summatiiiiiime

Live from NKOTB!

Party like it's 1990!

In December 1990, I was a month shy of ten years old. I had just watched the first few episodes of a brand new show called "90210," on which Dylan was and alcoholic, and was undeniably the man. The Patriots were washed up and floundering behind a terrible QB, tight-rolling was awesome, Mario Lopez wasn't famous, and I was days away from seeing my first concert ever - New Kids on the Block at the Worcester Centrum.

Fast forward to September 2008. I am 4 months shy of 27 years old. I have just watched the first few episodes of a new show called "90210," on which Dylan has been mentioned only once, but is still the man for knocking up Kelly during the show's hiatus, and is presumably still an alcoholic. The Patriots are washed up and floundering behind a terrible QB, tight-rolling is STILL awesome, Mario Lopez isn't famous anymore, and I'm days away from seeing my second NKOTB concert ever, this time at the TD BankNorth Boston Garden.

Jackpot.

This sudden resurgence of early 90's radness has me rollerblading down Memory Lane... at that time in 1990, Rick the Model Martel had just sprayed "Arrogance" in Jake the Snake's eyes, blinding him for weeks (though he bravely continued to wrestle with eye patches taped to his face). East and West Germany had just reunited, the internet was in its beginning stages, and the Red Sox had been swept out of the playoffs by Oakland for the second time in 3 years, extending their championship drought to 72 years. To this day, Dana Kiecker remains one of my favorite names to hear Chris Lutkevich prounonce. And probably most importantly, James Buster Douglas gave America hope for a longshot union between me and Jamie Luner, after he beat Mike Tyson as a 42/1 underdog.

So what have we learned from all this? Almost certainly nothing. But it can be said that no matter how hard you try, you always end up in the same place. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, and sometimes it's not the same place. And If I'm the only one in full 90's gear on Sunday night, may Maurice Starr strike me dead.

Snap your bracelet around that one.*

*Also considered for closing lines: "Spray your Aqua-net around that one," and "Just The Ten of Us remains the greatest sitcom of our time."

Giddy up. (I'm....comaaaan...out.)

In an effort to start contributing more to this space, I've decided to add some much-needed [ed. note: friggin a' right] structure to this blog, effective immediately. In my desperate, 9 month search for a job, I've seriously lost sight of the fact that, no matter what I do, I'm always going to be an artist. Performing live, messing around with Photoshop, writing freestyle - these are the things that get me going. And until now, I've allowed myself to consider that artistic part of me as holding me back from getting a real job, hence I have repressed that side of me. Well NO MORE! There ya go, artistic side, [waving hands in the air, shaking head tauntingly like "oooh scary."] YOU WIN. Consider yourself embraced. Timmons would have an easier time pretending he wasn't looking forward to St. Patrick's Day.

I am now allowing myself this outlet (and a few others) to conduct my buffoonery, clear my head, find some inspiration in life, and finally make some magic happen. Giddy Up. That's what you say when you get back on the horse.

SO, blog structure from now on is as follows. The two of you reading this, take note. You can expect frequent if not daily updates on the following subjects, on the following days.

Monday: Ridiculousness
Tuesday: Sports
Wednesday: (f)Unemployment
Thursday: Music
Weekend: Wild Card

And if I think of another subject that deserves its own day, you bet your bottom dollar I'll add it to the rotation, toot sweet! Get pumped. I'm comin out, I want the world to know...

Since there's no 24 in sight...

...here's the real countdown:

Also, The Shield begins airing its final season in a few weeks. If you've never seen it, there are reruns on FX every now and then. It is one of the most continously gripping television experiences I have ever had. To call it "edgy" would be cliched and understated. It's completely insane. Try it, trust me.

Sadly, I think it's safe to say (for me anyway) that our old friend Jack Bauer has taken a back seat to two of the best dramas on television mentioned above. I'm predicting we don't see Jack again until January 2010. We had a good run buddy. Don't worry, the more time you take off, the easier it'll be to forget about last season's train wreck. Everyone gets drunk sometimes and makes some bad decisions. Yours just happened to be allowing your writers to blow up Los Angeles with a nuclear bomb, and subsequently have zero reaction from the city's inhabitants. No, no no. It's cool, really. Its a stretch, but it's cool. We're not going anywhere. You'll be back someday, and when you are, we'll attempt to set up a perimeter - and fail miserably - allowing a global terrorist to run free on the streets of los angeles again, just like old times. Heck, maybe we'll even shoot some guys while we're trying to catch him, who knows?




DAMMIT!

