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.

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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 2000 or so, and things really start to heat up around august, then we start the real sliding in november, december 2000, january, february, march and so on of 2001 and the slide actually never stopped.

until yesterday.

W and alan greenspan had been slashing the rate like every chance they got just to keep up with our failing economy, to make sure we’d rebound at some point. this slashing got the rate down to 1%, as in, there is really no lower than 1%, as in, we’re fucked. to compare – when reagen was in office the rate reached about 13%, for bubba it was more like a steady 6-8%. we’re currently at like a 50 year low on interest rates, as in, if you didn’t buy a house or a yatch or a car or a plane recently then you need to get your ass out there soon man. money this cheap doesn’t come around that often. W knows the economy is picking up (or would like to bluff us into thinking so, who knows) and has his greedy little eyes focused on how this will play into his re-election bid.

so now the rates will go up, and i assume they will not stop or go back down for a bit, i mean we need to get that rate back up there man!

what this means for you: you’re going to be paying up the ass pretty soon for those home morgages, at least compared to recently. but, maybe you have a few cd’s or money market accounts – you might get a little more action on your investment, which is a good thing.

what this means for the country: generally people spend less when rates go up because there is less money in the peoples hands (nobody goes rushing to the bank for a loan when rates are high). this means we’re pumping less money into our economy but avoiding the inflation. i think we came close to seeing things really heat up in terms of too much money on the market spurring insane demand and prices while tightening supplies. if this happened we’d be in a serious trouble.

a very general feeling from seeing the rate increase is that the economy must be getting better, or analysts feel that we’re getting close to a rebound era.

do your stocks go up or down with this news? yesterday after the news they continued to climb, today they’re taking a dive. one thing for sure is that there is no telling what the market will do, ever.

go buy something big if you’re pessimistic.

go stash that money in the market if you’re optimistic.

high altitude vacation

on thursday, june 24th, i left for the airport on a trip to vail, colorado to visit my high school friend, oz. word was that we might do some camping and/or rafting. i had the chance to do both during my 4 day stay. the flight out was uneventful for the most part, though there was one memorable experience that i think i’ll have to keep to myself.

the oz lives 100 miles from the denver airport, or about 2.5 hours via car with me driving. the oz has got a sweet pad out there and lives with one other guy (L-dog, he ownes the place) and has more than a few spare bedrooms. the house sits about 9000 feel above sea level on the side of some west vail mountain. finally going to bed at 5am est never felt so good.

the randomness and awkwardness in the writing of this entry was done completely on purpose. no, really.

friday, day 1:
-dropped anchor at 5am after a crazy 100 mile drive from denver.
-woke up 4 hours later to cruise downtown vail, caffinated self and got a call from a friend of the oz, jfk.
-met jfk with her 3 dogs and she took me to meet trista and ryan from that bachelor show or whatever. sadly i could never remember the name of the show they were on when we were talking to them, so i could never talk about how i watched it. confirmed – ryan is cooler than trista, even though trista is hot stuff.
-let the dogs loose behind their pad and followed them up this crazy steep mountain. un-fucking-real views of vail, avon and beaver creek from the top.
-we couldn’t help ourselves from having crazy mountain sex with views like that.
-crazy mountain sex ended when it started hailing like a mother. hail the size of my fist and snow, weird stuff.
-we raced down the mountain and downed a few beers at a local joint in avon.
-jfk, thanks for showing a complete stranger a good time, seriously.
-picked up the oz from work moments later and headed to do a little sight seeing around beaver creek. ran into an energetic and very hot librarian friend of the oz and had a drink while discussing the latest nicholas sparks movie and all his books. nothing like finding someone else who likes and understands nicholas sparks. don’t laugh. hot librarian, you’re my kind of lady.
-met the sultry suburbian (L-dogs girl) back at the pad and had a few drinks before heading back into town for a little mexican food and way too much margarita, after all, i don’t even drink.
-packed up the car with rafting and camping shit when we got home and settled in for a 4 hour nap.

