My extremely intensive and extensive review of Indiana Jones 4

Shia Lebouf is kinda hot in a leather jacket. But not 10-dollars-for-a-ticket hot.


Grade: F--

Pissing In The Woods

“I was almost shot once.”

Sometimes I find myself saying this phrase aloud at times when I find the current conversation boring. Most of the time the lifeless communal “dialog” is due to only one person. Everyone knows this type of person. This is the friend that everyone has; the person who absorbs conversations so that it wraps completely around them. It’s the friend that gushes about every meaningless detail of his or her existence. You are only friends with the person because you have no reason to truly hate them. They just bore you. They’ll trail on about the new socks they found at the Gap. They’ll deliver manifestos about how much they love bagels. They’ll present an oral thesis on how good their gas mileage is. The other people that might be “engaged” in this conversation are either too bored or not creative enough to protest the wasted words. They are just awake enough to feign interest.

When I utter these five words, a ripple effect quickly spreads throughout the room. It’s as if every person has just received his or her first breath of air while simultaneously receiving an electric shock. These brightening expressions give me a brief feeling of self-satisfaction. Even more so, I always find the expression from the brainless babbler supremely arousing. Call it petty, but I believe the energy-sucking prattler should be put in his or her place. I see it as a public service. I’m not saying that I’m a terribly interesting person. However, I do know what is and isn’t interesting. I know this story is supremely interesting for one simple reason: it is, unabashedly, true.

It is next impossible to tell this story without first explaining some my family dynamics. My mother is an incredibly successful businesswoman. She is fantastically smart, sharply organized, and shrewdly ambitious. What is so off-kilter is that, thanks to these attributes, she has overcome one major flaw. My mother has a secret, but powerful handicap: she is the world’s worst decision-maker.

“Heather, don’t you think it would be a fun idea to visit Ocean City next month?”

“You mean during Christmas? Mom, you want to spend Christmas at a summer resort?”

“Well, yes indeedy! I think it would be fun! There will be plenty of stuff to do!”

“But mom, everything there is closed in the winter.”

“DON’T ARGUE WITH ME YOUNG LADY!”

Every year we would leave early due to mind-boggling boredom.

She repeated this mistake for several years, until finally her mind was set straight when she got into a car accident (in my car) and the local police officer treated her like a bowl of seagull shit. I have inherited a diminished version of this flaw. Instead of trips to the beach, my mistakes involve trips to the grocery store. About once a year I will buy soy-based mayonnaise and try to convince myself it will taste just like the real thing. Someday, hopefully, I will learn that I can’t outwit my taste buds.

One of the pinnacles of my mother’s lack of decision-making prowess was reached on a brisk August night. We were driving home from our family’s timeshare on Bryce Mountain in the Shenandoah Valley. My mother as looking at the map, and she noticed that we were very close to the location of her company’s team building event that was to be held the following week. It was to be held in wooded plot of land in the middle of Fredericksburg; a town whose human population is very closely rivaled by its cattle population. So my mother decided that the best thing to do at 10 o’clock at night was to drive into the uncharted territory of Nowheresville, USA.

We got off the highway and ended up on an unlit back-country road whose asphalt paving was the only sign that it had been visited in the past fifty years. After twenty miles or so, my mother, brother, and I were all hit by the exact same urge at the exact same time. We all had to, at that very moment, take the biggest leaks of our lives. It was as if the urine fairy gave us all a tap at the same time with her three yellow wands. My mother pulled off on to a tiny dirt road, and she and my brother shot off into the dark woods. I, however, was way more timid, and decided I would try to hold it until we got back to civilization. My mother, with her aforementioned flaw, came to a different conclusion.

“Get your ass out of the car,” she exclaimed while zipping up her trousers.

“It may be a helluva long time before you get to piss again, so get out and pop a squat!”

