San Francisco FM Blues

The Streak Continues!

2008-05-19T18:09:00.001-07:00

This past weekend, I flew home for Kelly and Lee's wedding in Augusta, GA. As I was boarding the plane in San Francisco, I started to realize just how much I have traveled in the last year. I counted it up in my head and realized that: since I've moved to California, I have flown from SF to Atlanta and back seven times, SF to San Diego once, SF to Jackson, TN once, and SF to Salt Lake City three times. This equates to roughly 91 hours and Lord-knows-how-many miles in the air. I know this might seem like no big deal to your average consultant, but it's still a good bit of flying. I was all the more impressed with myself when I realized that I have yet to relieve myself onboard an aircraft. After three straight days of heavy catered food, two Chik-Fil-A breakfasts, a meatloaf sandwich lunch at Manuel's Tavern, and a level of alcohol consumption via open bars that would almost be described as "dangerously unhealthy", I was really setting myself up for a gastro-intestinal disaster of epic proportions on the trip back west. Rest assured, my friends, the "shutout" remained intact.

Now, I'm not opposed to public restrooms in general (I mean, I work at an airport for cryin' out loud). However, the thought of a mile-high twosie is out of the question. Part of it has to do with the overall cleanliness of an airplane. I would most accurately describe the sanitation level of an aircraft lavatory as "kinda" (trust me, I'm in the biz, I know). Nonetheless, the most pressing issue is the fact that, let's face it, everybody knows. You have to get up, disturb the people sitting around you, that little light comes on, you fold yourself into that cramped box of a bathroom; it's just a really, really, unpleasant experience. So, until next time, you can call me the Cal Ripken of the in-flight deuce. (I realize that Cal Ripken's consecutive games streak is probably not the most appropriate analogy. I tried to think of some famous hockey goalie or a record setting defensive football squad, but nothing comes to mind. Any thoughts?)

The wedding was amazing. The hotel was incredible, the church was pretty, the weather was perfect, all the girls in the wedding looked great; honestly, it couldn't have been better. And on top of all that, I got to hang out with my Good Time Beer Buddies. It's funny how the setting of a classy wedding does little to nothing to impact our behavior. Seriously, was it really necessary to stay up past 3am both nights? Aren't I a little old to be waking up on a Sunday morning still completely clothed in my wedding suit? On the floor? Just because we had the "single guys" room, does that mean that we have to force the nice neighbors to knock on our door at 1am just to inform us that: "y'all are being a little loud"? Um, apparently not...

Post reception party

Thanks to the bartender for taking this picture for us. Sidenote: Is it me, or does Kyle look like he's blowing Jim a kiss? And if so, why is Jim giving him the stink-eye? I would be flattered.

You can't tell, but there's actually nine people in this picture. Congrats on the baby, Mike and Molly! I can't wait to see him/her when he/she is born on his/her due date in late July.

Me with the newlyweds

Question

2008-03-07T22:01:00.000-08:00

Two weekends ago, little brother popped the big one. Yep, he finally asked his longtime girlfriend Andrea to marry him. And she actually said yes! So, whew, good news, huh? We're all really, really excited and I couldn't be happier that Adam has found someone that makes him as happy as she does. I also couldn't be happier that I'll now spend the next few months laying the groundwork for what will hopefully be an epic bachelor party. Heads up, New Orleans, storm's a-comin'. The engagement weekend was incredible. The two of them spent the day at Chateau Elan and due a resistance on her part to taking a nature walk (where Adam intended to propose), he had to improvise and ended up getting down on one knee in the middle of the parking lot before they left. You gotta work with the cards you're dealt, and he pushed on through regardless of the situation. Well played, sir.

It's safe to assume that Andrea was completely surprised, this is her reaction:

It's also safe to assume that it took Adam a minute to process what had just happened. This is him after the proposal:

After they got back to Atlanta, our families were waiting at Andrea's house, and we all went out to dinner at Fogo de Chao. Meat fest, meat fest. Powell family photo:

The McLean McClan:

After dinner, it was bar time. And after bar time, it was late night eats time. This is Adam and I slaving over the stove:

Adam: Dude, these eggs are going to awesome

Me: Yeah

Adam: You know what would be good in these eggs?

Me: Yeah

Adam: Champagne!!

Me: Yeah, no wait, what?

Adam: Here we go, we're still celebrating, right?

Me: Yeah

The celebratory eggs a la bubbly were freaking delicious. Andrea's sister, it would seem, thought otherwise:

That shit was good! I don't care what you guys say!

After the Saturday night shenanigans, we got the crew together for a Sunday Funday at The Elbow Room. Adam and a couple of buddies:

Awww...the happy couple. With the groom-to-be in quite possibly the greatest t-shirt of all time:

Hey l'il buddy!

Like Saturday night, Sunday night took a turn to the awesome:

You can't really tell, but I am completely asleep in this picture:

What a weekend. I'm really looking forward to Andrea being a part of our family and cannot wait for the wedding. Congratulations you two!

