After sitting home for the past 2 weeks, I think I've finally found my true calling and what to do for a career. It took a lot of soul searching, but I think I have to follow my heart on this one. I know people, I know, I know I've had this revelation before, but this is something I need to do. Here it is; I'm going to travel the country with an orangutan that knows obscene finger gestures, and make my living bare knuckle fighting in rusty old car lots. I'm going to wear skin tight t-shirts and call myself Filo. If anyone can find a flaw in this plan, I'd be more than happy to entertain any thoughts on the subject.
Obviously people, I've had a lot of time to think about just about anything and everything during my time off. It's amazing the stuff that goes through your mind just sitting home. Stuff like, maybe I should buy a house, maybe it's time to get married, maybe I should head South and not deal with the amazingly lousy winters of Upstate NY, or maybe I should add another olive to this martini. How many olives are too many, by the way?
The thinking last night was a result of something that my sister sent me in a text message. It was something to the effect of how it kind of sucks that our mom is getting married for the second time and we haven't had a chance yet. To be perfectly honest, I thought that was kind of bullshit... for a couple reasons. Reason one is that I did have a chance to get married. I was actually engaged... obviously that didn't pan out because I'm not writing an alimony check every month. Reason two is that I think that any one of us has a chance every day. The trick is not to settle (no, I don't think that my mom is settling by any stretch of the imagination). People, the fact that I'm not married has absolutely nothing to do with my happiness. So I'm not married and maybe I never will be. Three words... big fucking deal. I don't need that to validate my life or who I am. Would it be nice to have someone to share my life with? Sure it would. However, it's not something that's going to keep me up at night. I have a great group of friends, and I like to think that I, more or less, share my life with them. Granted I'm not sleeping with them, well, most of them, but you get the idea.
Why she (my sister) is so bummed about this is beyond me. Maybe it's different for girls. Maybe somewhere in the evolutionary ladder there was some point where if a female Neanderthal wasn't married (or clubbed over the head and dragged by her hair) by a certain age, all the other Neanderthals pointed and giggled. Quick sidebar here... I'm not sure if that would have actually happened because of the opposable thumb and forefinger that we currently have, and I don't know when that happened in the evolution of the species. Or maybe earlier in the evolutionary process if a chimp didn't breed or take a mate by a certain age, then they weren't able to attend any of the monkey bridal showers or monkey bachelorette parties. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal now, because you're probably thinking the same thing I'm thinking... how much fun could a monkey bachelor/bachelorette party be? What with the ridiculous pricing on monkey flights to Vegas, monkey strippers, monkey wet t-shirt contests, monkey mud wrestling... you know what I mean. Not to mention what a pain in the ass it has to be to find a monkey limo driver. It's just not the same.
I will tell you this, though. It's just not that big a deal for guys. Well, I should say it's not that big a deal for most guys. When you're a guy (such as I am), you can be 40 years old and single and nobody will give it a second thought. We just don't care. Well, I shouldn't say that. It's not that we don't care, it's simply that it's not a priority. People ask me this all the time when I tell them my age; don't you want to get married? My standard answer is, "I don't know." Really, think about it... there's so much to consider in that question. It's not like, "don't you want some ice cream?" That's an easy one. I don't have to consider if I'm going to spend the rest of my life with that ice cream. Simply because it'll either pass through my digestive system or melt and eventually evaporate. It's a little different with a life altering decision. I guess it would be an easier answer if there were a different set of circumstances in my life right now. Am I ready to get married today? No. Tomorrow? Probably not. Next week? Next month? Next year? Again, I don't know, but as long as Blogger will keep hosting my page, I promise I'll keep you updated.
As far as my dear sister goes... she'll be fine. I lived with her for 14 years under my parent's roof, and if that's any indication, I'm sure she's not the easiest person in the world to date. I'm sure I'm not either... but I think I'm getting better. Once I get this bare-knuckled fighting thing off the ground, I'm sure I'll be a better spousal match for just about anyone.
Regardless, I do have to get going. It's almost 7:30 and time for Seinfeld, and besides, my phone's been ringing off the hook with text messages, and I feel guilty ignoring whoever is on the sending end of this wonder of modern wireless technology. Hence, in order to clear my conscience, I must sign off... wonder if "The Bachelor" is on tonight.
Until next time...
R
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Again with the thumb...
So get this... if you're a loyal reader of my stuff, you know the deal about the thumb and who broke it and how and me passing out and yada, yada, yada. Anyway, as I was watching my beloved Yankees last night, who comes up to bat but... you guessed it, Mark Bellhorn in a Yankees uniform. What are the odds? Last I knew, this clown was playing for my arch rivals, the Boston Red Sox and I hated him because he broke my thumb, and now he's in pinstripes and I pretty much have to like him. Irony. Bitter, bitter irony.
I think it must be a sign; a Red Sox scumbag breaks my thumb, and now he's playing for my favorite team in all of sport. It's a sign. I'm sold... might as well chalk up world championship number 27.
In other news, while on the thumb topic, after the injury, I got a call from Dan Mason, GM of the Rochester Red Wings. All I can say is, what a guy. He said that he was really sorry about the injury, and that next time I wanted to come to a game, he'd take care of me. I told him that he need not apologize... I go to a bunch of games and I know this sort of thing happens every now and again. I complimented him on the professionalism of the emergency staff and thanked him for the phone call. What a nice guy... completely unnecessary, but he did it anyway. That's good stuff. Anyway, I called him today and asked if I could take him up on his offer. He said, "absolutely," and told me that there'll be 2 tickets waiting for me at will call tomorrow night. He also offered to have some of the players sign a ball for me, but I told him that he'd done more than enough already. I gotta say, I am totally impressed with this guy.
This brings up an interesting point. Think about other businesses and what happens when they screw up (not to say that the Rochester Red Wings screwed up at all... I made a lousy attempt at fielding the stupid ball). The answer is, pretty much nothing. Say your cable goes out for a few hours. Does Time Warner call you up and say, "hey, we're going to pro-rate your bill for this month because the service that you over-pay for every month sucked."? I think not. The day that happens is the same day that Tara Reid finally starts returning my phone calls.
More good news... my buddy in Charlotte called me up with the news that he has a bunch of tickets to see the great Jimmy Buffett in, of all places, fabulous Las Vegas on Saturday, October 29th. Can I go? Uh, yeah. I'm all in. Great thing is... non-stop flights from Buffalo are only like $200. I'll be gone Friday through Sunday night. Yeah, you could say I'm excited.
I think it must be a sign; a Red Sox scumbag breaks my thumb, and now he's playing for my favorite team in all of sport. It's a sign. I'm sold... might as well chalk up world championship number 27.