Saturday, day 2:
-alarm went off at 5am and we headed to the car where we saw bama pulling into the driveway. bama has an accent from the south that she’s either trying to lose or learn, i couldn’t tell and didn’t dare ask her till i knew her a little better. i did ask her later, i just had to: turns out she knows it can be sexy at times and poured it on thick at just the right moments.
-tore down i-70 west for 3 hours till we reached utah and the infamous westwater at 9am.
-threw everything in the raft and i drove the shuttle car down the river to where we would be ending the trip, got back to the start point and “dropped in” at 11am.
-cracked the first beer 5 minutes later, the second came 20 minutes after that and they never really stopped.
-proceeded to relax and bake in the desert sun for the next couple hours, floating at about 4 miles an hour.
-lots of beer and weed got passed around the six rafts that made up our group before we pulled ashore for some lunch.
-ate lunch riverside while looking up at 700 foot walls of red canyon surrounding us and and river.
-not one sound other than the movement of water.
-started floating about an hour later and continued with the consumption of beer, the rapids weren’t till tomorrow.
-watched thunder and lightning pass a few miles away while the sun beat down on us, very strange.
-pulled ashore to set up camp at about 5pm and the oz, bama and i took off for a hike.
-ok, hiking in the desert is an experience, let me tell you. i’m scarred shitless of snakes and scorpions, but we don’t see any. in fact i don’t think we saw a single animal during the entire hike. unbelievable plants and rocks that grabbed my attention every few feet. the girls didn’t find them as interesting as i did and continued on without me. i finally met up with them near the top of the canyon where they shouted down to me that we should “follow the drainage” back to the campsite instead of the trail. they suggested i met them “over yonder” and we’ll hike down together. right. freaked out i definitely am. its 8pm and getting dark. we’ve climbed for about an hour, so i have to figure we’ll just make it if we start back now on the trail. no doubt daylight will be gone soon. shitting my pants is me as they point me towards where we’ll met up with each other. no way i can act all chicken shit in front of these girls, so i yell back that it sounds like an excellent idea, the best i’ve ever heard. perhaps you’ve seen the movie “gerry.” well, it is this movie that is playing in my mind over and over as we venture further and further off the path. i’m in the desert in utah, a place i am completely unfamiliar with and the whole canyon looks the same to me. ½ hour later we’re deep into a dry river drainage when we get to the waterfall of this dry bed. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. no way to turn around and panic is me at this moment though i won’t tell or show the girls my fear. i get to the waterfall and i seriously consider jumping the 50 feet onto the sand bed below. instead i decide to climb down the rock face and hit the ground running, not even looking back at the girls, i just need to see what’s around the corner. more corners loom ahead as i bounce from rock to rock with 100 foot walls of rock on either side of me. there is no turning back now and i pray that this empties onto the river soon, i don’t care where. the sun is down now and its getting dark fast as my heart is beating like a million miles a minute. i’m really frightened now as i run back to the girls to check on their progress. they’re moving like molasses through the dry river bed. no way i am sleeping on rocks in the cold desert night. we’ve now reached the bottom of the bed and as far as i can tell we’re miles away from camp, nothing looks familiar. i am now cassey affleck or matt damon in gerry, totally not recognizing any surroundings. but wait, a path! i almost threw the girls to the ground as i beat feet down the path about 300 yards to a campfire with salmon roasting on the open pit. holy fuck, disaster averted.
-the other 16 friends at camp looked up and said “i thought we were missing somebody”
-a dinner of salmon, rice, salad, bread, carrots and keylime pie awaited us, i’ve never tasted better food.
-the weed and beer flowed as the night wore on and i listened to some good conversation.
-not being one to socialize that well i took comfort in sitting in the dark next to the fire listening to all the talking.
-this was a group of 19 truly interesting people. most from vail, or at least colorado, and most of them knew everyone fairly well. fairly well expect me that is. a life of good times like this is what these people are used to. the constant adventure or thrill is what these people live for each day. never have i met such a peaceful/mellow/relaxed/easy going/adventurous/good-humored/fun group of people.
-i wish i could tell you that we forgot to bring enough sleeping bags and that the two ladies and i had to all share a bag. i wish i could tell you that one of the tents fell off the raft and we all had to pile into a two person tent. but alas, luck was not on my side and we settled into our own bags and tents for the night.

