History has always fascinated me. History classes in school were full of wonder and excitement with stories telling of adventure, exploration, and inventiveness. At least I think they were, I was too busy dominating at pogs to worry about stupid things like school and friends and getting my scoliosis looked at. But thank God for Wikipedia. It got me caught up on everything history related so I'm good to go now knowledge-wise.
One history story in particular that I love is about a little known man named Christopher Columbus, aka Billy "Eagle-Eye" Simmons. (Wikipedia pg 13.) He and his band of traveling gypsies took a zodiac across the Atlantic and settled on a little town called Pizza Hut. (Wikipedia pg 17) Here they settled and it became the birthplace of Rock and Roll music and Guacamole. A few weeks later, Eagle-Eye changed his name to Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young and went on to become the best selling rock and roll artist in the history of the world. (Wikipedia pg 22)
Hold on, none of this sounds right, I'll check out Wikipedia and sort this mess out.
Okay, I'm back. That page has been deleted. The new page says the real story is that Christopher Columbus landed on the Bahamas Archipelago. The story goes that the indigenious people did not like ol Chris and were set to kill him dead. Being a learned man of learning (such as myself, post pogs) he was keenly aware that a solar eclipse was coming. He warned the people that if he was killed, he would steal their sun. A little bit later, the eclispe occured, exactly as he had predicted. The natives were fearful of this man who could steal suns, and were kind to him and the eventual Spanish settlers.
Now, I was thinking about that. Even today, in 2010, I have the weather channel, weather.com, CNN, foxnews, TMZ, IPOD applications, calculators, HBO, asian friends, and everything else a person could surround themselves with to be well informed. I could not with-in a decade guess the date of the next solar eclipse. So for those fellas back in 1492, that was A) extremely lucky and B) extremely smart and C) makes me feel extremely like an idiot.
I think about what I would have done if I found myself in that exact same situation, with my same current unawareness of meterological phenomenons. I'm pretty sure it would have gone a little something like this:
Native: You are white, we dont like you, and now you are gonna die.
Me: Well, that sucks, are you sure you really want to do that?
Native: Yes, absolutely sure. Its not like you are going to steal our sun or anything like that last guy. Keeping you alive makes no sense. You have a terrible haircut and your clothes went out of style in 1398. Yep, no you definitely have to die.
Me: Well, I wouldnt do that if I were you.
Native: Oh really, why is that.
Me: (Reaching my hand out and tugging lightly on his nose) Cause I..........got your nose!
Native: (Sees my thumb sticking out between my middle and index finger, but believes it is the tip of his nose) WHAT!?!? NO!?!? NOT MY NOSE!?!??! Oh god no, my nose is gone this is terrible, terrible news. Curse you, you stealer of noses.
Me: Oh you want your nose back. (pretend to hand to him then pull away) Oooppp bup bup bup. Its too bad you have to kill me, cause you'll probably never get your nose back now if you do.
Native: Okay okay, you can live, please mister, just give me back my nose. I wish to smell again.
Me: Fine, here take back your nose. But (turning to the now cowering crowd) that is a warning to all you who see this today, that if any of you lays a hand on me, my band of gypsies, or my zodiac, I can...and will... take from you your nose! And if you are already missing your nose...I will pull random things from behind your ear! Do not test me!
I'm thinking that would have worked out pretty well and I am 100% sure I would be regarded as their King for at least the rest of my life. Ol' solar-eclipse guessing Chris Columbus was never made king of anything. Some people just have no ambition.
The rest my friends, as they say, is History. And you can read all about it on Wikipedia.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Don't Mess With Vegas Protocol
Vegas. Its a get out of jail free kind of town. Do whatever you want. Whenever you want. However you want. Feel like standing through the sunroof of a limo yelling swear words at pedestrians while you chug a bottle of tequilla? Itchin to roam free in the streets with a yard glass of pure grain alcohol wearing nothing but a speedo? Dying to squirt a homeless guy in the face with a bottle of Mustard? Well you certainly arent gonna do these things in New Hampshire my friend. For that kind of craziness, you gotta head to Vegas.
