Have you ever gone to the gym, had a workout, hit the showers, and then realized that you forgot your towel in the car? You then are faced with that difficult decision of either putting on clothes wet or using the hand dryer by the sinks in a way that they were not designed for (maybe even getting two of them going at once and contorting your body to be as air efficient as possible?(think skin-sail)) You feel all right about yourself until you sense the judging glances of the people that remembered their towels and are trying to get their shave on.
Yeah, me either.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
My New Boss
I must be very clear about this. The following lines after this statement are not misguided fabrications, they are solid fact.
This is my new boss at Expedia: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=og0LWQVIpug. He is riding shotgun and wearing sunglasses. Or with a doo rag: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMGUFbsU9oY.
Butch Mosby is apparently one of the founding members of a European rap group called Black Attack.
My new job is incredible.
This is my new boss at Expedia: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=og0LWQVIpug. He is riding shotgun and wearing sunglasses. Or with a doo rag: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMGUFbsU9oY.
Butch Mosby is apparently one of the founding members of a European rap group called Black Attack.
My new job is incredible.
Friday, April 4, 2008
I had a dream
Last night....
It was me and Justin Timberlake playing the part of acting rivals (not too far fetched yet right?)
We were on a bus that was full of a boy's choir that was dressed in white shirts and blue jeans. The choir was travelling around Europe and Justin and I would run into them occasionally during our filming adventures. Who was in charge of the choir you ask? Faizon Love (he's on the left.) I think I'm remembering him as the boss at Gimbel's on Elf. Any way, I think there was an element of Amazing Race thrown in there as well because I remember Justin and I racing against each other and at times needing to stowaway on the bus. Faizon would give us a hard time. He was holding a clipboard.
What does it all mean?
It was me and Justin Timberlake playing the part of acting rivals (not too far fetched yet right?)
We were on a bus that was full of a boy's choir that was dressed in white shirts and blue jeans. The choir was travelling around Europe and Justin and I would run into them occasionally during our filming adventures. Who was in charge of the choir you ask? Faizon Love (he's on the left.) I think I'm remembering him as the boss at Gimbel's on Elf. Any way, I think there was an element of Amazing Race thrown in there as well because I remember Justin and I racing against each other and at times needing to stowaway on the bus. Faizon would give us a hard time. He was holding a clipboard.
What does it all mean?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Mystery Solved
Hello friends! I have made a very important discovery and thought I would share.
I recently returned from a trip to Australia. This blog is not about that trip though. This blog is about the misery that plagued me when I returned to the best time zone in the world, the PST!
I have returned from internation travel before, but for some reason I could not get back into the swing of things and my ability to throw down Zs West Coast style was severly inhibited. I found myself being wide awake until 5 AM and waking up around 2 in the afternoon. Nothing was working; food comas, unisom, other sleep inducing methods, nada. I was convinced that I was going to have to request to work nights at my new job, but then I stumbled upon the cure for what ailed me one night. I was up late at night reading up on the evils of sunlight when I decided to have a beer. 1 beer turned into 4 and in about an hour and a half I felt a sensation sweep over my body that made my soul jumpy for joy. I was drowsy! I repeated this ritual for the next several nights and before I knew it I was falling asleep and passing "in" to dreamland by 9 PM.
More people should know about this. Spread the word. Alcohol is a magical elixir that not only makes you extremely intelligent and charming in social situations, but it ALSO rocks you gently to sleep when the Sandman decides to sit on his ass for week.
I am up to 5 beers a night, but I can honestly say that booze saved my life.
I recently returned from a trip to Australia. This blog is not about that trip though. This blog is about the misery that plagued me when I returned to the best time zone in the world, the PST!
I have returned from internation travel before, but for some reason I could not get back into the swing of things and my ability to throw down Zs West Coast style was severly inhibited. I found myself being wide awake until 5 AM and waking up around 2 in the afternoon. Nothing was working; food comas, unisom, other sleep inducing methods, nada. I was convinced that I was going to have to request to work nights at my new job, but then I stumbled upon the cure for what ailed me one night. I was up late at night reading up on the evils of sunlight when I decided to have a beer. 1 beer turned into 4 and in about an hour and a half I felt a sensation sweep over my body that made my soul jumpy for joy. I was drowsy! I repeated this ritual for the next several nights and before I knew it I was falling asleep and passing "in" to dreamland by 9 PM.