“But moooooom, we have no idea where we are. I could be pissing in some guy’s rose garden for all I know. I can’t see my hand in front of my face!” My logic seemed lost on her.

“Get out of the goddamned car right now! If it’s too dark for you, just piss somewhere in the light of the headlights.”

Most mothers seem to have no concept of privacy when it comes to their children. My mother is not exempt from this. When we are shopping for clothes, she opens the door to my dressing room without knocking, and often leaves the door wide-open.

“I’m not pissing in front of you and Chris! Fine, I’ll just find a spot in those things that look like bushes.”

I walked deeper into the woods to where I could not be heard or seen by my mother. As I walked through the brush I debated whether or not I should fake taking a leak and hold it until we reached a fast food restaurant.

What happened in the next few seconds totally negated any decision that I was about to make.

As I reached for my belt buckle, I heard a very loud pop. I dismissed it immediately as someone’s tire blowing out in the distance. But then I heard it again. And again. And again, again, again. Then I felt a sharp gust of wind and heard a sound that can only be described as a ptwang. I heard the ptwang sound again, and a leaf just above my head exploded. I realized that someone was firing bullets at me.

I crouched to the ground and ran as fast as I could (not very fast when you are crouching). As I scuffled over the car, my mother rolled down the window, and asked (in a very matter-of-factly tone) “Heather, are you being shot at?”

“FUCKING YES I AM, FUCK, SHIT, AHHHHHHHHHH!”

And then my mother proceeded to drive off. Without me.

I was running at full speed now. I caught up to the car and banged wildly on the windows. My mother slowed the car down, but did not come to a full stop. I tried to open the door. It. Was. Locked. My mother took a moment or two to unlock the door. I half-expected the handle to come off in my hand. Finally, the door was open and I dove into the car.

“DRIVE WOMAN! DRIVE!” And we took off into the night.

My mother laughed the whole way home.

How to Throw a Kick-Ass Make-up Bachelorette Party

A good bachelorette party requires little more than dancing, alcohol, good friends, and just a hint of kinkiness. But for "make-up" bachelorette parties, a little extra spice is required. Not many have heard of make-up bachelorette parties, probably because not many people have participated in one. A make-up bachelorette party, as opposed to its more widely accepted counterpart, takes place after the wedding, either because the original party sucked or didn't take place. Therefore, the now married bride requires a little extra pick-me-up.

My friend Holly's initial bachelorette party took place on a weekend when almost everyone was out of town. Her turnout was so low that she had to combine her party with her soon-to-be husband's bachelor party. They went to dinner at the Melting Pot, a restaurant where you pay through the nose to cook your own food. Afterwards they went to a lame bar or two, got tired, and went home early. She's a good friend, and she's in a good marriage where no jealousy issues are involved, so I knew throwing a make-up bachelorette party was in order. The event occurred this past Saturday, and with this experience I've compiled a list of must-haves for the ultimate make-up bachelorette party.

1) Human excrement. Try to find a steaming pile about the size of a small mountain outside one of D.C.'s finer nightclubs. Bonus points if you save one of your intoxicated friends from slipping in it.
2) Enough alcohol to kill a bison. Split between six small women, of course.
3) Lots of public sex. Don't know where to find this? I suggest some of D.C.'s "higher-end" (pun intended) clubs, mostly because at these clubs, you will find that many of the women are...
4) Prostitutes. Preferably a spectrum of them, from the high-class call girl to the crack-smoking junkie whore. Some of the lower end ones could even qualify for...
5) World's Ugliest Transvestite. Make sure some of your very drunk friends dance with this shemale, not knowing she is sporting a raging hard-on. Also, make sure the transvestite's dancing style resembles the motions of a dummy in a slow-motion crash test video.
6) Pizza.