Oyler's Man Crush Reaches New Heights

2008-02-23T22:03:00.000-08:00

So, as many of you may have heard by now, Oyler submitted a video to be cast in a commercial with Phil Mickelson. The premise of the shoot is that Crowne Plaza Hotels will soon be airing a series of commercials with Phil and his fans. The one that Oyler was gunning for is similar to the "Man Law" campaign that ran some time ago. Basically, Phil will be sitting in a round table session with his "biggest fans" shootin' the shit about who knows what. As of this week, it was confirmed that Mr. Oyler will be cast in this commercial and will be shooting in Hollywood in about three days. Now, I'm not a Phil guy, I'm a Tiger guy, but regardless, this is pretty freakin' cool. Below is Oyler's firsthand account of his audition for the shoot. Enjoy.

Monday

I arrived at the Crowne Plaza Beverly Hills at 5:30 pm PST on Monday. I was met by the Agency’s travel coordinator Christina “Cookie” Ferrara. Seriously, her business card actually said “Cookie” as her nickname…. Christina was always wearing this queer straw fedora, inside or out… I guess it is a Hollywood thing. So as I check in she hands me a wad of cash for my airport rides and per diem. I get $50 per day and $52 per ride to the airport, so all told she hands me $254 cash. Again, I need to save $52 of that for my ride to LAX on Wednesday morning, so this was a real test to see if I would not blow it on stupid crap, like $14 vodka tonics…

Next I went up and showered, because I think I grazed my hand against an empty coach seat while getting off the plane, and prepared to go out and find some trouble to get into. I was all set to do it alone, when I ran into 3 guys in the lobby looking for the same sort of evening. Now along with my category, “Phil’s Biggest fan”, there were also guys in for “People who look like Phil”… These 3 guys were all from that category, and two of them really did look just like him. These guys were all in their mid 30’s, and had good jobs and families… Much like me, they weren’t freaks, despite the type of contest we are all finalists for…hurburr

We took a cab over to the Beverly Hills Peninsula Hotel, where we had drinks in the Club Bar. If I had to guess this hotel was on the same level as a Ritz Carlton, at the very least. Below is a picture of the Bar where we had drinks.

The bar was about 60% full, but it was mainly folks conducting business, I noticed a lot of foreigners in there, mainly from the Arab nations talking about who knows what. We decided to leave since we were looking more for a bar with a bit more energy, so we went over and asked the Concierge where we could go. He recommended a place called Mastro’s, which was off Rodeo Drive.

He then took it a step further and pulled out the Hotel’s Rolls Royce Phantom and drove us to Mastro’s. So there we were, 4 random dudes literally riding down Rodeo Drive in a $250k luxury car.

He dropped us off at the restaurant, which was very upscale, we spent an hour plus there having drinks. It had a great little bar area with a piano player, but the bar wasn’t too crowded as most people were still eating dinner. So again, we spent about an hour there, and then decided it was time to go to an actual bar, as it was close to 10:00 or so. I struck up a conversation with some girls who were having a light dinner and cocktails; I eventually asked them where would be a cool place to go, and of course I asked them if they would like to come with us. They couldn’t come because they had work the next morning, but they suggested we go to a place called Villa.

In the mean time, one of the guys I was with arranged for us to take a limo to our next spot, so we hopped in and headed to Villa, which is on Melrose. We pull up to Villa in the limo, which is on a quiet corner of Melrose, and proceed to talk to the bouncer. Obviously we aren’t famous, and obviously we aren’t on the list, but because it is early, and they never know what Monday night’s crowd will be like, he decides to let us in under the condition that we “take a table”. We agree and graciously follow him inside. Now Monday is karaoke night at Villa, and per the bouncer it isn’t strange for some celebs to show up and belt out a few tunes, so needless to say we were excited about the prospects.

I sit down at our table, and our private waitress, who is smoking hot, asks me what bottle we would like to start with. I flip through the menu and realize that the cheapest bottle is a bottle of Stoli for $400, and the most expensive bottles were in the $2k range. I quickly realized that we were in way over our heads, because who knows what other charges lay on the horizon should we remain there. I would assume we would have had to tip her $100+, and we would still have to get a ride home, so we were looking at $200+ for the remainder of the night should we have stayed. Thankfully, our waitress was cool, and realized that we weren’t quite ready for this, so she let us hang out and have a beer or two while we “decided what we wanted to order.” Eventually, we had to leave because the married guys I was with couldn’t spend the money, and I being a soon to be poor grad student didn’t really have the dough either…. I don’t doubt it would have been worth it had we stayed, but at that price “it” would have had to be a sure thing if you know what I mean….

As we left the bar, the paparazzi had started to show up at Villa, taking pictures of any hot girl that walked in, though none were actually famous. I believe they were expecting some famous people seeing as how the Grammy’s were just the night before.

So our next stop was an Irish Pub on Sunset Blvd, not much to this part of the story other than the fact that in Hollywood Irish Pubs aren’t as popular with the beautiful people as they are in say Atlanta…the crowd was a little alternative for my taste, but Clint and Jim would have loved it I’m sure….