More people should know about this. Spread the word. Alcohol is a magical elixir that not only makes you extremely intelligent and charming in social situations, but it ALSO rocks you gently to sleep when the Sandman decides to sit on his ass for week.
I am up to 5 beers a night, but I can honestly say that booze saved my life.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Let's Talk About.... MOMM (Male on Male Massage)
Hello world. This story begins with a bang! Literally, a car banged into me on the 520 E on the first of February. It was this event that brought me to look for a doctor close to work. My friend, Joel, made a recommendation and I found myself calling Dr Sadri. Joel said that she was "very thorough." When I walked into the office, I must admit that I was very caught off guard. Walking into the waiting room, I could have sworn that I had accidentally crossed some sort of teleport and entered a waiting room in Eastern Europe. Everybody was speaking a different language from Iranian to Russian and I was pretty confident that I was the only "Joe" they had seen since G.I. Joe was taken off the air. After my examination Dr. Sadri asked if I would prefer physical therapy or massage therapy. Seemed like a no-brainer to me, "Massage therapy please." "Great," she replied "I will sign you up with Igor. He is the best, some people pay $150 an hour to be with him. You are very lucky." Lucky. Funny how people have different definitions to the same word.
First day of massage therapy. Enter Igor. I could tell we were going to get along great straight from his icy, “You wait there. 5 minute.” I made my way to the lobby and somehow managed to develop the hiccups in the 8 minutes he made me wait. No worries, I was convinced this would be a funny story that Igor would talk about during his best man speech at my wedding, “Joe good guy, you know. He come to see me, you know. Could not say what wrong with him without jumping like little Slovakian frog, you know.”
He walks me back to his room, asks me to tell him what brings me to see him and asks me to give him the details of my accident. After I told him about my rear end, he instructed me to strip down to my boxers and wait for him under a sheet and that he would be back to take care of me in 2 minutes. I got down to my boxers and realized that due to my incredible skill to shed my clothing, I had some time to kill (on a side note I have recently been trying to do 150 pushups a day) and I figured that this would be a good time to bust out a quick set of 25. Around 18 I thought about what kind of first impression I would make with Igor if he came in and saw me doing pushups in my boxers before I nestled into my sheet cocoon. How would I explain that? "Relax Igor, just trying to make sure I'm as toned as I can be for you before you oil me up." Thank goodness that his time quotes had not become more accurate and we did not have to cross that bridge.
He enters the room, as stoic as a domino, and we get to work. I lay on my stomach and he goes to town on my back. The hiccups end up disappearing and as odd as it may seem, we end up striking up quite the conversation. It turns out that Igor was born in Kazakhstan and moved to Belarus when he was pretty young. I asked him what he thought about the Borat movie and he did not seemed very bothered by it. He said that it mostly caused an uproar with the older population of Kazakhstan, but that he understood that it was meant to be a joke (even though he did not find it to be very funny from a comedy standpoint.) Apparently Igor was also a history/geography buff because he started spewing out dates and directions like nobody's business. Our one difference came when he started talking about the Berlin Wall. All throughout school I've learned that the Berlin wall came down in 1989, Igor disagreed and said that it actually came down in 1990. I did some research when I got home and I encourage others to do the same to come to their own conclusion. We quickly found ourselves gabbing away like two squirrels arguing over a nut. When he was done with my back he asked me to roll over and he would work on my chest/neck. I rolled over and was relieved to see that I wasn't doing a Zoolander impression (you never know...) He finished what he needed to do on my front side and we were done with our 55 minute journey. I was very, very sore and could barely get up off the table. I got dressed, shook Igor's hand and made my way home and thought about my newest adventure.
All in all, I was glad that I let Igor manhandle me. He said that his family has had a special healing power passed down through the generations and I was convinced. I'm glad that he dropped his surly demeanor and became the Chatty Cathy that I have grown to love and I look forward to seeing him twice a week for the next three weeks. Thank goodness for insurance.
First day of massage therapy. Enter Igor. I could tell we were going to get along great straight from his icy, “You wait there. 5 minute.” I made my way to the lobby and somehow managed to develop the hiccups in the 8 minutes he made me wait. No worries, I was convinced this would be a funny story that Igor would talk about during his best man speech at my wedding, “Joe good guy, you know. He come to see me, you know. Could not say what wrong with him without jumping like little Slovakian frog, you know.”