Budapest

About four months ago, my mother offered to take me on one of her business trips. A PR firm was holding its annual nutrition-centered conference in Budapest in mid-February, and she offered to let me tag along as sort of a late Christmas/early birthday present. Surprisingly, it took a bit of convincing to get me to come. I don't know why I was so apprehensive at the time. It might have been because the most recent trip I had taken with my mother had not turned out quite as well as I had expected. It also might have been because I, like so many of my contemporaries, had very little knowledge of Budapest.

Around Christmas time, something in my brain snapped. I remember thinking "What am I thinking? It's a FREE trip to a European city for christsake!"

I left a voicemail for my mom early one morning saying I would be happy to join. I was biting my nails the rest of the day, hoping to God that it wasn’t too late. I got a call from her later that day and she told she was trying to secure a ticket for me. Ironically enough, I was in a Barnes and Noble at the time waiting in line to purchase a travel book on Budapest. As luck would have it, she was able to cash in her frequent flyer miles for my ticket, and the PR firm allowed the invitees to bring guests for a small fee. So my hotel and plane ticket were practically free. When I returned home from Barnes and Noble that night I read the book nearly cover to cover.

After reading the guidebook, I decided to set some goals for this trip. I knew that it would be a long time before I would be able to go on a vacation like this again. This trip had potential for some intense isolation and self-discovery, so the goals I made were built around that. I am happy to say that I was able to fulfill most of my goals. They were as follows:

Goal # 1) Take night photographs- Check.

I was able to borrow a tripod so I could test out some night photography.

This was our hotel, Four Seasons Gresham Palace. This hotel was the Four Seasons of Four Seasons.

This is Szechenyi Chained Bridge. It was the first permanent bridge built across the Danube in Budapest.

Detail of the bridge.

This is the Royal Palace in the Castle District. It houses the National Gallery.

This is a statue of Deak Ferencz, an important Hungarian statesman.

Goal # 2) Visit a Turkish bath- Check.

This is the Szechenyi bathing complex, which houses one of Budapest’s biggest outdoor baths. The word “furdo” means spa in Hungarian. It also has indoor baths, saunas, and steam rooms. It was a gorgeous complex. It was very opulently decorated, like a palace. Here is some of the detail of the lobby:

Goal # 3) Meet new people-Check.

The smart-looking lady is Lisa and the handsome devil to her right is Rob. We met at a lecture about Hungarian food one the first day of the conference. Rob and Lisa were traveling with Rob’s mom. I spent a lot of time with these folks. Lisa was a sweet and enthusiastic individual, and Rob was funny and affable. Lisa and I shared an affinity for all things hippy-like, and Rob and I shared an affinity for a fine glass of scotch. Since both of these of these folks are from California, they both…

…love drinking wine. We had a great time together.

I also had the pleasure of meeting Sandra. She is probably the most delightfully entertaining and interesting person I’ve met in quite awhile. She was traveling with her cousin Keisha, who was also attending the conference.

Goal # 4) Try new foods and eat a lot -

That’s a big check.

Goal # 5) Take at least two pictures that I am very happy with- Check.

Goal # 6) Buy Absinthe- Check.

I bought two small bottles of Pere Kermann's brand. I bought one for me and one for my brother.

Goal # 7) Try palinka.- Check.

I tried some in the hotel bar. Unfortunately, it was too dark to take any pictures. The drink was very similar to grappa, and had the propensity to be just as disgusting.

Goal # 8) Have a one-night stand.

I’ve never had one before, and, to sound ever-so cliché, I’m not getting any younger, therefore, time is running out. Having a no-strings-attached fornication session in a beautiful foreign country with a hot guy who I would never see again seemed like the way to do it. I don’t have pictorial evidence of this, not only because I’m a lady and would never post such things, but also because it didn’t happen. All the good-looking men I saw on this trip were either taken, gay, didn’t speak a word of English, or just didn’t seem interested. So that’s a big UNCHECK.

Accomplishing seven out of the eight goals was awesome. I knew goal # 8 was pretty far-fetched anyway, and I just sort of threw it in half-jokingly. The other seven goals were necessary for a well-rounded cultural experience.