We had a drink there and then got another cab (Rolls -> Limo->cab…you see the progression right?) we rode indecisively up and down Sunset until I saw a sign that said “Nudes” in pink neon. We stopped off at this strip club and walked in…. Now at 11:30 on a Monday night, it isn’t exactly the biggest night for strip clubs….this was apparent as we were literally the only 3 patrons in the joint….. I thought it was strange that it was an alcohol free strip club, because when the waitress asked me for a drink order she said, “juice, soda, or water”…. Now I know what you are thinking, no booze? Probably the worst strip club ever….well it wasn’t because I have never seen more beautiful dancers in my entire life. We were there about 45 minutes, and saw 5-6 girls do sets, and they were at least 8.5’s, all of them. I have never seen a shift even during busy times that could hold a candle to these ladies…. So as we were the only 3 guys in the bar, we were receiving a lot of attention. Frankly, looking back I am glad that there wasn’t booze; because you just never know how much you can be on the hook for if you were swayed into the back room with those girls. They were trying pretty hard to get us back there, that I know…. All I know is it would have been awesome to go back there, but it would have cost 4 figures I’m sure….

After 45 minutes or so we decided to leave, and at that point I figured it was time to call it a night at about 12:45… we had spent a lot of money and still had another full day in Beverly Hills, so I didn’t want to shoot my wad so to speak…..

Tuesday On Set

Tuesday was the big interview.... They shuttled me and another guy out to the studio, which was across town next to Universal Studios. The BBC’s Holly wood studio was in the same building. The other guy I rode with was a professional actor from NYC, his name was Hiram Segarra, and he was at this call back because of a casting call for this commercial that was held in NYC. Hiram had a small role in Vanilla Sky, an 11 year run as a criminal on Law & Order, and was in episode 10 of Flight of the Concords. His website won’t let me copy pictures of him, but I swear to God he looked like Frank Zappa, go to this link from his website: www.hystyleweb.com and you will see what I mean.

So the “interview” was really an audition. The director and producers brought Hiram, myself, and another actor into the room. They rolled the camera and simply wanted us to sit there and have a conversation about Phil. They were checking to see who could handle having an impromptu conversation with the camera rolling about Phil, because after all, that is the premise of the commercial. So we sat there and started going back and forth… the other actor was trying too hard to be funny, so he was a little annoying…despite that, we really played well off of each other and ended up talking for close to 30 minutes…. I really stood out because I clearly knew the most about Phil, and had the strongest connection, so that made it much easier for me to contribute than the actors I feel…. We covered a wide range of topics and we really had the producers laughing…. They actually had to tell us to end the conversation because we had run over the time limit, but they reiterated that they really enjoyed our work. They knew very little about golf, so I took this opportunity to through out those stupid golf jokes that all of us familiar with the game have heard since we were 10, but they really took these folks by surprise. I must say, it was really a rush, due in no small part to the fact that I really felt like I nailed the whole thing. Hiram even said numerous times he thought I had the best chance to get in the shoot because I not only had the best story/material, but I conveyed myself well on camera….so who knows… I spoke with some of the guys I hung out with the night before, and they said their audition was only 5 minutes long… they said they were pretty nervous, so they told one story each and then they ended it. I really think it goes back to a theory of mine that the world is full of mostly terrible interviewers; I’ve seen it during my grad school pursuits and again here, people tighten up and get nervous when put on the spot to talk about themselves or anything else in an interview setting…

So to sum it all up, the audition went well, in fact, they called me yesterday to confirm my availability the week of the shoot, and they will let me know by Friday if I have won the part. The shoot will be in San Diego over two days, Feb 26 & 27^th.. Mickelson wanted to do the shoot in his home town so the entire family could be involved, which will be cool… Another cool thing is that should I get this, I will be paid decently as this is a union job, so even non-union actors have to get paid union rates… I don’t even want to bring up the kind of money they said I could make should I get even 1 speaking line and the commercial actually run for its budgeted 6 months on network and cable t.v…….. it is really amazing the cash that goes to insignificant actors like my self….

But anyways, thanks to all that have wished me well on this adventure, and I hope to have good news on Friday….

The Year in Review

2008-02-04T21:08:00.000-08:00

Well, folks, last week marked one full year living in San Francisco. It's pretty crazy to think that I've already been out here a full year. Looking back, it blows my mind to realize just how much life can completely change in such a short period of time. At this time one year ago, I was polishing off pretty much the greatest road trip of all time and trying to prepare myself for a completely different kind of adventure. After spending a year in the sheltered little bubble that is Athens, GA and then several months in Atlanta surrounded by my closest friends and immediate family, all of a sudden I was in a totally foreign place 3,000 miles from home. You could count the number of people I knew out here on one hand (or, two fingers to be more accurate). It's weird to think that those two have already moved from San Francisco. Luckily, I have a great group of friends back South that got me in touch with some of their friends, and I have been able to make friends with their friends, and so on and so on. So, if I haven't been the best at keeping in touch, here's what I've been up to:

Made some new friends:

Late night in Napa

Night out

Outside Sam's in Tiburon

Sharks game

Was visited by a bunch of buddies (my apologies to Matt and Jamie and Rossco and Hammer for no pics):

Muir Beach Overlook with little bro

Alcatraz with Husk and Blair

Giants game with the Stroziers

Post GA-FLA victory celebration with Booya

Some bar with Kelly and Abbey

Er-dog and Maki in Lower Haight

Muir Woods with the McAuliffes

Wurth and her Mississippi crew Labor Day weekend

Saw some pretty cool shiat:

Tomales Point

Grand Canyon stopover

Route 66 somewhere in Arizona (or New Mexico?)