In other news, while on the thumb topic, after the injury, I got a call from Dan Mason, GM of the Rochester Red Wings. All I can say is, what a guy. He said that he was really sorry about the injury, and that next time I wanted to come to a game, he'd take care of me. I told him that he need not apologize... I go to a bunch of games and I know this sort of thing happens every now and again. I complimented him on the professionalism of the emergency staff and thanked him for the phone call. What a nice guy... completely unnecessary, but he did it anyway. That's good stuff. Anyway, I called him today and asked if I could take him up on his offer. He said, "absolutely," and told me that there'll be 2 tickets waiting for me at will call tomorrow night. He also offered to have some of the players sign a ball for me, but I told him that he'd done more than enough already. I gotta say, I am totally impressed with this guy.
This brings up an interesting point. Think about other businesses and what happens when they screw up (not to say that the Rochester Red Wings screwed up at all... I made a lousy attempt at fielding the stupid ball). The answer is, pretty much nothing. Say your cable goes out for a few hours. Does Time Warner call you up and say, "hey, we're going to pro-rate your bill for this month because the service that you over-pay for every month sucked."? I think not. The day that happens is the same day that Tara Reid finally starts returning my phone calls.
More good news... my buddy in Charlotte called me up with the news that he has a bunch of tickets to see the great Jimmy Buffett in, of all places, fabulous Las Vegas on Saturday, October 29th. Can I go? Uh, yeah. I'm all in. Great thing is... non-stop flights from Buffalo are only like $200. I'll be gone Friday through Sunday night. Yeah, you could say I'm excited.
Anyway, again, I must apologize for this post. I know they're usually a little more philosophical than this, but I'm really tired and I don't think the creative juices have managed to surface yet.
By the way, if you haven't been there yet, you simply must give this place a try. It's pretty much my favorite watering hole in Rochester. It's busy, but not so much so that you have to fight for a drink. He always has great bands, and after about your 3rd time in there, he'll start calling you by name. It's called Johnny's Irish Pub, and it's on Culver & Merchants toward Irondequoit. You can pretty much find me there every Friday night... although not this Friday... I have plans... a bunch of us are going out for my buddy's birthday. Happy Birthday, Russ. I know it was Monday the 29th, but Happy Birthday anyway. I'll buy you a shot or 5 on Friday.
On that note, I'm going to sign off. Gotta go play a chess match between my thumb and my heart. OK, Bellhorn, you won this round.
Until next time...
R
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Poker, Saddam & Writer's Block
So here's the latest. I've really been getting into poker lately... to a fault. So much so that I've actually learned all the slang for different pocket hands, and here they are... thought it was kind of cool. By the way, if anyone wants to play me, my ID on partypoker.com is, you guessed it... Rychkid.
A-A: Bullets or Rockets
A-K: Big Slick
K-K: Cowboys
K-J: Kojack
K-9: Old Yeller
Q-Q: Ladies
J-A: Jackass
J-Q: Oedipus
J-J: Fishhooks
J-5: Motown
8-8: Snowmen
7-7: Walking Sticks
6-6: Route 66
5-5: Speed Limit
4-4: Sailboats
3-3: Crabs
2-2: Ducks
Can you tell I haven't been sleeping a whole hell of a lot lately? I have no idea what time I went to bed last night... all I know is that it was freaking late, or early, depending on your perspective. Good God, I need this f'ing thumb to hurry up and heal... I really need to get back to work at least for my own sanity. This sitting around the house, drinking martinis at night, playing poker and sleeping until noon thing is getting really old really quick. Oddly enough, I was actually serious about that last statement.
Once again, I think I have what's classically referred to as writer's block. From what I understand, that's supposed to be a good sign. Maybe my creative juices are just swarming so feverishly that not a one of the little boogers can find it's way to the surface. Maybe there's just so much going on in my life and the world that I don't have a good point of origin. Maybe my thumb injury has done something to the part of my brain that creativity spawns from, or maybe I've had 2 Diet Vanilla Pepsis, 5 cigarettes and I've typed 3 whole paragraphs. I think the buzz from staring at this monitor is giving me brain damage.
Here's something random; when is this Saddam Hussein trial supposed to start, and are they going to broadcast it on Court TV? That's something I would tune in for. Wouldn't it be funny if they went through the whole trial process and a jury found him not guilty? That might be a little awkward. "Yeah, uh... sorry about that whole invasion thing. You just seemed like such a dick from a distance." I would pay green money to see Dubya and his aides tap dance around that one. However, you and I know that my little scenario will unfortunately never come to pass. Bummer.
I think at this point, it's just time to call it quits for today. Whatever trash I write is going to be an exercise in literary masturbation. This is not good writing. I know this and I apologize. Hopefully something will happen later today or tonight and I can over-analyze it and write all about it later tonight or tomorrow.
Until then, I gotta get going... there's a $5/$1 sit-n-go tournament starting.
Until next time...
R
A-A: Bullets or Rockets
A-K: Big Slick
K-K: Cowboys
K-J: Kojack
K-9: Old Yeller
Q-Q: Ladies
J-A: Jackass
J-Q: Oedipus
J-J: Fishhooks
J-5: Motown
8-8: Snowmen
7-7: Walking Sticks
6-6: Route 66
5-5: Speed Limit
4-4: Sailboats
3-3: Crabs
2-2: Ducks
Can you tell I haven't been sleeping a whole hell of a lot lately? I have no idea what time I went to bed last night... all I know is that it was freaking late, or early, depending on your perspective. Good God, I need this f'ing thumb to hurry up and heal... I really need to get back to work at least for my own sanity. This sitting around the house, drinking martinis at night, playing poker and sleeping until noon thing is getting really old really quick. Oddly enough, I was actually serious about that last statement.
Once again, I think I have what's classically referred to as writer's block. From what I understand, that's supposed to be a good sign. Maybe my creative juices are just swarming so feverishly that not a one of the little boogers can find it's way to the surface. Maybe there's just so much going on in my life and the world that I don't have a good point of origin. Maybe my thumb injury has done something to the part of my brain that creativity spawns from, or maybe I've had 2 Diet Vanilla Pepsis, 5 cigarettes and I've typed 3 whole paragraphs. I think the buzz from staring at this monitor is giving me brain damage.
Here's something random; when is this Saddam Hussein trial supposed to start, and are they going to broadcast it on Court TV? That's something I would tune in for. Wouldn't it be funny if they went through the whole trial process and a jury found him not guilty? That might be a little awkward. "Yeah, uh... sorry about that whole invasion thing. You just seemed like such a dick from a distance." I would pay green money to see Dubya and his aides tap dance around that one. However, you and I know that my little scenario will unfortunately never come to pass. Bummer.