He walks me back to his room, asks me to tell him what brings me to see him and asks me to give him the details of my accident. After I told him about my rear end, he instructed me to strip down to my boxers and wait for him under a sheet and that he would be back to take care of me in 2 minutes. I got down to my boxers and realized that due to my incredible skill to shed my clothing, I had some time to kill (on a side note I have recently been trying to do 150 pushups a day) and I figured that this would be a good time to bust out a quick set of 25. Around 18 I thought about what kind of first impression I would make with Igor if he came in and saw me doing pushups in my boxers before I nestled into my sheet cocoon. How would I explain that? "Relax Igor, just trying to make sure I'm as toned as I can be for you before you oil me up." Thank goodness that his time quotes had not become more accurate and we did not have to cross that bridge.
He enters the room, as stoic as a domino, and we get to work. I lay on my stomach and he goes to town on my back. The hiccups end up disappearing and as odd as it may seem, we end up striking up quite the conversation. It turns out that Igor was born in Kazakhstan and moved to Belarus when he was pretty young. I asked him what he thought about the Borat movie and he did not seemed very bothered by it. He said that it mostly caused an uproar with the older population of Kazakhstan, but that he understood that it was meant to be a joke (even though he did not find it to be very funny from a comedy standpoint.) Apparently Igor was also a history/geography buff because he started spewing out dates and directions like nobody's business. Our one difference came when he started talking about the Berlin Wall. All throughout school I've learned that the Berlin wall came down in 1989, Igor disagreed and said that it actually came down in 1990. I did some research when I got home and I encourage others to do the same to come to their own conclusion. We quickly found ourselves gabbing away like two squirrels arguing over a nut. When he was done with my back he asked me to roll over and he would work on my chest/neck. I rolled over and was relieved to see that I wasn't doing a Zoolander impression (you never know...) He finished what he needed to do on my front side and we were done with our 55 minute journey. I was very, very sore and could barely get up off the table. I got dressed, shook Igor's hand and made my way home and thought about my newest adventure.
All in all, I was glad that I let Igor manhandle me. He said that his family has had a special healing power passed down through the generations and I was convinced. I'm glad that he dropped his surly demeanor and became the Chatty Cathy that I have grown to love and I look forward to seeing him twice a week for the next three weeks. Thank goodness for insurance.
Friday, January 18, 2008
I'll Give it a Whirl
I'll start this off with an admission: I am a lemming. Me posting a blog is not cutting edge. I'm definitely not a trend setter and make no claims of being original. But really, are there any thoughts left in the world that haven't been thought or expressed before?
My two inspirations to take on this task are Ryan "Viking Warrior" O'Connor (http://snocon.blogspot.com/ ) and Christopher "Dog Deserter" Lipe (http://livethelipestyle.blogspot.com/) I consider both of these guys to be extremely intelligent and creative and the intrigue that is sparked when I read their musings is infectious. Cue Prodigy's "Firestarter."
Naturally many questions race through one's mind when starting a blog: Who is actually going to read this? How deep into the rabbit hole of my brain should I take people? How many times a day should I check for comments? You know, the usual doubts/delusions of grandeur that come when you expose a part of yourself to the world. I think that the direction that you take with a blog is very critical and is shaped with your first few posts. Should I focus my thoughts and pump out pure comedy, should I treat this like a diary and type up uncensored tales of my daily grind, or tackle serious social issues? Let's try a potpourri approach and see what happens!
I'm not sure that I will even come close to the entertainment value that Tucker Max brings to the www (tuckermax.com) but we can give it a whirl.
My two inspirations to take on this task are Ryan "Viking Warrior" O'Connor (http://snocon.blogspot.com
Naturally many questions race through one's mind when starting a blog: Who is actually going to read this? How deep into the rabbit hole of my brain should I take people? How many times a day should I check for comments? You know, the usual doubts/delusions of grandeur that come when you expose a part of yourself to the world. I think that the direction that you take with a blog is very critical and is shaped with your first few posts. Should I focus my thoughts and pump out pure comedy, should I treat this like a diary and type up uncensored tales of my daily grind, or tackle serious social issues? Let's try a potpourri approach and see what happens!
I'm not sure that I will even come close to the entertainment value that Tucker Max brings to the www (tuckermax.com) but we can give it a whirl.
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