Vegas is the ultimate "do as you feel" town. There aren't rules or laws anywhere, more like general guidelines, such as: Dont take a cop's taser gun and shoot a stranger in the face with it. Frowned upon. Pooping in public is tolerated, but definitely not officially sanctioned. Also, I'm fairly certain there is a speed limit on the streets, but whatever. Yes, Vegas is the only place where the one rule is that there are no rules...except at the tables in the casino.
This is the only place in Vegas where rules are enforced with the absolute strictest sense of the word. Keen table manners are an absolute must. Here is an excerpt from last week to prove my point.
Dealer: Congratulations sir, you have 21.
Me: Why thank you garcon, let me just reach across and grab those chips from you.
Dealer: Sir, you cannot grab the chips until I remove your cards.
Me: Oh, sorry didnt really realize there are rules here.
Dealer: Well be mindful it doesnt happen again.
Me: Okay well here is a tip for you for the twenty-one
(I attempt to hand him a one dollar chip)
Dealer: Please place it on the table and slide it over to me.
Me: Wow really, thats a rule too. Do you guys have these rules posted somewhere.
Dealer: No, this is Vegas. Players are expected to be gentlemen.
Me: Reeeeally, cause I am 100% certain that I just saw the guy sitting next to me do a line of blow off of a dead guy's arm. I'm pretty sure he is a coke-head and possibly a zombie. The dude across the table over there just exposed himself to a senior citizens convention for over an hour. And I saw a guy earlier who was having his kids eat handfuls of dirt outside the hotel because he needed to save money for the tables. So I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear here with the whole gentleman situation.
Dealer: Well, point taken sir. Just be mindful of the rules.
(Deals another pair of cards, I have 15, he has an ace facing up...standard)
Me: Hit me.
Dealer: Sir, you must scratch the table with your fingers towards you if you would like another card. Its the sign for hit me. Are you certain you are a qualified enough gentleman to even be in Vegas? Your table prowess is quite sub par.
Me: Seriously guy? My table prowess is subpar? That dude over there at the roulette table just full-on peed on a slot machine thinking it was a urinal. That fella over there just punched a waitress in the face cause he said being named Holly is bad luck in December, nevermind that its June. And if the guy next to me doesnt stop taking off his underwear and putting in in his mouth, I'm seriously gonna flip my s*&t. Where am I failing at this gentlemanly issue.
Dealer: Well sir, aside from your horride table manners, you also have been playing this entire time without any pants on, you have a piece of pepperoni stuck to your face that smells like its been there for 2 days, and I keep seeing your picture on the news because a warrant is out for your arrest for pooping in public. I wouldnt call that gentlemanly, would you?
Me: Well my good man, I cant argue with that. But, in my defense, I can say that I could have sworn pooping in public was simply just frowned upon.
Dealer: Ah those were the good old days!
Me: I'll say!
Vegas is the ultimate "do as you feel" town. There aren't rules or laws anywhere, more like general guidelines, such as: Dont take a cop's taser gun and shoot a stranger in the face with it. Frowned upon. Pooping in public is tolerated, but definitely not officially sanctioned. Also, I'm fairly certain there is a speed limit on the streets, but whatever. Yes, Vegas is the only place where the one rule is that there are no rules...except at the tables in the casino.
This is the only place in Vegas where rules are enforced with the absolute strictest sense of the word. Keen table manners are an absolute must. Here is an excerpt from last week to prove my point.
Dealer: Congratulations sir, you have 21.
Me: Why thank you garcon, let me just reach across and grab those chips from you.
Dealer: Sir, you cannot grab the chips until I remove your cards.
Me: Oh, sorry didnt really realize there are rules here.
Dealer: Well be mindful it doesnt happen again.
Me: Okay well here is a tip for you for the twenty-one
(I attempt to hand him a one dollar chip)
Dealer: Please place it on the table and slide it over to me.
Me: Wow really, thats a rule too. Do you guys have these rules posted somewhere.
Dealer: No, this is Vegas. Players are expected to be gentlemen.