In conclusion, this trip will be remembered as one of the most luxurious and breathtakingly beautiful experiences of my life. I guess what I’ve learned from this voyage is to never, under any circumstances, turn down a free trip to a European city.

If you would like to see more photos from my trip, please visit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/68109917@N00/sets/72157603956509052/show/

With Sincere Regards

Sadly, Heath Ledger, who starred in two of the diddleworthy movies I mentioned in my last post, has passed.

I must say that I am more than a little shocked. The natural things that happen to us seem so unnatural, especially when someone so young is ripped away. It's almost as if, and bear with me on this one, the events that were supposed to happen in a parallel universe got shuffled up and accidentally happened in ours. In this other universe, the talented people of our generation are living long and fruitful lives that almost too slowly fade into the night, whilst in our universe they are extinguished when their light is at its brightest.

It's possible that everyone has a parallel self that is in some way immortal. I take a slight comfort in this theory. Some might call these everliving versions of ourselves merely their twin in different situation. I like to think of them as our souls.

RIP Mr. Ledger.

Diddlefest '08

A few years ago some female friends and myself made plans to go see the movie "Troy" despite it receiving horrid reviews. We made these plans because A) this movie had several hot men in it and B) these hot men would be doing several hot things, i.e. wearing gladiator-esque outfits, wrestling each other, etcetera.

I jokingly referred to the event as "Diddlefest '04" because I knew that many of us would feel the urge to whip out our lady bits and go to town right there in the theatre. This phrase has now been coined for any movie that A) has two or more famously hot young men and B) has these men doing hot things, possibly together. Since this initial event, several movies have fit this category. Here are some examples by year:

2004-Troy, as mentioned above
2005-Brokeback Mountain, I thought about bringing plastic sheets to this one
2006- This was a shitty year for diddleworthy movies, and a shitty year for movies in general. Bear in mind, however, that I have not seen "The Departed".
2007-300

And my prediction for Diddlefest '08 is......

*opens envelope*

THE DARK KNIGHT!

Please let me know if I've missed any movies in the years mentioned above. I know there have been several diddleworthy movies prior to or around 2004. Here are a few that are worth mentioning:

Fight Club (1999)
Velvet Goldmine (1998)
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)- don't ask

*Edit*- I would like to add that in order for a movie to be diddleworthy, the famously hot men have to look famously hot within that movie. Case in point:

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)- This does not qualify as diddleworthy, despite it starring two very hot men: Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Torro. This is because Benicio Del Torro looks more bloated than a balloon at a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and Johnny Depp looks like, well, like Hunter S. Thompson.

My New Boyfriend

I met him a few months ago. My officemate introduced me to him at an Indian restaurant and it was love at first sight.

I love everything about him. He’s rich, he’s smooth, he’s cultured, he smells good, and, most importantly, he satisfies me, if you know what I mean. He is also vegetarian, which is a nice touch.

His name is Malai Kofta, and he is a South-Asian flavor invader. Here is a picture of him.

Doesn’t he look delicious?

In case you haven’t caught on, Malai Kofta is not a person, it is an Indian dish. I’ve gone back to being vegetarian again, and thanks to tasty dishes like this, I may stay that way.

This is my holiday card

You click now!

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=9626862768

Parts

Sometimes when I’m alone I like to think about the past. I think about people who have entered and exited my life. I think about the times when I was at my happiest. I was a happy child. I was very non-judgmental. I tried to find the fun in every situation. I found that adults were very drawn to me. I started talking at a very young age, so I was easy to communicate with. I would talk to practically anyone.

I remember having many conversations with my Uncle Eddie when I was a child. I spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house in those days, and Uncle Eddie still lived with them. He had a collection of spare radio parts which I found fascinating. I would play with the moving parts and buttons and he would explain what each part did.