New Mexico sunset - Route 66

Point Reyes State Park

Hairy Mike: Guest Blogger

2008-01-30T19:09:00.000-08:00

So, Hairy Mike has been toying with the idea of doing a guest post, and actually did it. I know, I know, shocked, right? Micky actually followed through on something that didn't involve some sort of pseudo-homo man-worship of his favorite Atlanta Brave. However, as the creativity well is obviously drying up rather quickly around here, I'm happy to fill up some space with the work of others (Reader's note: This goes for everyone, any ideas that would give me an excuse to write something on this rag will be welcome). So, here's some ramblings from our favorite hairball. Despite the presence of few backhanded potshots at yours truly, I have respected the artistic integrity of these writings.

Hello to everyone out there on the world wide internets. I have been promising Clint a guest blog for a couple of months but I really haven’t been motivated to put pen to paper and pound out my thoughts to share with the whole world (but no one in particular).

Anyway, as some of you may already know my life changed quite profoundly recently. I know, I know, people tend to overstate the future implications of simple life events but – trust me – this is a biggie. I would like to use this space to fill everyone in on some of intimate details and the back story of this life changing decision. If you are the type that likes to be called and filled in person-to-person – I’m sorry – you’ll hate this entry. Then again, if you are that type of person you are probably not going to be reading the seldom updated, mildly amusing blog of a 20-something, transient, middle manager anyway. But, I digress.

And now, without further adieu, here is my announcement: I recently joined Facebook.

I will give all of you a second to catch your collective breath……

As you can see, this is a big deal….

OK, now that the full scope of this revelation has sunk in let me fill you in on some of the details. My wife and I are helping with the youth group of our church. We have been trying to set up a “fun” event for all of the kids – you know bowling, paintball, rochambeau matches, whatever. We had gotten a lukewarm response to the mass email message so we asked in the most recent meeting what was the problem. Here was the response that we got.

Email is for old people.

What? Really?

After my initial cooling off period I went into some distinct phases to help me cope with the fact that I may be considered “old” by someone other than a toddler.

The first stage was anger. I really wanted to knee the little punk in the groin and tell him that if he wanted to press charges I could be reached at mike.mcauliffe@comcast.net fully well knowing that he doesn’t use email. But because this was a church activity (and the fact that I am a sissy) I decided to just bottle up any feelings of anger and try to remember all of my friends who are older than I am.

The second stage of rationalization was the overwhelming desire to scold the kid. You know the old “when I was your age” or “back when it was real” concept. I wanted to find the biggest stick I could and just shake it at the kid while shouting things like “when I was your age we had to call AOL and get a CD in the mail to get on the internet” or “when I was your age we got disconnected if someone called the house while we were online” or “a megabyte used to take a shitload of time to download”. I was looking to knock his socks off with “our fraternity chose a president on the “creation of a listserv” platform”. He might not have gotten that one. Anyway, there were various other “back when it was real” references that immediately popped into mind and I will provide a full list if requested. I am normally a huge opponent of any “back when it was real” stories (exaggerations) to justify a viewpoint; however in this instance I really felt strongly that this kid had forgotten his roots of AOL, IM, Napster, burned CDs not working right, The Matrix on DVD, sending money orders for stuff bought on ebay, Goldeneye on N64, etc.

The strong feeling of forgetting ones roots was then replaced by a fond remembrance of all things late 90s and early 2000s. I could write another whole entry on the funny tech of that time period and the evolution but I don’t know if a blog would be an appropriate platform. I think a better dissemination method would be a text based email (no outlook) only to arches.uga.edu addresses. Once again, I digress.

Finally, I accepted the fact that all of the cool kids are now on Facebook so I better get on the train at the risk of getting left at the station. Now, I am not a hipster, indie-rock, d-bag that signs emails with the first letter of his first name – I am a fairly normal 27 year old dude who checks email daily and may or may not respond. Somehow, this approach became obsolete. When did that happen? Just asking. I feel nervous that I will be on stage 24-7 on Facebook. I don’t know if I can handle pokes and tickles and message boards, etc. I guess that is just how the cool kids roll….

Anyway, now comes the part where I need your help. How do I get started? I set some basic information in my profile and I will upload some pictures. What else do I need to do? Who do I need as friends? How do I make up for lost time? Is it too late? Can I be cool? Please help!

I would ask that you post comments to this blog but I just had a better idea. If you have any suggestions – facebook me – I am out there.

Mike

Oh yeah, by the way, we recently found out Molly is pregnant. Check my facebook for details.

Help Art - I need to be cool!

Sorry, Husk, that was all Mike, not me, bro.

NYE

2008-01-11T20:45:00.000-08:00

Greetings from the world's laziest blogger. In the twilight days of the year of our Lord 2007, I was paid a visit by the Er-dogg and his immigrant girlfriend (she's Canadian). Actually, I had all the intentions in the world to make this post as timely as possible, but wanted to wait until they sent me the pictures from the trip. Unfortunately, the world's laziest blogger was befriended by the world's laziest, um, guy. Seeing as how I just got the pics last week, this post is more than overdue. Oh well, it's late, get over it.