I think at this point, it's just time to call it quits for today. Whatever trash I write is going to be an exercise in literary masturbation. This is not good writing. I know this and I apologize. Hopefully something will happen later today or tonight and I can over-analyze it and write all about it later tonight or tomorrow.
Until then, I gotta get going... there's a $5/$1 sit-n-go tournament starting.
Until next time...
R
It's just about time...
Think I need a new look... or, a facelift rather. Thanks J, for the idea.
Couple new things... I put a sitemeter hit counter on the bottom to replace the old one. It was only on for about a week, so no biggie, but I did have 650 hits... not bad. Anyway, hope you like the new look, and I'll try to write some crap later today.
Couple new things... I put a sitemeter hit counter on the bottom to replace the old one. It was only on for about a week, so no biggie, but I did have 650 hits... not bad. Anyway, hope you like the new look, and I'll try to write some crap later today.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
That's right, people... I said 5
So here we are... another delicious Thursday afternoon in sunny Rochester. Literally, it is sunny, so I'm not my typical cynical and sarcastic self. The weather is beautiful... wish you were here.
Anyway, on with my rant...
Today I had to go to the hand specialist again to pick up the paperwork that he had to fill out for my company. I got all the way to the car before I decided to flip through and make sure that it was all filled out and, sure enough, there was one page incomplete. Bummer. I did, however, have a sparkling realization while I was headed back up to this guy's office, and here it is; when people ask him what he does for a living, he can honestly say, "I have a hand job." What a great line of work. Next time I'm in there I'm going to ask him how I can get a hand job. Now there's a career path I may have overlooked. Yes, I did make myself laugh out loud in the elevator. I am the funniest person I know.
So anyway, while I'm now into my second week of disability leave with my gimpy thumb, I've gotten fairly used to getting up, brushing my teeth, and logging on to CNN.com. There is a story on there today, and I couldn't make this shit up. Whoever the crack journalist is that wrote this headline should be given the fucking Pulitzer. The headline was; "Wal-Mart Shooting Suspect Mentally Disturbed." Really? No shit? I would have thought that this guy was completely mentally stable. Typically when I read about some asshole that goes on a shooting rampage in the parking lot of a high volume deep discount retailer with geriatric patients in navy blue vests and name tags with smiley-face stickers greeting me when I go in the store, I actually say to myself in my best game show host voice, "wow... this guy's really got his shit together!" Again, for those of you who are new to my literary endeavors, I was expressing sarcasm.
It's stupid shit like this that makes me think that I could write for CNN. Granted, I may not have the political insight as say a Tucker Carlson (he's a dick, by the way), but I think I could throw together better slop than the rubbish that I read today. I think the only problem that I would have with that would be if they made me travel to the Middle East where tall, blonde haired, blue eyed geeks like me typically wind up minus a head. That would just suck, and I don't think I'd be able to be out on disability for an injury like that... otherwise, sign me up.
The funny thing about that story is every time they catch some sicko on the news, every one of his neighbors says something to the effect of, "yeah, he seemed like a really nice, normal guy... he nurtured orchids and raised hamsters... I never saw this coming." You never see the neighbors coming out and saying, "oh yeah... saw this one a mile away, it was just a matter of time before this guy snapped... he used to sit out on the porch with a shotgun, Mein Kampf, and a turtle named Timmy that he would take orders from." I digress. This Wal-Mart jackass apparently was a state mental patient. Way to take care of your own, Arizona.
Ladies and gentlemen, I've been through five, that's right, five shrinks in my life. I don't mean shrinks or shrinkage in the Seinfeld sense of the word... I mean therapists. They were all worthless, or, on second thought, maybe they were really good but I was just too fucked up to even deal with them. Either way, the point that I'm making here is that after all five of those quacks, you're still not going to find me in a parking lot waving a gun around... well, at least not at Wal-Mart.
Regardless, my apologies for the short post this evening. I've been up entirely too late recently and I think it's affecting my creativity and literary prowess. Either that or the Vicodin is turning me into a complete moron. My money's on the former.
So that's it for this evening, kids... gotta run to Wegman's and pray that there's a space close. There damn well better be... but don't worry, I don't own a firearm.
Until next time...
R
Anyway, on with my rant...
Today I had to go to the hand specialist again to pick up the paperwork that he had to fill out for my company. I got all the way to the car before I decided to flip through and make sure that it was all filled out and, sure enough, there was one page incomplete. Bummer. I did, however, have a sparkling realization while I was headed back up to this guy's office, and here it is; when people ask him what he does for a living, he can honestly say, "I have a hand job." What a great line of work. Next time I'm in there I'm going to ask him how I can get a hand job. Now there's a career path I may have overlooked. Yes, I did make myself laugh out loud in the elevator. I am the funniest person I know.
So anyway, while I'm now into my second week of disability leave with my gimpy thumb, I've gotten fairly used to getting up, brushing my teeth, and logging on to CNN.com. There is a story on there today, and I couldn't make this shit up. Whoever the crack journalist is that wrote this headline should be given the fucking Pulitzer. The headline was; "Wal-Mart Shooting Suspect Mentally Disturbed." Really? No shit? I would have thought that this guy was completely mentally stable. Typically when I read about some asshole that goes on a shooting rampage in the parking lot of a high volume deep discount retailer with geriatric patients in navy blue vests and name tags with smiley-face stickers greeting me when I go in the store, I actually say to myself in my best game show host voice, "wow... this guy's really got his shit together!" Again, for those of you who are new to my literary endeavors, I was expressing sarcasm.
It's stupid shit like this that makes me think that I could write for CNN. Granted, I may not have the political insight as say a Tucker Carlson (he's a dick, by the way), but I think I could throw together better slop than the rubbish that I read today. I think the only problem that I would have with that would be if they made me travel to the Middle East where tall, blonde haired, blue eyed geeks like me typically wind up minus a head. That would just suck, and I don't think I'd be able to be out on disability for an injury like that... otherwise, sign me up.
The funny thing about that story is every time they catch some sicko on the news, every one of his neighbors says something to the effect of, "yeah, he seemed like a really nice, normal guy... he nurtured orchids and raised hamsters... I never saw this coming." You never see the neighbors coming out and saying, "oh yeah... saw this one a mile away, it was just a matter of time before this guy snapped... he used to sit out on the porch with a shotgun, Mein Kampf, and a turtle named Timmy that he would take orders from." I digress. This Wal-Mart jackass apparently was a state mental patient. Way to take care of your own, Arizona.