Just some random Boston pics

fOARth of July Weekend in Chi-town!

I'm feelin kinda funky, kinda fine, and kinda patriotic...

Happy Birthday USA!!! Here's the view from our hotel room. We're in Chicago to attend the wedding of one my friends from ASU, who is marrying one of the members of the awesomely incredible band OAR. I have no idea how this happened. Actually, I do. Story in the writeup, next week when I get back. Anyway I'll be posting throughout the weekend, so if you're not at one of a million billion BBQ's, feel free to stop by. We'll celebrate America and love cyber-ly.

So, somehow she [Jane and Coke] negotiates a 5am checkin for the PDiddy suite with a view of the river and the downtown skyline and allegedly tonight's fireworks display. And we Pricelined it. Unbelievable. I swear to god if 3 months salary for me wasn't $600 and drink tickets...

Sweet 17.

Certified!!! As I sit here remembering all the amazing things that went on last night, one moment sticks out. Before the celebration, before the riots, before the blowout, even before the opening tip, something very cool happened. 2 of my buddies picked up the Mrs. and I in Wakefield and we all headed to Sullivan Sq. to grab the T right before gametime. I didn't care where we went or what we did, I just knew I wanted to be as close to the Garden as possible, hopefully with a beer in my hand. And as we sped down 93 at around 830pm, just as the sun was setting, some clouds cleared up ahead and a HUGE golden moon hung directly above our path. I commented that it looked auspiciously like the ball that sits atop the NBA Championship trophy. So anyone driving through Boston at that moment on rte. 93 would have seen this: The Zakim bridge and Boston Garden glowing from top to bottom with green lights, a row of green traffic lights signaling things were dandy in the tunnel, the giant NBA trophy statue resting comfortably on the overpass, and a huge, full, gold moon flying just above it. Tell me that doesn’t make you feel good about your chances that evening.

As far as championship viewing experiences in my lifetime go, this one might be at the top. We barreled down a traffic-less 93 and hopped on the Orange line. A few moments later, we jumped off @ North Station just feet beneath the parquet floor and hit the streets - still without destination. My sister had been sent ahead to find a bar without a line. We failed to predict that Canal St. would look a whole lot like Bourbon St. Blocked off by police barricades, with thousands of people in the streets, every bar had a line that was so long it bled into the line for the bar next to it, to the point where it was just a complete sea of people dancing and cheering and bleeding kelly green. This felt good.


As you can see, we could barely see the game through a window, much less gain access to any of these establishments. Determined and inspired, we pressed on. When we arrived at the Point - the beginning of the miles and miles of Faneuil Hall bars, we were encouraged by the lack of a line out front. Having spent St. patty's Day 2007 playing flip cup for 12 hours with 50 friends at said bar, I liked - nay loved -the idea. Imagine my dismay when we talked to the bouncer and, not only were they not letting people in, but they had dispersed the line 20 minutes ago that had wrapped around the side of the building, because, let’s face it, anyone in the bar already wasn't going to be leaving any time soon. Onward.

As bar after bar boasted lines wrapped around each building, all increasing in size as the minutes rolled on, we were moments away from grabbing a case of beer and heading back to a small North End apartment where there'd at least be HD... An incoming call to my sister's cell phone told us that Ned Devine's - a swanky(as far as Beantown goes), cavernous, upscale Irish pub that generally rests on the pricier side - was without a line...

Let's win this thing.

We sprinted. And when I say sprinted, I mean we covered more ground as a group that included 2 chicks and a dude in sandals with a Poland Springs bottle and a laptop charger weighing down his cargo shorts than previously considered possible. This was our night.

Moments later, after speeding past bar after bar with lines that had couldn’t even be considered lines anymore (they were now crowds) and nearly knocking over numerous pedestrians, all with my shorts hanging off my ass thanks to the previously mentioned laptop charger I had in my cargo pockets for an as-yet-unknown reason, we walked into the bar as the C's scored their first 2 of what would become an unconscionable number of points by the end of the night.