Nonetheless, E and A flew into town the Saturday before New Year's and stayed until the following Wednesday. Three words most accurately describe the trip: Four. Day. Bender. It was totally awesome. We had a freakin' blast. I picked them up at the airport Saturday and we hit the ground running. Went to lunch. Drove around town a little. Went to some really cool bars down near the Haight-Ashbury district. We ended up at this place called Molotov's (for those of you familiar with Atlanta, think Little 5 Points), yeah, that type of place. The thing I love about San Francisco is that no one cares who you are, what you're wearing, or who you're with. We naturally turned to the pool table and started up a game with a pair of guys who turned out to be really nice, looked kinda homeless, and also sold illicit drugs. Twenty minutes later were in a winner-buys-a-round-of-beers game with some dudes who could have very well been fresh-off-the-campus frat heroes at some large public university. No big deal. After a few hours, we made our way back near my apartment, ate dinner at a Mexican place, went to a neighborhood bar, then went home. A few hours after that, I would find out that the tacos I had for dinner had given me the gift of making me barf. Yep, it was the tacos.

Sunday was my tour guide day. We went north to Muir Woods and saw the Muir Beach Overlook. These two destinations are becoming highly unoriginal, but I love it. Every visitor I have gets these little treats.

If you are going to San Francisco, you gotta see the Full House park

Ssssshhhhhhh, be quiet, you don't want to disturb the mysteriously creepy critters roaming around Muir Woods

Sunday night was completely unplanned and completely awesome. I was reading the paper at breakfast and noticed that Patton Oswalt was doing a show in North Beach. On a whim, we checked it online, bought some tickets, and boom, we were there, man. I'd seen Patton once before, and he's the best. Absolutely hilarious. However, I enjoyed the guy who opened before him more, Arj Barker. If you watch Flight of the Conchords on HBO, you know him as Dave.

Monday was New Year's Eve, baby! And did we start early. Some people I hang out with were doing a NYE bar crawl so that we could celebrate New Year's Eve around the world. When we joined in, I think we were celebrating the end of 2007 with all the people who live in Norway. Sounds fun, right? It was. The only drawback is that after you celebrate NYE every hour on the hour, you find yourself saying: "Oh man, 2008 has only made it to Atlanta? I don't think I'll make it to the west coast". Anywho, about the time Dallas, TX was ringing in the new year, we had commandeered the iPod at an apartment party and had started a pretty sweet air band that only covered '70s arena rock. I found out that I'm a pretty good air drummer. I like the air bass better though. Playing the air axe is all about attitude. Long story short, let me paint you a picture of my "countdown to 2008". 12:08am. A was already done. The Big Lebowski on DVD. Me and E sitting on the floor of my apartment eating some sort of Jimmy Dean frozen biscuit (not really "cooked", but more "semi-warm"). The following dialogue ensues:

- "Hey Clint, check out the clock, it's past midnight"

- "Oh. Right. Happy New...zzzzzzzzzzzzz"

And that was it.

So, there's a liquer that I've never heard of before I moved out here. It's called Fernet. Before you take it, people say "Don't worry, it's just like Jager, but without the sugar." They should say "It's just like Jager, except more like turpentine and horse urine". I hate it. Based on the picture above, I don't think my guests enjoyed it much either.

The best thing about being what some would describe as "lame" on New Year's Eve is that you are feeling great the next day. This is a huge bonus as 1/1 is the best college football day of the year. Bowl Season! Snore. The BCS games were awful. However, I did enjoy watching Florida get beat. You gonna cry again, Tebow? What's that, Mr. Heisman? Couldn't pull off a win? It's okay, let it out. HA! Plus, the Dawgs were on and they looked spectacular. How bout'em? Man, I have never felt as sorry for an opposing quarterback as I did for Colt Brennan during that game. He cried, too. For those of you counting at home, the Georgia Bulldogs brought two Heisman Trophy candidates to tears this season. That alone deserves a pre-season number 1 for next year. I'm already counting down the days.

Mitchell Report

2007-12-14T22:34:00.000-08:00

This week, the long-awaited Mitchell Report was made public. Over the last three years, Sen. George Mitchell has spent millions of taxpayer dollars to compile a 400+ page document uncovering the following reality: Over the last ten or so years, major league baseball players have been using performance enhancing drugs. This week, I experienced the following reactions: 1) No shit, and 2) Who cares?

I love it when animated television shows prove themselves prophetic. Several years ago, The Simpsons aired an episode that is now so profound, it should be shown in syndication on a daily basis for the next month straight. I can't really remember the specifics of the entire episode, but I do clearly recall the final scene. For some reason, Mark McGwire is standing in front of the entire town of Sprinfield when a spy satellite adorned with the MLB logo comes crashing down to earth. It is at this point that all the townspeople realize that Major League Baseball is some sort of Big Brother-like institution that is monitoring and recording every little nuance of everybody's lives. To break the awkward silence, Big Mac says something along the lines of: "Hey, do you guys want to sit here talking about this satellite, or do you wanna see me whack some dingers?" The whole crowd starts chanting, "Dingers! Dingers!", McGwire hits a couple of balls, and they all go crazy. The End. How True.