He also had a collection of vinyl records and a very old turntable. He would let me take his most precious records out of their sleeves and mount them on to the table, with only the slightest bit of assistance when putting the needle down.

I looked forward to spending time with Uncle Eddie nearly every week. He always had a new gadget to show me, or a new record to test out. At the age of six I felt like Uncle Eddie was my closest friend.

I never wondered much about my Uncle Eddie’s life outside of the radios and the records. I never wonder why he still lived with his parents. I never wondered why my Nana made him sleep with his bedroom door open. I never wondered why I never saw him leave the house, why he never had any friends over, or why he didn’t have a job. At least, I didn’t start to wonder until a few years later.

My visits to my grandparents’ house became more and more infrequent over the years. When I was about 9-years-old I found out that Uncle Eddie was the oldest of all my dad’s siblings. It got me thinking about why a man older than my dad would still live with his parents.

Children always understand more than their parents give them credit for. They hear whispers and under the table conversations. Before they can add, the can put together bits of a conversation to come to conclusions that are not that far from the truth. By the time I was 13-years-old I had finally solved the equation.

Uncle Eddie was a diagnosed schizophrenic. He manifested when he was about 20, and he started to self-medicate. He became addicted to a variety of drugs, which only exacerbated his illness. Consequently, he was never able to hold down a job or a place to live. He stopped taking the drugs, but he never gave up chain smoking. I remember hearing loud coughs in the middle of the night, but I never saw him smoke.

As I became older I found myself wanting to spend less and less time at my grandparents’ house. After I became fully aware of my Uncle Eddie’s past, the image of his life very became very saddening. I became scared that my parents or I could one day end up in the same situation. I didn’t want to think about it.

I avoided conversations with him. He would try to show me his latest radio kit or vintage record, but I would usually just brush him off. I could tell that this would affect him. His brow would crinkle in disappointment and he would shy away. As much as I was depressed by his lifestyle, I was even more depressed and sickened by my own behavior.

At the age of 15 I had a bit of a falling out with my father and his side of the family. I didn’t see Uncle Eddie again until my grandmother was on her deathbed.

When my grandparents died I became worried about who would take care of Uncle Eddie. My aunt told me that all of my grandparents’ assets were liquidated into a fund for Uncle Eddie. My aunt and uncles set him up in an adult community. My great aunt, who suffered a similar affliction, spent a lot of time in a similar community, and I got the impression that it enriched her life.

After hearing this I felt a bit better about my Uncle Eddie’s situation. He would be out of the house; he might make new friends. The fund that was set up for him was not sizeable, but it would be enough to take care of his food, lodging, car and healthcare.

I sort of forgot about him through the rest of college.

The winter after I graduated my aunt invited my mom, brother and I to a holiday dinner. We decided that it would be nice to see everyone.

I was surprised to see Uncle Eddie there. He had gained a lot of weight, his hair was disheveled and his shirt was not buttoned properly. He had a blank, bordering on melancholy, look on his face. Schizophrenia is a degenerative disease, and he had slipped a little further down the slope. At first I felt the same stab of sadness that punctured me when I was thirteen. But then my eye wondered to the woman that was sitting next to him. I had never seen her before. She was wearing a similar façade. I asked my aunt who the woman was. She turned out to be my Uncle Eddie’s new girlfriend.

My mom had been divorced from my dad for nearly seven years at that point, and she had yet to secure a significant other. I feeling began to well up within me. I looked at my Uncle Eddie with joy.

We engaged in some very small talk, mostly about NPR and smoking. He told me that he was trying to quit again. He said he hadn’t attempted to quit again since about 17 years earlier. I would have been about 6-years-old.

After the meal we exchanged a few presents. My aunt always loved to buy me clothes, and she is the one person that knows my taste. The rest of my family gave us checks. My last gift was the most unexpected. Before I got up to get dessert, my Uncle Eddie walked over to me and handed me a small package.

“I remember how you used to say you loved watching movies with your dad,” he said.