Ladies and gentlemen, I've been through five, that's right, five shrinks in my life. I don't mean shrinks or shrinkage in the Seinfeld sense of the word... I mean therapists. They were all worthless, or, on second thought, maybe they were really good but I was just too fucked up to even deal with them. Either way, the point that I'm making here is that after all five of those quacks, you're still not going to find me in a parking lot waving a gun around... well, at least not at Wal-Mart.
Regardless, my apologies for the short post this evening. I've been up entirely too late recently and I think it's affecting my creativity and literary prowess. Either that or the Vicodin is turning me into a complete moron. My money's on the former.
So that's it for this evening, kids... gotta run to Wegman's and pray that there's a space close. There damn well better be... but don't worry, I don't own a firearm.
Until next time...
R
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Just an update
Well, folks... here's the latest.
Again, as I type with one hand... ahem... I went to see the hand specialist today, who informed me that I have one of the most painful injuries you can possibly have.
He gave me another script for Vicadin, along with a note keeping me out of work for three frickin weeks. This is really starting to suck. I really, really, really hate the Red Sox.
That's all for now... one handed typing really, really sucks.
Until next time...
R
Again, as I type with one hand... ahem... I went to see the hand specialist today, who informed me that I have one of the most painful injuries you can possibly have.
He gave me another script for Vicadin, along with a note keeping me out of work for three frickin weeks. This is really starting to suck. I really, really, really hate the Red Sox.
That's all for now... one handed typing really, really sucks.
Until next time...
R
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Honestly, I never thought it would be possible for me to find or need another reason to hate the Boston Red Sox, but as I sit here and try to type with just my right hand, I do have yet another. Last week, Mark Bellhorn, 2nd baseman for the loathesome Boston Red Sox, was sent to Boston's AAA affiliate, the Pawtucket Red Sox on a 20 day rehab assignment due to a spraigned thumb. Well, last night, those same Pawtucket Red Sox were in Rochester playing against our own Rochester Red Wings. In the third inning of the second game of the double-header, Bellhorn ripped a foul ball right at me. I stood up, assumed the correct position to properly field the ball, when this rocket of a hit took a wierd hop, jumped up, and hit my left thumb on the very tip. The ball either ripped the nail backwards or pushed it back, and... BOOM... blood everywhere. I ran to the first aid station, got cleaned up, and promptly passed out on the gurney. When I finally came to, they wheeled me out of the stadium on the gurney, as people watched in horror at my terrible disfigurement. They rushed me to the hospital, where x-rays revealed that the ball had broken the tip of the bone OFF!!! Anyway, they casted me up, gave me a tetanus shot, and sent me home with a Vicatin prescription. I look like Mickey frickin' Mouse with this thing on. However, because typing with one hand is a world class pain in the ass, I'll write some more at a later date. Damn you Mark Bellhorn, and damn that team full of hippies for which you play. Thanks for getting me out of work for a couple of days at least. Until next time... R
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Are you gonna live your life wonderin’ standing in the back lookin’ around?
Are you gonna waste your time thinkin' how you’ve grown up or how you missed out?
Things are never gonna be the way you want.
Where's it gonna get you acting serious?
Things are never gonna be quite what you want.
Or even at 25, you gotta start sometime.
I’m on my feet, I’m on the floor, I’m good to go.
Now all I need is just to hear a song I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
Are you gonna live your life standing in the back looking around?
Are you gonna waste your time?
Gotta make a move or you'll miss out.
Someone's gonna ask you what it’s all about.
Stick around nostalgia won't let you down.
Someone's gonna ask you what it’s all about.
Whatcha gonna have to say for yourself?
I’m on my feet, I’m on the floor, I’m good to go.
Now all I need is just to hear a song I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
Crimson and clover, over and over.
Crimson and clover, over and over.
Our house in the middle of the street, why did we ever meet?
Started my rock 'n roll fantasy.
Don't don't, don't let's start, why did we ever part?
Kick start my rock 'n rollen heart.
I’m on my feet, I’m on the floor, I’m good to go.
So come on Davey, sing me somethin’ that I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
Here tonight.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
-Jimmy Eat World
I wanna fall in love tonight.
-Rychkid
Are you gonna waste your time thinkin' how you’ve grown up or how you missed out?
Things are never gonna be the way you want.
Where's it gonna get you acting serious?
Things are never gonna be quite what you want.
Or even at 25, you gotta start sometime.
I’m on my feet, I’m on the floor, I’m good to go.
Now all I need is just to hear a song I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
Are you gonna live your life standing in the back looking around?
Are you gonna waste your time?
Gotta make a move or you'll miss out.
Someone's gonna ask you what it’s all about.
Stick around nostalgia won't let you down.
Someone's gonna ask you what it’s all about.
Whatcha gonna have to say for yourself?
I’m on my feet, I’m on the floor, I’m good to go.
Now all I need is just to hear a song I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
Crimson and clover, over and over.
Crimson and clover, over and over.
Our house in the middle of the street, why did we ever meet?
Started my rock 'n roll fantasy.
Don't don't, don't let's start, why did we ever part?
Kick start my rock 'n rollen heart.
I’m on my feet, I’m on the floor, I’m good to go.
So come on Davey, sing me somethin’ that I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
Here tonight.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love tonight.
-Jimmy Eat World
I wanna fall in love tonight.
-Rychkid
How I know I'm home
I happened to be looking through my digital camera and found this pic from a couple days after I got it. I love this picture becase this is how I know I'm home. Coming in on 490 to the great city of Rochester and seeing that skyline gives me that homey feeling that I don't get anywhere else. Yeah, I know it's not the greatest city in the world, but after 24 years of living in a virtual armpit, it's a place that I love and a place that I call home.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
College, the Bills, and my roof
Well, people... I believe that I have what's known in the biz as writer's block. Not that I really consider myself a writer in the literary sense of the word, but more of a writer in the figurative. Insomuch as Yoko Ono was a singer, I am a writer. Granted I was never involved with a Beatle, but you get the idea. Anyway, my goal here is just to ramble on and maybe something will come to me.
Hmmm... nothing yet.
Hmmm... oh yeah, did you ever notice that... scratch that... never mind.
Still nothing.
Nope, still drawing a blank.
Ok... here's something; a couple of weeks ago, I went to Kirkville, NY to attend my cousin's high school graduation party. It was really nice; got to see my aunt and uncle that I never get to see, got to (obviously) see my cousin whom I haven't seen in like four years, and got to spend a little time with my mom and her soon-to-be husband. They did a really nice job with the party; catered, lawn games, a big tent, citronella candles, the whole nine. All of this to congratulate my cousin, Joey, on his graduation from high school, and to wish him well for the next (hopefully) four years at George Washington University. For those of you that don't know, it's in Washington, D.C., about a (guessing here) 7 hour drive from Syracuse. The reason that the origin of that journey and the drive time is significant is this; his girlfriend of 3 years will be attending Syracuse University.