In 1998, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were deadlocked in a race to break Roger Maris' single season homerun record of 61. It was a sensational story and many people attribute that event to be the catalyst that brought many fans back to the game after most folks became disinterested following the 1994 strike. Everbody loved it. It's funny, though, because this is how I envision a conversation between two guys sitting in Busch stadium right after McGwire hit #61 out of the park (Remember, this ball was probably the weakest homerun of all time. I don't think it went more than 20 feet off the ground and barely drifted over the left field wall.)

Dude #1: Oh my God! It's going, it's going!

Dude #2: It's gone!

Dude #1: Oh wow, this is awesome!

Dude #2: Hey look! Sammy's running in to congratulate him!

Dude #1: Oh man, what a couple of great guys! I love it!

Dude #2: Hey buddy, is it just me, or do they look a little, um, big?

Dude #1: Whatever, dude, Dingers! Dingers!

Exactly. The thing that pisses me off is that every MLB-sanctioned adjustment to the game over the last 30 years has either intentionally or unintentionally resulted in a more offensive-friendly game: lower pitcher's mounds, more tightly wound balls, hitter-friendly ballparks, etc... The motivation behind these developments is simple. More offense equals more exciting games equals more people in the stadiums equals more people watching on TV equals more $$$. Well guess what, ladies and gentlemen, the players simply followed suit. Or at least they are being accused of gaining a competitive edge with "banned" substances in order to follow suit. The irony of it all is that the majority of the players named in the Mitchell Report don't appear to have realized any sort of competitive advantage at all (You can see the list here). Sure, there's a few MVP's and All Stars on the list, but for every one of the Barry Bondses and Gary Sheffields, there's three or four Larry Bigbies and F.P. Santangelos. And who the hell is Tim Laker? Even then, the report indicates that most of these players only used the substances on a few occasions, and most often as an aid to recover more quickly from some sort of injury. Plus, the robust offensive numbers that have been realized over the last few years are just as much the result of the aforementioned adjustments to the game as they are to a handful of players taking HGH or Andro or steroids. Hitting a baseball thrown by a major league pitcher with any semblance of power or consistency is one of the single most difficult things to do in professional sports. There is no pill or shot that anyone can take that can make you better at that.

I think it's bullshit that these guys were even named in the first place. I honestly don't feel that any of them did anything wrong, at least in the eyes of Major League Baseball. According to ESPN.com, "Steroids have been part of baseball's banned substance list since 1991, however testing for major league players did not begin until 2003." Isn't that kind of like saying: "Yeah, it's illegal to kill people, but if we find any corpses lying around, we're not really going to try to find out who did it." Increasingly punitive drug programs have been put in place since 2003, and if anyone was caught taking steroids after those programs were in place, then of course, they should be held accountable. However, I find it slanderous to name the players that supposedly took this stuff prior to 2003. It's a shame that their names are being dragged through the mud for something that they may or may have not done ten years ago.

Speaking of big names, let's talk about the biggest: Barry Bonds. You can call me a "Bonds apologist" if you want (Art), but you're crazy if you think he is being treated fairly. He is being villified simply because he is portrayed as an asshole. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I've never met the guy. Actually, I've never met anyone who has and could therefore confirm the veracity of this claim. There's only one teammate of Bonds' that has ever come out to say he's an asshole, and that's Jeff Kent. Jeff Kent has also gotten into altercations with someone on every team he's played for. Maybe Jeff Kent's the asshole. There are three arguments against Bonds that I find unfair:

1) Barry Bonds doesn't respect the integrity of the game or the honor of the homerun record. Of course he doesn't! Neither would you if you were him! You have to remember that this is a man whose father was a major leaguer and whose godfather is Willie Mays, arguably one of the three greatest baseball players of all time. Barry Bonds grew up in a world where greatness was, well, normal. In his entire life, Bonds has never played for a team on which he wasn't the best player. Hell, there's probably been only a handful a games that he's played when he wasn't the best player on both teams. So why would he ever put on a pedestal an accomplishment that has always come so easily to him? Barry Bonds hitting a homerun is about as significant as me shaving in morning. I don't express any sort of undying reverence to the fact that I get my happy ass out of bed every morning when the alarm goes off. I think it's unfair to expect Bonds to act like his accomplishments are "special", when to him, they're "normal". Maybe it's his fault for not publicly acknowledging how much he appreciates his God-given abilities, but arrogance in professional athletes is nothing new.

2) Bonds has played too well for someone who should be "past his prime". Uhhhhhh, paging Roger Clemens. Roger Clemens to the front, please. Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Seriously, why has Clemens not been lampooned for being able to throw a 95mph fastball at the age of 44?