I opened the package and inside was a Blockbuster coupon for one free rental.

I stared at the card for a moment. I was very silent for a few moments, which may have come across as disappointment. He gave the same crinkled eyebrow look and began to shy away. I practically screamed thank you at him before he turned away. In those moments of silence I was trying to fight back a waterfall of tears. The emotion caught up with me and became lodged in my throat. When he began to shy away some of that emotion came out.

The rest of the night I had to fight from breaking into tears. I kept thinking about his condition, his fixed income and my cold disposition. He fought through all that to buy me something that linked to a conversation I shared with him as a child. That small blue card was the best Christmas present I have ever received.

I still have it with me to this day. I keep it to remind myself not to judge too harshly. I keep it as a reminder of true kindness.

I Don't Normally Post Internet Quiz Results...

But this one shows how fucking awesome I am:


See What You're Made Of - Visit The Official Site

Watching

The Ravages of Time

It's around that time of year again. It's very close to my birthday. I usually get depressed around this time, and recently I found some pictures that did not help my mood. These pictures made me realize that time does no one any favors.

I was surfing Yahoo News and I came upon this picture of Jim Carrey and Jenny McCarthy:












They say time ravages the face, but I think in this case time replaced Carrey's face with a catcher's mitt.

A couple of days ago I watched the movie "With Honors," which stars Brendan Fraser. After the movie I looked Fraser up on Wikipedia and came across this picture:
























It looks like Fraser traded his hair for an extra chromosome.

Utica Wedding

This weekend I went to my friends' wedding in Utica, New York. I was surprised by how nice the town was. It was surrounded by rolling fields of green, and the town itself had a lot of character. There were not one, but two record shops within walking distance.

It was colder than usual, and I had forgot to bring a jacket, so my friends and I stopped by the Salvation Army. I bought two awesome corduroy blazers, one of them being bright red, which went well with my shiny purple nails.

It made me realize that most of my favorite pieces of clothing were bought in thrift stores. I find that if I shop at thrift stores, I'm more likely to wear something more interesting and risky. If people question my fashion sense, I can always use the thrift store defense, implying that it's better to buy something that's cheap and audacious rather than something expensive and plain.

The wedding was tons of fun. I got to spend a lot of time with good friends, and I got to catch up with some old ones.

You can view a slideshow of photos I took at the wedding here.

I decided to hire a cat sitter for this trip, being that I found it too stressful on myself and my cat to load him up in the car every time. When I got home after the wedding, I found a note on my door that stated something akin to:

“Your cat is fine…..so cute….blah blah still have your key….blah blah stop by later….blah blah I BORROWED YOUR ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT SEASON TWO DVD.”

The emphasis in this statement was added by me.

Some of you might be familiar with this ancient Chinese proverb: “Don’t fuck with another man’s car.”

Some of you may be less familiar with the female equivalent of this proverb, which is: “Don’t fuck with a single woman-who-doesn’t-have-cable-tv’s DVD collection.”

I tried not to get too miffed. After all, she did tell me she borrowed it, despite not asking for real permission. Besides, it was kinda like someone borrowing my bible. Yes, they took it without asking for permission, but it will help convert her to the awesomeness that is the Arrested Development series.

Another Expulsion Article

This one I wrote when Patrick Ramsey was moved from starting to backup quarter back for the Redskins. For those of you don't know, Patrick Ramsey looks like he's twelve years old. This is a point/counterpoint.


No One Takes Me Seriously Anymore, Not Even Coach
by Patrick Ramsey

I can’t stand this anymore. Everyone treats me like a stupid little kid. I keep getting pushed around. I’m constantly bullied on the field, and my offensive doesn’t want to cover me. They think it’s “cute” when I get sacked three times in a row. They laugh so hard they don’t care that we lose to the freaking Cardinals because they got four safeties off us. What does a guy gotta do to get some respect?