Me: Reeeeally, cause I am 100% certain that I just saw the guy sitting next to me do a line of blow off of a dead guy's arm. I'm pretty sure he is a coke-head and possibly a zombie. The dude across the table over there just exposed himself to a senior citizens convention for over an hour. And I saw a guy earlier who was having his kids eat handfuls of dirt outside the hotel because he needed to save money for the tables. So I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear here with the whole gentleman situation.
Dealer: Well, point taken sir. Just be mindful of the rules.
(Deals another pair of cards, I have 15, he has an ace facing up...standard)
Me: Hit me.
Dealer: Sir, you must scratch the table with your fingers towards you if you would like another card. Its the sign for hit me. Are you certain you are a qualified enough gentleman to even be in Vegas? Your table prowess is quite sub par.
Me: Seriously guy? My table prowess is subpar? That dude over there at the roulette table just full-on peed on a slot machine thinking it was a urinal. That fella over there just punched a waitress in the face cause he said being named Holly is bad luck in December, nevermind that its June. And if the guy next to me doesnt stop taking off his underwear and putting in in his mouth, I'm seriously gonna flip my s*&t. Where am I failing at this gentlemanly issue.
Dealer: Well sir, aside from your horride table manners, you also have been playing this entire time without any pants on, you have a piece of pepperoni stuck to your face that smells like its been there for 2 days, and I keep seeing your picture on the news because a warrant is out for your arrest for pooping in public. I wouldnt call that gentlemanly, would you?
Me: Well my good man, I cant argue with that. But, in my defense, I can say that I could have sworn pooping in public was simply just frowned upon.
Dealer: Ah those were the good old days!
Me: I'll say!
Friday, June 4, 2010
24 Hr Fitness Membership Cancelation
I used to belong to 24 hr Fitness, a sports and fitness club that is open 24 hrs a day. Why did I stop going you ask? If you ask any woman, there is a time when a man can become too muscular. You go day in and day out, pushing yourself to the limits, striving to achieve your goals of peak muscular performance and then, BAM!, you overdid it. Its almost as if all that hard work backfires on you after a while. Well, that man is named Mark, and he used to hang me on a hook by my underwear in the locker room while he would skim through my ipod and point out every single Celine Dion song. Excuse me Mark. Sorry she's so talented Mark. Why dont I just call her up tomorrow and ask her to stop being the most incredible singer in the whole f&%$ing world MARK!
Prior to that, I joined 24 hr Fitness because like any other able bodied man, I wanted to be able to defend myself when things start to get rough. You never know when you are going to walk out of VONS and some girlscout peddling Tag-a-longs starts getting a little over agressive. If you cant deliver a decisive "I dont want yo Samoas" kick to the stomach, then before you know it, you are out 5 bucks my friend. And that's five bucks you could have put towards pizza.
So when I realized this self defense ability was something I truly wanted, I needed to figure out just where I stood in the scheme of things, ass-kicking-wise. So I started sizing up friends and relatives, neighbors and strangers, bus drivers and homeless people to see just who I could deliver the beat down of a lifetime to. I realized that if I was gonna get in a fight and actually win, it was gonna either have to be with an elderly blind woman or a trash can. Not a bad starting point.
So I walked right into the 24 Hr Fitness front office and demanded I be granted admission. The guy was very friendly and informative and we finally settled on a deal of 179 dollars a month with unlimited use of the water fountain. He wanted 180 bucks a month, but hey, learn how to haggle bud haha. Idiot.
I showed up the first couple of days ready to get to it. I did the standard 24 Hr Fitness routine I saw all the other guys doing: grab a dumbbell, set it on the ground, look at yourself in the mirror for 12 minutes, do 4 bicep curls while grunting, set weight on the ground, 12 more minutes in the mirror. Repeat for 2 hours. I was pumped. I was fitting right in. Except for the work out clothing fashion.