Toward the evening's close, I was getting ready to leave, Joey retreated to the basement with his friends for a few games of Texas Hold 'Em, and the aforementioned girlfriend was sitting in the kitchen, chatting with my mom and aunt. I felt compelled to sit in on this conversation, simply because I thought I knew where it was going, and wanted to either confirm or disprove my suspicions.
Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed... I think it may have been the rose-colored glasses that this little bright-eyed high school grad was wearing just a second before I came in, but as sure as the Pope wears a goofy hat, there it was; "well, I'm sure once we get settled, he'll be up to visit me, I'll head down there to visit him... yada, yada, yada." Well, honey... I got some news for ya.
As much as you probably don't want to hear this, and as much as you're not going to believe this; your little idea of "high school sweetheart goes off to the big city for school has a great time but we wind up together in the end" isn't going to happen. Unfortunately, this is reality, and none of us live on the WB Network (as nice as that sounds... I think I could get used to being called Pacy... no, wait... no I couldn't... he's such a wuss and Pacy is a retarded name). It just doesn't work that way. I'd love to be able to tell you different, but just about the same time you're downing your 9th Jell-O shot at Sigma Delta Whatever and some dreamy senior named T.J., B.J. or Steve is just about to take you back to his room to show you his bottle cap collection, guess what Mr. High School Sweetheart is doing about 500 miles away from you. If your answer is, "he's in his dorm room enjoying a Diet Vanilla Pepsi and diligently typing me an email as he shops online for engagement rings," in short, you're wrong.
Now, before you go and tell me to go F myself and that I don't know what I'm talking about and I'm just bitter and jaded... well on those two notes you're probably right, but hear me out. Just answer me one simple question, and I'll back off. Here it is; when was the last time you got exactly what you wanted from something that you haven't experienced? How about this; do you like to eat eel? You know, the sushi or sashimi or whatever. I'm guessing that your answer is that you don't know, simply because you've never tried it. My point here is this; until you try something, you don't know the outcome. Now don't get me wrong, any time I get a new Playstation 2 game and my former roommate comes over, I'm 90% sure that I'm going to whoop his ass, however there is that 10% chance that he'll punk me around like a little bitch... but the odds aren't good. Yes, I know going away to college and staying with your HS boyfriend who's 500 miles away and trying sushi are a far cry from one another, but I hope you get my point. And as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, there's one thing I know... after 9 Jell-O shots, T.J., B.J., or Steve is going to look like Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and Albert Einstein all rolled into one... he's kind of going to look like me... kind of. The good news is that 500 miles away, your boyfriend is doing the same thing, although instead of a guy named B.J., he's, well, insert collegiate sex joke here.
Here's some more good news, my dear. It won't take long for you to recover. Trust the Rychkid... he knows whereof he speaks. Everything will be rough for a while... you know, feelings of guilt, regret, that empty feeling you get when you feel like you'll never meet anyone like the one you lost... believe me, again, I know. You will, however, survive, and tomorrow, the sun will rise. It's painful to think about, I know, and I'm not a pessimist, I'm simply a realist, and while I really do enjoy your naivete, it's not in a negative way. It's not in a "point and laugh" kind of way. In reality, it's nice to see that kind of blind hope, the kind that Buffalo Bills fans have, the kind that made my friend Kevan move to Florida with who he believes to be the love of his life, and the kind that ultimately keeps me from throwing myself off the roof of my building every night. It's the belief that despite the odds, things will work out... that he is, in fact, in that dorm room with a cold beverage yearning for the time when you will be by his side again... the belief that the rookie J.P. Losman will lead our team to the promised land... the belief that at 36 years old moving to Florida with that girl is absolutely the right thing to do, and the belief that I am destined for a higher purpose and that my soulmate is out there somewhere.
Let me close with this, and I'm not going to tell you to prove me wrong... that would go against all I believe in when it comes to human nature. I'm just going to tell you go with it... and by that I mean experience all that college has to offer. It's going to be the best (hopefully) four years of your life... believe me on this one. Also, believe me that you can't go back, and if you restrain yourself, you're going to regret it. There's nothing sadder than regret... it just sucks. Also, I wish you the best and wish that I could just be in your shoes about 6 months from now... it's going to be a blast.
Anyway, the Rychkid has to be going... gotta update my fantasy football picks for the upcoming draft. I wonder if there's a good rookie quarterback available.
Until next time...
R
Hmmm... nothing yet.
Hmmm... oh yeah, did you ever notice that... scratch that... never mind.
Still nothing.
Nope, still drawing a blank.
Ok... here's something; a couple of weeks ago, I went to Kirkville, NY to attend my cousin's high school graduation party. It was really nice; got to see my aunt and uncle that I never get to see, got to (obviously) see my cousin whom I haven't seen in like four years, and got to spend a little time with my mom and her soon-to-be husband. They did a really nice job with the party; catered, lawn games, a big tent, citronella candles, the whole nine. All of this to congratulate my cousin, Joey, on his graduation from high school, and to wish him well for the next (hopefully) four years at George Washington University. For those of you that don't know, it's in Washington, D.C., about a (guessing here) 7 hour drive from Syracuse. The reason that the origin of that journey and the drive time is significant is this; his girlfriend of 3 years will be attending Syracuse University.
Toward the evening's close, I was getting ready to leave, Joey retreated to the basement with his friends for a few games of Texas Hold 'Em, and the aforementioned girlfriend was sitting in the kitchen, chatting with my mom and aunt. I felt compelled to sit in on this conversation, simply because I thought I knew where it was going, and wanted to either confirm or disprove my suspicions.
Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed... I think it may have been the rose-colored glasses that this little bright-eyed high school grad was wearing just a second before I came in, but as sure as the Pope wears a goofy hat, there it was; "well, I'm sure once we get settled, he'll be up to visit me, I'll head down there to visit him... yada, yada, yada." Well, honey... I got some news for ya.
As much as you probably don't want to hear this, and as much as you're not going to believe this; your little idea of "high school sweetheart goes off to the big city for school has a great time but we wind up together in the end" isn't going to happen. Unfortunately, this is reality, and none of us live on the WB Network (as nice as that sounds... I think I could get used to being called Pacy... no, wait... no I couldn't... he's such a wuss and Pacy is a retarded name). It just doesn't work that way. I'd love to be able to tell you different, but just about the same time you're downing your 9th Jell-O shot at Sigma Delta Whatever and some dreamy senior named T.J., B.J. or Steve is just about to take you back to his room to show you his bottle cap collection, guess what Mr. High School Sweetheart is doing about 500 miles away from you. If your answer is, "he's in his dorm room enjoying a Diet Vanilla Pepsi and diligently typing me an email as he shops online for engagement rings," in short, you're wrong.
