on because i’m at a really good part. i mean come on, this is the part where hector is taunting patroclus – “you deemed that you should sack our city, rob our trojan women of their freedom, and carry them off in your ships to your own country. fool!” – pfft, like hell i was going to just wait to read this part later. patroclus could die at any second here! i didn’t want to miss this part, no matter how good her tan was.

yeah, so she wasn’t expecting me to say yes to her interruption question and she gives a confused look as she gets up and walks back to her space on the grass.

to tell you the truth i didn’t even notice she left until she appeared again saying: “i figured i can wait till you’re finished”

i finish a few minutes later and ask her what’s up, she says: “well, i’ve seen you here before, eating lunch, and just had to ask you something. i’m getting tired of coming here to eat my lunch and get a tan every day. so i was just wondering if the same is true with you, and if you’d rather we just have sex instead of lunch.”

i tell her that she knows how to get right to the point and she kind of laughs.

i tell her that she does have a nice tan going, which she tells me she appreciates me saying.

i tell her that i dig her approach style.

then i have to tell her that we can’t start tomorrow because i already have plans.

but now i think you know how i’ll be spending my lunch every day next week.

let the sex for lunch begin.

buy or sell?

interest rates rose a quarter point yesterday afternoon. is this good or bad news?

looking at interest rates can be interesting. some may be on the side where seeing rates go down is a good thing, others see the rates go up and start to get excited (me!). can you say pathetic? does anyone else out there care about interest rates? am i crazy?

no but here is the simple version of why i’m excited:

our country has been in a major economic slump for like the past 4 years (see date that W took office). actually, i can’t blame everything on the W, but most of it anyway. so we’re starting the sliding action in