Whatever happened to team unity? When I was at Tulane I set over 20 passing records. I couldn’t have done that without the help of my offensive line, who didn’t think it was so funny to see me get knocked on my ass every week.

I try explaining my college success to my fellow ‘Skins, and they mostly laugh and say that I probably fit in well with the other “little college shits.” When I get upset they would offer me some milk and cookies. Lavar Arrington usually offers me a consoling shoulder, and he says it is because the other guys are jealous of my boyish good looks. If that doesn’t cheer me up, he offers to put me down for a nap.

Things briefly changed when Spurrier made me the starter in his last season as Redskins Head Coach. He seemed to be the only team player. But after he left and Coach Gibbs signed on, things went right back to crappy. Gibbs signed on stupid Mark Brunnell, who stupidly sucked throughout the first half of the 2004 season. I guess then Coach decided to give me a real chance and he put me back as the starter. At the time I thought, “Finally, some gosh darn recognition!” For a while, things seemed to only get better.

A month after putting me back in the game, Coach announced that I would be the starting quarterback of the 2005 season. This is where the poop hit the fan again.I guess the guys found it pretty funny that I was the head of the team again. They began bullying moreso than they had ever done before. Every time I get sacked now, Portis looks at me with a fake frown and says “Aww what’s wrong? Are you gonna cry now little girl?” I find this question rather obtuse considering that I’m usually not crying out of pain, but to help reject the cleat spikes that are imbedded in my eyes sockets.

Then came the Bears game. The neck injury I suffered during this game was minor, but Coach saw it fit to take me out and make Mark Brunnell the starter. That Brunnell is such an f-ing a-hole. Out of all the jerks on the team, he is the meanest to me. He says that if I don’t call him “Big Master Daddy” every time he makes a completion, he’ll tell the monsters in my closet to eat my family. Every now and then I hear rumbling noises in my closet, but I swear it is just Santana Moss doing drills.

Well, Hi There, Little Boy! Are You Lost?
By A Teenage Girl

Well aren’t you just the most precious thing I ever saw! You are so cute and sweet I could just eat you up! Now, what is a little guy like you doing in a big, scary stadium like this? I’m here because it’s my little brother’s birthday and he is a big Santana Moss fan. Say, you are probably about my brother’s age. Once we find your parents we should arrange a play date! Oh, little boy, don’t cry. I’ll get you some candy, and then we will find your mommy and daddy. It may take awhile; do you have to go potty? No? You are fully trained right? Well aren’t you a big boy now! If I had any stickers I’d give you a big gold star. So how old are you sweetheart? Oh, you kidder, you couldn’t possibly be 26! You don’t look a day over 8. Gee, this stadium is big, don’t ya think? Well, that’s ok. You can come home with me! You can sleep on the edge of my bed, right next to my cat Mr. Noodles. Do you like kitty cats? Can you spell CAT? Really, oh my what a smart one you are! You are such a sweetie; I must show you to my friends! If you do some tricks for them, I’ll give you a whole shiny quarter. Wouldn’t you like that little guy? You could buy a trading card! Who is your favorite player? Mine is Mark Brunnell. You know, if you eat your vegetables, you could be big and strong like him when you grow up!

Photo Competition and Puerto Rico pictures

I recently entered a photo of mine in The New York Institute of Photography’s Photo Contest. The theme is “Your Hometown: Local Music.”

I took this photo of a bluegrass street band in Old Town Alexandria. If you like it, please vote for it by clicking on the photo below and then clicking on “Vote!”

I also finally uploaded my Puerto Rico pictures. You can view them here.

Ocean City, Maryland 2007

Earlier this month I visited my favorite place in the universe, Ocean City.

Some of you may scoff at this. I am well aware that Ocean City is over-commercialized and full of hicks. It's basically a low-class-beach-front Las Vegas, without the gambling, if you are in a hotel near the boardwalk, that is.