Now, before you go and tell me to go F myself and that I don't know what I'm talking about and I'm just bitter and jaded... well on those two notes you're probably right, but hear me out. Just answer me one simple question, and I'll back off. Here it is; when was the last time you got exactly what you wanted from something that you haven't experienced? How about this; do you like to eat eel? You know, the sushi or sashimi or whatever. I'm guessing that your answer is that you don't know, simply because you've never tried it. My point here is this; until you try something, you don't know the outcome. Now don't get me wrong, any time I get a new Playstation 2 game and my former roommate comes over, I'm 90% sure that I'm going to whoop his ass, however there is that 10% chance that he'll punk me around like a little bitch... but the odds aren't good. Yes, I know going away to college and staying with your HS boyfriend who's 500 miles away and trying sushi are a far cry from one another, but I hope you get my point. And as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, there's one thing I know... after 9 Jell-O shots, T.J., B.J., or Steve is going to look like Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and Albert Einstein all rolled into one... he's kind of going to look like me... kind of. The good news is that 500 miles away, your boyfriend is doing the same thing, although instead of a guy named B.J., he's, well, insert collegiate sex joke here.
Here's some more good news, my dear. It won't take long for you to recover. Trust the Rychkid... he knows whereof he speaks. Everything will be rough for a while... you know, feelings of guilt, regret, that empty feeling you get when you feel like you'll never meet anyone like the one you lost... believe me, again, I know. You will, however, survive, and tomorrow, the sun will rise. It's painful to think about, I know, and I'm not a pessimist, I'm simply a realist, and while I really do enjoy your naivete, it's not in a negative way. It's not in a "point and laugh" kind of way. In reality, it's nice to see that kind of blind hope, the kind that Buffalo Bills fans have, the kind that made my friend Kevan move to Florida with who he believes to be the love of his life, and the kind that ultimately keeps me from throwing myself off the roof of my building every night. It's the belief that despite the odds, things will work out... that he is, in fact, in that dorm room with a cold beverage yearning for the time when you will be by his side again... the belief that the rookie J.P. Losman will lead our team to the promised land... the belief that at 36 years old moving to Florida with that girl is absolutely the right thing to do, and the belief that I am destined for a higher purpose and that my soulmate is out there somewhere.
Let me close with this, and I'm not going to tell you to prove me wrong... that would go against all I believe in when it comes to human nature. I'm just going to tell you go with it... and by that I mean experience all that college has to offer. It's going to be the best (hopefully) four years of your life... believe me on this one. Also, believe me that you can't go back, and if you restrain yourself, you're going to regret it. There's nothing sadder than regret... it just sucks. Also, I wish you the best and wish that I could just be in your shoes about 6 months from now... it's going to be a blast.
Anyway, the Rychkid has to be going... gotta update my fantasy football picks for the upcoming draft. I wonder if there's a good rookie quarterback available.
Until next time...
R
The illustrious Berkeley Apartments... home of: the corner apartment. That's me on the right side of the pic, right in the middle, and the one to the right of that, which makes up my posh New York two bedroom brownstone apartment. I know, I know... looks pretty ritzy, and as soon as I find enough pop cans, I'll have enough for last month's rent.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
The self serving post
Well, seeing as I haven't posted in a while, at the request of my loyal readers, here is the newest post. Enjoy.
It's the end of Park Ave. Fest 2005, and I got my obligatory poster from this year's festival, but rather than go on and on about the weekend's festivities, this is what I've decided to do and the reason why. I met a bunch of people this weekend, and when you get into those "new person" conversations, they're pretty much all the same; what do you do, where are you from, how long have you lived here... yada, yada, yada. So, in order to dispense with all the redundancies, I'm just going to refer people to my blog and tell them to read (get ready) "100 things about me." Having said that, here goes, and they are in no particular order, so strap in and read on.
1. I am (yikes) 34 years old.
2. I am single.
3. I have never been married.
4. I have no kids (that I know of).
5. My middle name is Louis.
6. I am right handed.
7. Although I have many gay friends, I am straight.
8. I'm smarter than you.
9. People think I'm funny, but I think I use humor as a defense mechanism.
10. My shoe size is 10.5.
11. I smoke Marlboro Lights.
12. I have a really big TV.
13. My favorite singer/band/performer/whatever is Jimmy Buffett, and his birthday is on Christmas (in case you were wondering).
14. When I was 10 years old I won $50 in a church raffle, and bought Asteroids for my Atari system with the money.
15. My favorite food is cheeseburgers. The best ones on the planet are at the Earle Street Grill in Ormond Beach, Florida.
16. My two best friends are married and live in St. Petersburg, FL, and Charlotte, NC, respectively. A lot of times I wonder what my life would be like if I moved South.
17. I am afraid of needles and I pass out whenever I have to have blood drawn.
18. I'm really good at NHL Hockey by EA Sports for PS2.
19. I can roll my tongue.
20. I do a great Al Pacino impression, but my Christopher Walken needs work.
21. I went through 5 different therapists from age 13 to age 22. My parents made me go to them because they thought I was unhappy. They (my parents) couldn't figure out the simple truth that they are the ones that fucked me all up. Every one of those therapists sucked. Know what therapy is? It's guessing at $150 an hour. Psychology is bullshit. Period. I have a BA in Psychology.
22. I love the New York Yankees.
23. I hate the Boston Red Sox.
24. My high game in bowling is 269.
25. I have never traveled outside of the U.S. except for Canada. I don't really count Canada as leaving the country because it's an hour away. I don't think you should be able to say you have left the country unless you had to get on a plane and fly over a large body of water to do it.
26. I do not agree with the war in Iraq.
27. I do not believe that NASCAR is a sport. It's driving.
28. My parents are divorced.
29. I can hit a golf ball 300+ yards.
30. My favorite hockey player is Mike Modano.
31. I once inadvertently stole 2 oranges from Wegmans. Long story.
32. I believe in God and that he (or she) does not hate me.
33. I have 19 pens and an X-Acto knife in a cup on my desk.
34. I once dated a Miss America contestant.
35. I am afraid of heights, but flying doesn't bother me.
36. The love of my life got married a couple of weeks ago, and it absolutely crushed me. I cried for 2 days. She broke my heart 12 years ago, and not a day goes by that I don't think about her. Sorry for the downer.