AWESOME scene inside Ned's. Hopping, excited crowd - but not too crowded - just enough room for the 7 of us to comfortably carve out an area, with a waitress walking up to us every 20 minutes. Things felt good. Things felt very good. The energy was PERFECT. It just felt right. And as the game unfolded, we got happier and rowdier and high-5ier and everything snowballed into an incredible viewing experience. The Award for Biggest "No F'ing Way!" Crowd Explosion of the Night from an already-raucus crowd goes to Kevin Garnett and his standing 2-pointer from the paint that looks like a shot you could only pull off in a pool with a plastic hoop and a nerf ball and your friend would get yelled at by an adult because that kind of defense could be considered horseplay. Place exploded when that happened. Still, regardless of the ever-increasing lead, given the comebacks in this series to that point, and our penchant for heartbreak in Boston that I would have completely forgotten about were it not for a Mr. David Tyree – p.s. I still hate you - I don't think we felt safe until about 10 minutes to go. Once Posey hit his 3, we were done kidding ourselves. This Lakers team couldn’t compete with us. Not tonight, not at home, not with that crowd, not with this team, not a chance.

We ordered a bottle of champagne. It was time. We hid the bottle and the 6 champagne glasses and one wine glass. "Hehe, guess we don’t have a lot of champagne glasses!" bubbled the arguably efficient waitress with Peace sign earrings who was probably high. Her only real blunder was charging my sister for a round of beers on her credit card, then leaving it on a ledge a good 10 feet from us. Crisis was averted however, as the card was found and all was forgiven. Ignoring bar policy, we convinced her not to pop it so that we could open it as the final buzzer sounded –the way God intended champagne to be opened. 3…2…1…Bedlam. When the confetti hit the air, we popped the cork, continued drinking ourselves silly, hugged each other, high-5'd a ton of strangers, and bled out onto the streets. We were heading to ground zero - the giant NBA trophy statue outside the Boston Garden- and nothing could stop us. Except the incredibly well-organized Boston Police force in riot gear, many of whom were on horseback.

We got creative with our navigation and ended up on Canal St. where thousands had poured out onto the streets. Some people smashed some windows and climbed on the outdoor construction edifices that looked dangerously close to collapsing, and there were a few times where we had to cover the girls’ heads and run for safety, but all in all – from what we could tell, it was relatively tame, and indeed one of the best championship celebrations of this guy's young life. Thank goodness this decade of Boston sports dominance coincides with the Information Age. Without all the videos and digital pics to prove it, our kids would never believe the stories.

We won, we popped, we rioted. What a night.

Last Call: For a few more hilarious video examples of how completely insane Kevin garnett is, head here.

Boop...beep...boop...beep...

It's coming...

This year's MathiSLAM features a mixed doubles bracket-style beer pong tourney. Each team will consist of one guy and one girl, and the winners will receive some sort of cash pride and a whole boatload of pride.



Uniforms are STRONGLY encouraged. Awards for best team uniforms will be handed out mid-tourney. Categories: Best Team Name; Most Over the Top Unis; and the "Too Soon?" Award for Most OffensiveRegistration starts NOW and goes right up until round 1.

Get there around 11, as the first balls will be thrown at 1:00pm sharp.

$20 per team entry fee covers all you can drink and all you can eat all day and night... Contact myself or Kate for more details.


Let's slam this thing.

Let's Win This Thing... next year

[ed. note: this might sound all sportsy and professional and boobjokeless - its a writing sample for a job I'm applying to. so there ya go.]



Sunday, June 8, 2008
Danvers, MA
Billerica – 12, St. John’s Prep – 9

Three minutes. That’s all it took today for Billerica’s defense to effectively secure a win at Cronin Field, where the St. John’s Prep Eagles had previously stood unbeaten in 2008. Heading into the game’s final frame, trailing by 5, The Prep’s senior-heavy squad desperately needed a change in the momentum that had so mercilessly favored the opposition all afternoon. When a yellow hanky hit the ground in the form of a 3-minute, locked-in illegal stick penalty against Billerica, the Eagles saw their chance. But as the undermanned green-and-black five pressured relentlessly, shot after shot went, high, wide, dirt, helmet – literally anywhere but net. The Prep’s best six shooters – 5 of whom should enjoy serious time within the college ranks next fall – were held scoreless. Billerica’s defense, as suffocating as the 96 degree field temp, killed the penalty and immediately went on the offensive, firing the ball upfield to an uncovered attackman, dumping in their 12th goal of the afternoon as soon as their tenth man hit the field. The breakaway, backbreaking shot slapped a big “Maybe Next Year” on the contest with 1:17 remaining on the weathered Cronin Field scoreboard, and sent a promising Prep team home early this year.
The Billerica boys rest comfortably tonight, awaiting next week’s state championship game against the winner of Duxbury and Xaverian. Fitting, considering the former two are the only teams in the land to have beaten 2nd-ranked Prep this season, until today.

The fact that I didn't write this about Vaquero's in Tempe, AZ remains one of the great injustices this heart will ever know.

Did someone say Bickford's remix?