My family owns a house in Little Salisbury, the one residential area in the north part of city.

It's the best place on Earth.

















You can view the slide show here.

After I Ocean City my brother and I went to Puerto Rico with our mom and step-family. I will post the slide show of that later.

Chicago

Last weekend I went to Chicago with my family and I took several photos:

















You can view the slide show here.

Harry Potter 2007

Last night I went to the Harry Potter Release party at the Barnes and Noble in Fairfax. I took a whole bunch of pictures with my new camera:














Here is a slideshow.

The Most Important Purchase of My Life

Recently I made the most important purchase of my life. This seemingly small trinket has already affected my life to a degree that could not have previously fathomed. After I purchased it, I took it home and put it on my shelf and admired it from a distance, as one might admire a sunset or a Picasso in an exclusive art gallery.

This product has inspired me to travel to exotic places, to try new foods and to meet new people. It is my muse, my heart, my everything. It has shed light on my otherwise shadowy disposition. Its importance to me might not be unlike the pen to Hemingway, the bow to Vivaldi, the brush to Dali. It is the tool that will define my artistry, write my history, and sing my music.

Last week, I bought a six ounce stainless steel flask.

I bought it for this booze cruise that I went on with some coworkers last week. The cruise, which took us from Georgetown to Old Town Alexandria, was 45-minutes long and they only served beer and wine. Since I'm try to slim down, I only drink hard liqour, and therefore I needed way to smuggle some aboard. I went to the liqour, purchased this gem along with a bottle of Wild Turkey, and sailed into the sunset (figuratively; the boat sailed southeast).



I'm kidding. Well only half-kidding. I did indeed buy a flask for the booze cruise, but that wasn't my life-changing purchase. This was:


A Canon EOS D350 Digital Rebel XT SLR with an F-S 18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 lens. Unlike the flask, most of the things I mentioned in the first paragraph really do apply. Having a great camera will force me to try new things and go to new places.

Three things inspired me to buy this camera at this point in time:

1) After a six-year hiatus from photography, I finally had the money to buy it.
2) The price. Both the camera and the memory card were on sale.
3) I will be traveling to three different cities next month (Chicago, Ocean City, and San Juan).

There is also one other awesome product that has come into my life:








This, my friends, is a melodica. It sounds a bit like a small accordion, or a concertina. If you really want to know what it sounds like, it is featured in the song Champagne Supernova by Oasis.

I did not purchase this product. It belonged to my cousins, and they are letting me borrow it for an unknown amount of time. For the past year or so, I would play it sporadically, but now that it is in my possession, I play it nearly everyday. My goal is to learn a new song every week or so.

Once the battery on my new camera is charged, I plan to take 1000 pictures of my cat, make a cuteness collage, and post it here. Stay tuned.

My First Business Trip

My first business trip was to a print site just outside of Rochester, NY, in a town called Henrietta. I spent two horrid weeks there, then I went on to visit friends and family in the rest of the state. Since I didn't bring a camera with me, I had to borrow pictures from the Internet to illustrate my journey.




This is the town of Henrietta, NY:























I was stationed here:
























This is what I looked like during my time there, except with more work, and I was slightly more attractive:



















This was the one friend I met there:





















I also watched quite a bit of HBO in my hotel, and I fell in love with Flight of the Conchords:

















I plan to marry the one on the right, then cheat on the one on the right with the one on the left.

Eventually my project was finished, and I went to visit my friend Jay in Ithaca. This is Jay:























He painted his fingernails in honor of my visit.

And this is Ithaca (compared to Henrietta):




















This is my friend Jay's favorite band, The Verve:



















This was Jay's reaction when he found out that the band was getting back together:























I met some of Jay's friends:
















We climbed one of Ithaca's famous gorges:























Then I went to Syracuse to visit my family:
















And last but not least, at the airport, an insanely hot guy sat next to me on the shuttle bus:























Fin.