37. I am strangely attracted to Carrie Fisher. Maybe it was the metal bikini thing she wore in Return of the Jedi. I don't know.
38. I have a chicken pox scar on the right side of my rib cage.
39. I no longer have tonsils.
40. I know a lot of stupid bar tricks.
41. The combination to my locker in junior high school was 26-36-6.
42. My favorite movie is True Romance.
43. I am a 3rd Degree Master Mason.
44. I once accepted a shitty job just so that I could quit the shitty job that I already had.
45. A girl once saved my life with a phone call. To this day she has no idea about this.
46. Sometimes when I'm bored, I go up to the top of my building and spit down on to the sidewalk below. However, I won't look over the edge (remember, afraid of heights) to see if it hit anyone. I'll just wait to hear the expletive "what the fuck???" from below. Then, I go back into my apartment and watch my really big TV.
47. My favorite television show ever is Seinfeld. It's brilliant.
48. I think it would be cool to have sex with a midget.
49. I do not collect anything.
50. I pray every day that my father finds happiness.
51. I have a spider living in my bathroom and I refuse to kill him. I call him Al. Whenever I happen to find any type of insect in my apartment (fly, ant, whatever) I grab it and throw it into Al's web so that he can eat. I secretly fear that he will get enormous and be able to kill me, but he won't because I fed him.
52. I believe in Karma.
53. Every year I go to the movies by myself on my birthday.
54. My dream job is to be the lead singer in a nationally successful band.
55. I had sex with a married woman because she said she was going through a divorce. She lied.
56. When I was 11 years old and playing little league, I was batting and the pitcher hit me in the head. It cracked the helmet from one side to the other. That sucked.
57. Once when I was 10, my mom asked me to go to the store for a loaf of Italian bread. So I stuck my fat friend on the back of my bike and subsequently wiped out. I broke my front right tooth and scraped my face along the pavement. So now I have a plastic tooth.
58. I cannot judge a fly ball in softball, so I have to play infield.
59. I honestly believe that I could have been a professional athlete if I would have worked harder at any of the sports I played.
60. The first time I was on ice skates I fell face first into the ice and got a concussion and a black eye.
61. I like to flirt with other guy's girlfriends, but I get insanely jealous if the girl I'm out with flirts with someone else.
62. I hate people that use that walkie-talkie feature on their phone while in public or in a crowd. That really pisses me off.
63. I think the words "tuna melt" are funny and I laugh when I hear someone order it.
64. My pant size is 33-34.
65. I have a lot of ties and I hate to wear any of them.
66. My Christmas is going to suck this year.
67. I have an autographed jersey from Miroslav Satan and an autographed stick from Jean-Luc Grand-Pierre.
68. I think I'm jealous of my friend's girlfriend because now she gets more of his time than I do. It bothers me that I feel that way.
69. The song that I would like to have played at my funeral is "Lovely Cruise" by Jimmy Buffett.
70. I am extremely loyal to my friends.
71. I think that the people that wrote "He's Just Not Into You" and "The Rules" are completely full of shit.
72. I have an overwhelming desire to go on vacation by myself.
73. I have a cream-colored leather sectional couch.
74. My mother is re-marrying in October. I don't know how I feel about that.
75. I do not believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.
76. I once got drunk and made out with a fat girl in the middle of a club. Not just fat, really fat.
77. I am 6'1" and weigh 163 lbs.
78. Samantha was the best dog ever.
79. I can't do a hand stand.
80. Once I ordered a chicken sandwich at Wendy's and I bit into a big gross blue slimy thing in the middle of the sandwich. I threw up, and haven't set foot in a Wendy's since.
81. I am really good at taping up a hockey stick.
82. I have a really high alcohol tolerance.
83. I like to say "niner" instead of just saying nine.
84. I think I turned out OK despite my lousy childhood.
85. I think the most attractive feature on a woman is a brain, although a nice body doesn't hurt.
86. I am a good typist.
87. I could never solve Rubik's Cube.
88. My favorite color is red.
89. When I was 16, I got into a car accident within 2 weeks of getting my license.
90. The dentist I used to go to sucked. Her name is Dr. Susan Bracker and she sucks.
91. I took Viagra once and really liked it.
92. I lost my virginity on December 17, 1988. I remember this because it was my sister's birthday.
93. I have pictures of jazz musicians on the wall in my office, but I don't own any jazz music.
94. My favorite sports teams are the New York Yankees, the Buffalo Bills, the Buffalo Sabres and the Syracuse University Orange.
95. I think that Jim Rome is the best sports talk show host ever.
96. A lesbian once punched me in the face and gave me a black eye because I slept with her ex-girlfriend. I didn't hit her back.
97. I was a bartender for 3 years.
98. I threw up at King's Island in Cincinnati after going on the teacup ride because my cousin made it spin too fast.
99. I graduated from St. Bonaventure University.
100. I like believing in the idea that I have a soulmate somewhere out there.
Well, that's it. If anyone would like more information, please don't hesitate to contact me. Until then, I'm just going to head back out to the corner apartment and watch my really big TV on my cream-colored leather sectional couch.
As always...
R
It's the end of Park Ave. Fest 2005, and I got my obligatory poster from this year's festival, but rather than go on and on about the weekend's festivities, this is what I've decided to do and the reason why. I met a bunch of people this weekend, and when you get into those "new person" conversations, they're pretty much all the same; what do you do, where are you from, how long have you lived here... yada, yada, yada. So, in order to dispense with all the redundancies, I'm just going to refer people to my blog and tell them to read (get ready) "100 things about me." Having said that, here goes, and they are in no particular order, so strap in and read on.
1. I am (yikes) 34 years old.
2. I am single.
3. I have never been married.
4. I have no kids (that I know of).
5. My middle name is Louis.
6. I am right handed.
7. Although I have many gay friends, I am straight.
8. I'm smarter than you.
9. People think I'm funny, but I think I use humor as a defense mechanism.
10. My shoe size is 10.5.
11. I smoke Marlboro Lights.
12. I have a really big TV.
13. My favorite singer/band/performer/whatever is Jimmy Buffett, and his birthday is on Christmas (in case you were wondering).
14. When I was 10 years old I won $50 in a church raffle, and bought Asteroids for my Atari system with the money.
15. My favorite food is cheeseburgers. The best ones on the planet are at the Earle Street Grill in Ormond Beach, Florida.
16. My two best friends are married and live in St. Petersburg, FL, and Charlotte, NC, respectively. A lot of times I wonder what my life would be like if I moved South.