Sunday, day 3:
-awake at 7am to some incredible coffee.
-melon and yogert and cereal followed the coffee and i decided not to try out the “loover” or whatever they were calling the shitter, i could never figure out what they were saying, and never wanted to go find out. i could hold it till sunday night, or so i was hoping.
-it didn’t take as long as i thought to “rig” the rafts after breakfast, and we were back on the water and under the hot sun in just a few hours.
-it should be noted here that yes i was a little scared about the rapids. with names like skull, bowling alley, staircase wall of doom, no return and last chance it was hard not to be at least a little scared about the upcoming rapids. yes i knew i was going to get soaked. yes i knew i could fall out. yes i knew we could easily capsize. this all had me a little worried, but definitely very excited.
-i held on for dear life during each rapid and got drenched every time. screaming with excitement for an hour straight as we tore through walls of water.
-i have no idea how the L-dog kept us afloat the whole time. somehow he knew how to approach each section and guide us through almost effortlessly. the L-dog has hundreds of rafting trips under his belt and as “trip leader” i guess i was in pretty good hands.
-many more hours of calm foating went by as we started the drinking and sun bathing once again. i don’t think i could have been in a better place in all of the world at that time. complete silence and peacefulness as we exited the canyon and returned to the flat desert.
-at 5pm the exiting of the river and the “de-rigging” began and lasted a good hour until we had everything loaded onto everyone’s truck. well, almost everything.
-somehow my bag of shit got lost, stolen, or thrown away (packed in a dry bag, then in a garbage bag to prevent wetness) in the madness to unload everything. there were like 5 other groups unloading and coming off the river at the dock the same time as us, and somehow with all the madness my bag goes missing. no big deal though, because it only had like everything i brought with me on the trip, minus a pair of underwear and shirt back at the oz pad. i mean, who really needs their glasses anyway? did i really care about my grey fleece that i wear like every single day? did i really want to keep that really nice yellow marmot rain jacket? the stuff i’ll really miss will be those 3 t-shirts, for real though. you know those credit card t-shirts i wear like all the time? that 4 year old worn out and faded free credit card shirt that i got in college, that cambridgeside galleria shirt, that “students get it” .edu shirt? the ones i wore like every single weekend always? fuck man, i’ll feel so depressed now when i go to put on my newer t-shirts on the weekends. and how about those jeans that took me 10 years to break-in? holy shit, you know when you get them to just the right shape, like the kind of shape where you won’t even think about wearing any other jeans you own. man, that was the kind of perfect shape they were in.
-yeah, so that was a major set-back and unfortunately kind of ruined my good mood for the day.
-hmm, but right after this the oz pulls up in her car and says that she can’t steer it for shit. as in the steering wheel moves like one inch on either side. great, we’re only like 300 miles from vail in the middle of nowhere on a sunday night. further investigation shows signs of a mouse or squirrel that chewed through one of her belts. we decide to have someone follow us 120 miles down the highway where we know there is a mechanic that can fix it in the morning, and catch a ride back with the girls driving behind us. wow was that scary at times. the oz was floating all over the highway as she tried to keep it on the road and off of as may guardrails as possible. at times i had my doubts that we would be making the corners and thought that maybe going below 75 miles an hour would give us a better chance at not flying off the road. but the oz has a heavy foot, and that car doesn’t know any speed lower than 90 on the highway.
-we finally made it back to vail at like 11:30 after some shuffling of cars. tired, and very dirty, we took showers and hit the sack immediately.