3) His records should not count. This is the "asterisk argument", and I find it ridiculous. Why stop with Bonds' homerun record? The modern day game of baseball has a much deeper talent pool due to the infusion of black players, hispanic players, and Asian players. Therefore, since Ty Cobb never had to face guys like Dontrelle Willis or Pedro Martinez, his career batting average should be questioned. I also think that we should disregard the numbers of any player over the last few years because they have teams of personal trainers, dieticians, and specialized coaches to help them perform better. These are luxuries not afforded to the earlier ballplayers, and it's unfair that their numbers should be evaluated on the same plane. Anyone could make any argument that could possibly set an "asterisk" with every generation of ballplayers. The great thing about baseball is that it is constantly evolving, and oftentimes to the delight of the fans. Plus, Bonds' homerun record is irrelevant anyway because it's going to get broken by Alex Rodriguez or Albert Pujols.

I really just wish that cooler heads would prevail in the midst of this "scandal". If steroids is a problem, then fine. It's the job of Major League Baseball to handle it. Put in a valid system and enforce it. Let's move on. Please. Unfortunately, the media will not allow this to happen. Scandals are supposed to be exposed by the journalists closest to the events, and they really dropped the ball on this one. In fact, I think they are now overreacting simply because a semi-literate Jose Canseco was doing their job better than they were. I guess I'd be embarrassed too. But come on, guys, just do your jobs and let's not crucify a bunch of ballplayers who were simply working within an environment that not only allowed them, but encouraged them, to conduct themselves in a manner in the past that is being labeled "wrong" in the present.

In conclusion, I know a lot of people who feel very strongly about this, and I encourage you to opine in my "Comments" sections. No one leaves comments anymore. That makes me feel like no one reads my blog anymore. That makes me sad. Don't make me sad.

Black(ed) Out

2007-11-13T19:59:00.000-08:00

Man oh man, I flew home last weekend for the UGA-Auburn game, and wow, just wow. Well, actually, the trip started off pretty crappily. I hate to begin this journey on Downer St., but the flight sucked. I have become a total creature of habit when it comes to traveling home. I always take the Red Eye flight home, I always pay the extra $15 so I can have the window seat in the emergency exit row, and before I get on the plane, I purchase three magazines: Esquire, Spin, and The Economist. This is more than sufficient enjoyable reading material to get me through the first hour or so of the flight before I attempt to get some semblance of sleep. Well, let's just say the purchasing agent for the SFO newsstand will soon be receiving a VERY strongly worded letter because for some reason, they decided to no longer stock my aforementioned periodicals of choice. So, I had to settle for Paste (it actually comes with a sampler CD), Time, and freakin' GQ. Great. It's not that these are bad publications, per se, it's just that they're, well, bad publications. The only good thing about the Paste music mag was the CD; I'm convinced that Time is written for an audience with an 8th grade reading level; and GQ might as well be one gigantic catalog for the most pretentious people in the world. Seriously, bro, if anyone reading this catches me dropping 1400 dollars on a damn leather bomber jacket (which, apparently, is the "in" look for the winter) I give you full permission to kick me right in the sweets. I probably should have known all this going in, but I didn't have much choice, right?

After spending $30 at the newsstand and another $18 on an effing ham sandwich and bottled water, I was ready for takeoff. They began boarding the plane on time, and me being one of the lucky passengers responsible for the safe and orderly exit of all the other passengers in the event of an emergency (I'm pretty sure the only "emergency" on a plane would be a, sigh, crash), I got to board in the first group. Zone 1, Baby! What! Boarding. Boarding. Boarding. Oh my God, could this be possible? We're getting close to takeoff, and holy cow, there's no one in the middle seat! Yes! This is going to be the best flight ever! Sooooooooo much room! Oop, wait, no! It can't be! Yep, some a-hole, literally the last guy on the plane, plops down right in between me and some other guy (I could see the soul-crushing look of disappointment in his eyes, too).

Now, I kind of see the seating arrangements on airplanes as being very similar to the caste system in societal India. There's two distinct classes of passengers: Business and Economy. The differences here are evident. However, there are also several levels within the bourgeois of the Economy section. The best seat in the house is clearly the, ahem, window seat in the emergency exit row. These are the people that get to see the city lights upon takeoff and have all the leg room in the world; we are better than everyone else (except the richers in Business). The next level down are my brothers on the aisle. They get the added benefit of the extra room, which is huge, because when the flight attendants aren't rolling down with their little cart, they can totally stretch their leg out in the aisle. Very nice.

Way down on the totem pole are the middle-seaters. These are the equivalent of the people that are summarily denied a secondary education because of their last name or the town in which they were born (think of Heath Ledger in that movie about knights with the arena rock soundtrack). You're in the middle seat, you are allowed no leg room, no elbow room, get over it. Unfortunately, the jackass sitting next door was feeling a little uppity on this particular evening because he immediately set up shop all in my personal space and shit. In fact, he took up both armrests. I know this because halfway through the flight, I took off my headphones just so that I could eavesdrop on an argument between him and my buddy on the aisle. This was the first time that I'd witnessed a midair confrontation and it was awesome. It was like two little kids in the backseat on a road trip fighting over the imaginary boundary that exists in the middle of any family sedan.

Anywho, not only was this guy invading my armrest, he was just a little fella, which made the amount of space he took up all the more irritating. You know how the smaller dogs are, the more jumpy and hyper and annoying they are? Well, this jackass was the human equivalent of a Jack Russell Terrier. He sucked.