17. I am afraid of needles and I pass out whenever I have to have blood drawn.
18. I'm really good at NHL Hockey by EA Sports for PS2.
19. I can roll my tongue.
20. I do a great Al Pacino impression, but my Christopher Walken needs work.
21. I went through 5 different therapists from age 13 to age 22. My parents made me go to them because they thought I was unhappy. They (my parents) couldn't figure out the simple truth that they are the ones that fucked me all up. Every one of those therapists sucked. Know what therapy is? It's guessing at $150 an hour. Psychology is bullshit. Period. I have a BA in Psychology.
22. I love the New York Yankees.
23. I hate the Boston Red Sox.
24. My high game in bowling is 269.
25. I have never traveled outside of the U.S. except for Canada. I don't really count Canada as leaving the country because it's an hour away. I don't think you should be able to say you have left the country unless you had to get on a plane and fly over a large body of water to do it.
26. I do not agree with the war in Iraq.
27. I do not believe that NASCAR is a sport. It's driving.
28. My parents are divorced.
29. I can hit a golf ball 300+ yards.
30. My favorite hockey player is Mike Modano.
31. I once inadvertently stole 2 oranges from Wegmans. Long story.
32. I believe in God and that he (or she) does not hate me.
33. I have 19 pens and an X-Acto knife in a cup on my desk.
34. I once dated a Miss America contestant.
35. I am afraid of heights, but flying doesn't bother me.
36. The love of my life got married a couple of weeks ago, and it absolutely crushed me. I cried for 2 days. She broke my heart 12 years ago, and not a day goes by that I don't think about her. Sorry for the downer.
37. I am strangely attracted to Carrie Fisher. Maybe it was the metal bikini thing she wore in Return of the Jedi. I don't know.
38. I have a chicken pox scar on the right side of my rib cage.
39. I no longer have tonsils.
40. I know a lot of stupid bar tricks.
41. The combination to my locker in junior high school was 26-36-6.
42. My favorite movie is True Romance.
43. I am a 3rd Degree Master Mason.
44. I once accepted a shitty job just so that I could quit the shitty job that I already had.
45. A girl once saved my life with a phone call. To this day she has no idea about this.
46. Sometimes when I'm bored, I go up to the top of my building and spit down on to the sidewalk below. However, I won't look over the edge (remember, afraid of heights) to see if it hit anyone. I'll just wait to hear the expletive "what the fuck???" from below. Then, I go back into my apartment and watch my really big TV.
47. My favorite television show ever is Seinfeld. It's brilliant.
48. I think it would be cool to have sex with a midget.
49. I do not collect anything.
50. I pray every day that my father finds happiness.
51. I have a spider living in my bathroom and I refuse to kill him. I call him Al. Whenever I happen to find any type of insect in my apartment (fly, ant, whatever) I grab it and throw it into Al's web so that he can eat. I secretly fear that he will get enormous and be able to kill me, but he won't because I fed him.
52. I believe in Karma.
53. Every year I go to the movies by myself on my birthday.
54. My dream job is to be the lead singer in a nationally successful band.
55. I had sex with a married woman because she said she was going through a divorce. She lied.
56. When I was 11 years old and playing little league, I was batting and the pitcher hit me in the head. It cracked the helmet from one side to the other. That sucked.
57. Once when I was 10, my mom asked me to go to the store for a loaf of Italian bread. So I stuck my fat friend on the back of my bike and subsequently wiped out. I broke my front right tooth and scraped my face along the pavement. So now I have a plastic tooth.
58. I cannot judge a fly ball in softball, so I have to play infield.
59. I honestly believe that I could have been a professional athlete if I would have worked harder at any of the sports I played.
60. The first time I was on ice skates I fell face first into the ice and got a concussion and a black eye.
61. I like to flirt with other guy's girlfriends, but I get insanely jealous if the girl I'm out with flirts with someone else.
62. I hate people that use that walkie-talkie feature on their phone while in public or in a crowd. That really pisses me off.
63. I think the words "tuna melt" are funny and I laugh when I hear someone order it.
64. My pant size is 33-34.
65. I have a lot of ties and I hate to wear any of them.
66. My Christmas is going to suck this year.
67. I have an autographed jersey from Miroslav Satan and an autographed stick from Jean-Luc Grand-Pierre.
68. I think I'm jealous of my friend's girlfriend because now she gets more of his time than I do. It bothers me that I feel that way.
69. The song that I would like to have played at my funeral is "Lovely Cruise" by Jimmy Buffett.
70. I am extremely loyal to my friends.
71. I think that the people that wrote "He's Just Not Into You" and "The Rules" are completely full of shit.
72. I have an overwhelming desire to go on vacation by myself.
73. I have a cream-colored leather sectional couch.
74. My mother is re-marrying in October. I don't know how I feel about that.
75. I do not believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.
76. I once got drunk and made out with a fat girl in the middle of a club. Not just fat, really fat.
77. I am 6'1" and weigh 163 lbs.
78. Samantha was the best dog ever.
79. I can't do a hand stand.
80. Once I ordered a chicken sandwich at Wendy's and I bit into a big gross blue slimy thing in the middle of the sandwich. I threw up, and haven't set foot in a Wendy's since.
81. I am really good at taping up a hockey stick.
82. I have a really high alcohol tolerance.
83. I like to say "niner" instead of just saying nine.
84. I think I turned out OK despite my lousy childhood.
85. I think the most attractive feature on a woman is a brain, although a nice body doesn't hurt.
86. I am a good typist.
87. I could never solve Rubik's Cube.
88. My favorite color is red.
89. When I was 16, I got into a car accident within 2 weeks of getting my license.
90. The dentist I used to go to sucked. Her name is Dr. Susan Bracker and she sucks.
91. I took Viagra once and really liked it.
92. I lost my virginity on December 17, 1988. I remember this because it was my sister's birthday.
93. I have pictures of jazz musicians on the wall in my office, but I don't own any jazz music.
94. My favorite sports teams are the New York Yankees, the Buffalo Bills, the Buffalo Sabres and the Syracuse University Orange.
95. I think that Jim Rome is the best sports talk show host ever.
96. A lesbian once punched me in the face and gave me a black eye because I slept with her ex-girlfriend. I didn't hit her back.
97. I was a bartender for 3 years.
98. I threw up at King's Island in Cincinnati after going on the teacup ride because my cousin made it spin too fast.
99. I graduated from St. Bonaventure University.
100. I like believing in the idea that I have a soulmate somewhere out there.
Well, that's it. If anyone would like more information, please don't hesitate to contact me. Until then, I'm just going to head back out to the corner apartment and watch my really big TV on my cream-colored leather sectional couch.
As always...
R
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