I was under the impression due to numerous Under Armor commercials, that if I was gonna protect this house, I was gonna need to do it in an 80 dollar sweat-whisking-away super tee. After all, you dont want to stare at yourself in the mirror for 12 minutes at a time when you have pit stains. You get nothing out of it. Why even buy a gym membership? But apparently at 24 hr Fitness, they promote achieving your ideal body while looking sweet. Hair Gel? Must. Board Shorts? You bet. Flip Flops? You cant squat thrust in tight, restrictive tennis shoes. Sleeves? You might as well be wearing an astronaut suit. So I hit up my local Sun Diego surf shop and got all the work out clothes I could possibly use in a lifetime.
But then I started noticing something. The gym is packed during the after-work rush from 5 to 8 pm. There almost isnt enough mirror for everyone. People have to bring in hand held mirrors and table spoons to see the results of their bicep curls. But the gym is empty until around midnight. That's when things get strange. The people that come in; they actually work out. They never look at themselves in the mirror. They wear t-shirts, mesh shorts, and holy hell they even wear sneakers.
I had to ask myself, what kind of people want to be all covered up, never look in the mirror and only work out at night. Then it dawned on me. Vampires. 24 hour fitness is a haven for super-toned, core focused, blood-sucking vampires. I'm lucky I got out of there alive.
So that is the real reason I gave up my 24 hr gym membership. Vampires. It has nothing to do with the time I was having trouble bench pressing the bar with two 10 lbs weights on each side only to have it drop on my sternum and cause me to soil myself. It had absolutely nothing to do with that at all. SO SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY MARK!
Prior to that, I joined 24 hr Fitness because like any other able bodied man, I wanted to be able to defend myself when things start to get rough. You never know when you are going to walk out of VONS and some girlscout peddling Tag-a-longs starts getting a little over agressive. If you cant deliver a decisive "I dont want yo Samoas" kick to the stomach, then before you know it, you are out 5 bucks my friend. And that's five bucks you could have put towards pizza.
So when I realized this self defense ability was something I truly wanted, I needed to figure out just where I stood in the scheme of things, ass-kicking-wise. So I started sizing up friends and relatives, neighbors and strangers, bus drivers and homeless people to see just who I could deliver the beat down of a lifetime to. I realized that if I was gonna get in a fight and actually win, it was gonna either have to be with an elderly blind woman or a trash can. Not a bad starting point.
So I walked right into the 24 Hr Fitness front office and demanded I be granted admission. The guy was very friendly and informative and we finally settled on a deal of 179 dollars a month with unlimited use of the water fountain. He wanted 180 bucks a month, but hey, learn how to haggle bud haha. Idiot.
I showed up the first couple of days ready to get to it. I did the standard 24 Hr Fitness routine I saw all the other guys doing: grab a dumbbell, set it on the ground, look at yourself in the mirror for 12 minutes, do 4 bicep curls while grunting, set weight on the ground, 12 more minutes in the mirror. Repeat for 2 hours. I was pumped. I was fitting right in. Except for the work out clothing fashion.
I was under the impression due to numerous Under Armor commercials, that if I was gonna protect this house, I was gonna need to do it in an 80 dollar sweat-whisking-away super tee. After all, you dont want to stare at yourself in the mirror for 12 minutes at a time when you have pit stains. You get nothing out of it. Why even buy a gym membership? But apparently at 24 hr Fitness, they promote achieving your ideal body while looking sweet. Hair Gel? Must. Board Shorts? You bet. Flip Flops? You cant squat thrust in tight, restrictive tennis shoes. Sleeves? You might as well be wearing an astronaut suit. So I hit up my local Sun Diego surf shop and got all the work out clothes I could possibly use in a lifetime.
But then I started noticing something. The gym is packed during the after-work rush from 5 to 8 pm. There almost isnt enough mirror for everyone. People have to bring in hand held mirrors and table spoons to see the results of their bicep curls. But the gym is empty until around midnight. That's when things get strange. The people that come in; they actually work out. They never look at themselves in the mirror. They wear t-shirts, mesh shorts, and holy hell they even wear sneakers.