Monday, day 4:
-slept in until 10am and then helped the L-dog unload everything, hoping i would find my bag somewhere among all the gear. no luck.
-made a quick sandwich and went off for a hike. realized very shortly that i needed to get myself to a store and find some saline because my contacts were glued to my eyes from wearing them like 50 hours straight. walked to a store, fed my eyes and decided to hop a shuttle bus into lionhead for a look around.
-made it back home at like 3pm and started writing for a bit before i got a call from the oz telling me to walk down to the bus stop and to meet her there.
-took the bus into vail where i was to catch a cab/shuttle bus back to denver.
-said our goodbyes while watching some seriously hot high school or college gals get their picture taken just below where we were standing at the bus stop. apparently they were miss colorado hopefuls, and man did i wish i had my own camera so i could snap a few pics of them. at the very least i with i had a rubber on me, because when i asked one of them if they wanted to have a quickie in the women’s room she said only if i had a rubber. fuck if my shuttle wasn’t leaving in the next 10 minutes and i didn’t have time to go buy one. so they just continued to stand there all pretty with their gowns on and ribbons, just smiling away, looking hot as ever.
-the idaho was my driver back to denver, and man was she a talker. i was her only passenger so she had me sit up front with her so that she had someone to talk to. talk she did, in fact she never stopped during the 2 hour drive to denver. i think i got like 3 different words in the entire time – really?, wow, and uh huh. she was cool though, and pointed out some mountain goats, buffalo and elk along the way, which i never would have seen myself. we also watched a tractor trailer come barreling down the vail pass in the west bound lane, smoke pouring off of the wheels and fire spitting out the sides. the idaho told me the truck no doubt lost the hydrolic brakes or something and the driver was standing on the pedal which makes the brakes heat up and start smoking/catching on fire. fortunately he was close to a runaway truck ramp, but still, it was a scary sight, and even scarier if you were in the west bound lane and saw it approaching you – and of course incredibly scary for the driver.
-got to the airport at 8:30 and had a few hours to spare
-planned on writing once i checked in, but woudn’t you know it: worse luck is me as i enter the check-in and some girl finds a way to start a conversation with me. i find this astonishing because when i try to avoid conversation there is no breaking me. hell, i am downright pissed and confused as she continues to try to make conversation with me! i don’t care that you’re going on vacation for two months in maine. i don’t care that you just graduated college. i don’t care that you’re recently engaged. and i certainly don’t care what your frigging wedding dress is going to look like so stop showing me pictures! i just want to sit and wait for my plane while writing shit down for my blog. please go away! can’t you see i’m impossible to have a conversation with?! 2 hours of nodding my head and forcing smiles until we grab our boarding passes to get on the plane. finally some peace. but no. she asks where i’m seated and i swear to you she has the seat across the isle from me. 8 million seats on the plane. well, maybe just 150 or so, still, what are the fucking odds on this? honestly. fortunately the poor soul next to her across the isle got suckered into a conversation and i quickly put on a headset and pretended i was watching tv (jetblue you rock with these personal tv’s). i have to say though, there was one seat open on the entire plane, and it happened to be the one right next to me on my right – how cool is that?
-somehow i don’t have the ability to fall asleep during the flight, but it was only 3.5 hours so it wouldn’t have been much help anyway.
-landed at 5:30 est and bussed/train/walked it back to kansas by 7am, but not before picking up some iced coffee to cure the headache.

most amazed by:
how huge colorado is
how clean and refreshing it is out there
how hard it is to breath when you’re 14,000 feet above sea level
the beauty of being right inside a canyon in utah
snow and hail in the middle of the summer
seeing buffalo, mountain goats and elk

least excited about:
how gear oriented everyone seems to be out there
how you’re land-locked in the middle of the country, no ocean in sight
how all the houses in vail look the same to me

thankful for:
having a friend like the oz to invite me out there
having the oz know someone like the L-dog so we could go on the rafting trip
getting out of new england for the first time in like ever

best quotes:
“is this thing fucking childproof?” – had to be there, sorry
“fucking nole man, what an amateur, he’s going down the rapids and he’s got his paddles clear out of the water”
“i’m sorry about that, i can bring you a new entree and your meal is on me or you can stay with the one you’ve got and i’ll only charge you half price” – what? yeah, that deal didn’t sound right to the person sitting in front of us either.
“man, honey, you don’t dig my sarong?”
“better start digging that sarong, i’ve seen the L-dog raft naked before and i don’t feel like seeing it again”

so there you have it, my trip (most of it), in a nutshell, or rather a very large coconut.