I had to ask myself, what kind of people want to be all covered up, never look in the mirror and only work out at night. Then it dawned on me. Vampires. 24 hour fitness is a haven for super-toned, core focused, blood-sucking vampires. I'm lucky I got out of there alive.
So that is the real reason I gave up my 24 hr gym membership. Vampires. It has nothing to do with the time I was having trouble bench pressing the bar with two 10 lbs weights on each side only to have it drop on my sternum and cause me to soil myself. It had absolutely nothing to do with that at all. SO SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY MARK!
Half Marathon Training
Maybe its just me, but when I think of Half-stuff, I think of only good things. Like when your buddy wants to go halfs on the bill. Or when your mom cut your sandwhich in half for school. Or when your sentencing for a major felony gets cut in half because you were able to escape because that stupid wardon only has half a brain!
See, only good things come to mind. But apparently when you're training for a half marathon, the only thing that comes to other people's mind is that you are a fancy-pantsed little pansy.
Total A-hole: "Oh hey, hear you are doing the rock and roll marathon, good for you!
Me: "Yeah, it should be fun. I'm not much of a long distance guy, but I'm going for it!"
Total A-hole: "That's cool. Yeah I remember when my mom and grandma ran their first marathon, they said it was great but by mile 17 my grandma said she was getting alittle tired but she recovered by mile 18 and at the end she was able to do an all out sprint to the finish. Everyone was so impressed cause, you know, her being 70 and all. So make sure you push past that 17th mile. I promise it's worth it. Grandma couldnt stop talking about how easy it was after that!"
Me: "Well, I wont really have to worry about that since I'm only doing the half marathon. But mile 8 is definitely pretty tough. My legs start hurting and I think I may need a new pair of shoes."
Total A-hole: "Yeah, like high heels you princess."
Me: "You got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, old lady"
Total A-hole: "Yeah well you got a lot of nerve wearing men's clothes when your obviously a little bitch."
Me: "Well how about you get punched in the face, by ME!"
Total A-hole: "Bring it on, little man!"
And that is the story about why I am never allowed back in a Pottery-Barn.
Is that what we were talking about? I cant remember cause of the concussion. Man that old lady was a super dirty fighter. What kind of old lady carries around a set a brass knuckles and a black jack? Good foresight on her part.
Wish me luck on the half marathon Sunday!
See, only good things come to mind. But apparently when you're training for a half marathon, the only thing that comes to other people's mind is that you are a fancy-pantsed little pansy.
Total A-hole: "Oh hey, hear you are doing the rock and roll marathon, good for you!
Me: "Yeah, it should be fun. I'm not much of a long distance guy, but I'm going for it!"
Total A-hole: "That's cool. Yeah I remember when my mom and grandma ran their first marathon, they said it was great but by mile 17 my grandma said she was getting alittle tired but she recovered by mile 18 and at the end she was able to do an all out sprint to the finish. Everyone was so impressed cause, you know, her being 70 and all. So make sure you push past that 17th mile. I promise it's worth it. Grandma couldnt stop talking about how easy it was after that!"
Me: "Well, I wont really have to worry about that since I'm only doing the half marathon. But mile 8 is definitely pretty tough. My legs start hurting and I think I may need a new pair of shoes."
Total A-hole: "Yeah, like high heels you princess."
Me: "You got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, old lady"
Total A-hole: "Yeah well you got a lot of nerve wearing men's clothes when your obviously a little bitch."
Me: "Well how about you get punched in the face, by ME!"
Total A-hole: "Bring it on, little man!"
And that is the story about why I am never allowed back in a Pottery-Barn.
Is that what we were talking about? I cant remember cause of the concussion. Man that old lady was a super dirty fighter. What kind of old lady carries around a set a brass knuckles and a black jack? Good foresight on her part.
Wish me luck on the half marathon Sunday!
Put the Kids to Bed, Blog Time has Begun!
Hey there campers! Just starting my first blog. Expect great things! Okay well, more likely, expect mediocre things! Okay really dont expect anything at all. Just read and maybe every once and a while you will be surprised, and possibly even uncontrollably aroused!
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