ANYWAY, I got home safe and sound, spent some time on Friday with Mom, hung out with the Er-dog at a bar, went to dinner with friends, went to a bar, drank more than I intended, stayed out later than I intended, and woke up at 7:30 the next morning at my brother's house.

IT'S GAME DAY, BABY!

CK was the only dude in the whole stadium wearing Under Armor, that wasn't playing

Powell family portrait. I smell a poster-sized frame above the mantle! Hiyo!

Just rockin' the CornHole court, no big deal

If you have been living under a rock for the last two weeks, then you are unaware that Coach Richt encouraged all the fans to wear black to the game. I would say that 99% of the Bulldog Nation obliged, and it was awesome. This could've been an Oakland Raiders home game, it looked so cool.

After the game, we decided to have a little post-tailgate-tailgate. This is an idea that we should have started a long time ago, and I hope we do it again. We beat the crap out of Auburn, everyone came right back to the tailgating spot, we fired up the grills again, and everyone sat around happily yelling about how freakin' amazing that game was. Unfortunately, we just added more garbage to the gigantic mess we made prior to the game and had to clean up after ourselves. Unfortunately, Mrs. Booyah, Mrs. Tickles, and K-Bone were so stinkin' drunk that they were no help whatsoever. They actually added to the mess while me, my brother, Dan-tard, and Mr. Tickles tried to pick up our refuse. Seriously, look at this picture below and try to tell me that these aren't the most responsible-looking young men you've ever seen in your life. Yeah, that's what I said.

Annnnnnd, once again, Arch Bar ruled:

Greatest. Day. Ever. I have been going to Georgia games since the fall of 1998, and I have never, ever, had such a good time in Sanford Stadium. The team was fired up, the fans were fired up, the coaches were fired up, everyone was in black. It was, in a word, perfect. Dan-tard and I were talking last night and he brought up how much he loves this team. He explained it because they are simply fun to watch. They're every bit as talented (maybe not quite as good, but they will be) as the 2002 team that stormed through the SEC, but they are a million times more enjoyable to watch. I'm thankful for everything the Greene-Pollack tandem did for our team, but they were boring personalities. I love Matt Stafford because he acts like he won the Super Bowl with every touchdown pass. I love Knowshon because he treats every run as if it will be his last. Also, there have been several pictures floating around the internet showing these college kids acting like, well, college kids. And I support it 100% percent. They're also playing with a level of confidence that's just high enough to be effective without being arrogant. They're just having a blast. Hey Florida! We're going to jump around in the endzone after we score first this year! Whaddaya thinka that?!? Hey Auburn! Our P.A. is going to blast Soulja Boy and we're going to make you watch us dance around on our sideline! I dare you to do something about it!

Hell, even the "off the field" troubles this team has are funny. Half the "incidents" in the off-season involved the inappropriate use of Vespas. I remember Mark Richt defending his team's "scooter problems" in an interview this summer. Just good, clean, mistakes. I really don't miss reading about Charles Grant getting arrested for pandering or half the team getting caught selling their SEC Championship rings on Ebay. Today, it took me about an hour to get my head in "work mode", so I spent it watching YouTube clips from the game and reading Georgia blogs. Call me a sap if you want, but I got chill bumps.

GO DAWGS!

If the house is a rockin'...

2007-11-05T20:57:00.000-08:00

don't bother knockin', if the house is a rockin', don't bother, come on in! - SRV

Okay, so I stole Wally's idea to label blog posts with song titles/lyrics. Sue me. I just wanted to share my first earthquake experience with everyone and thought it was appropriate.

One night last week, I was calmly sitting at my desk checking emails, minding my own business, when all of a sudden Mother Earth got all pissed off and for some reason or another decided to express her emotions to the entire Bay Area. A 5.6'er struck San Jose, and I felt it all the way north in San Francisco. It was, in a word, weird. Now, I don't really know what I was expecting an earthquake to be like, but it wasn't what I thought it would be. First of all, it lasted a lot longer than I thought, I felt it for a good 20-30 seconds. Now, this doesn't really seem like that long, but trust me, when your entire apartment building is shakin' around, it's long. Also, the intensity of the quake changed. At first, it started off as kind of a low rumble (my first thought was that a really loud, really big truck was rolling by) then it got stronger and stronger and eventually faded back down. It was like a wave, which makes sense, since I'm pretty sure that vibration travels in waves, much like sound. Now, I'm no physicist, and I've not exactly "researched" the characteristics of earthquakes, but I'm fairly convinced this is scientific fact. ANYWAY, that night I sent out an email to my buddies to share the experience, and here's some of the responses:

-Were you shaken up?
-Did you eat QUAKE-r Oats for breakfast this morning?
-Was it your FAULT?
-Man, Mark Richt(er Scale) sure did a good job coaching the Dawgs last weekend, huh?

Hardy har har. Being the first time I have ever been faced with the Theory of Plate Tectonics firsthand, it kind of freaked me out a little. When I went to work the next day, everyone was all, "Did you feel your first earthquake last night?" And I was all, "Yeah". And they were all, "What'd you think?". And I was all, "It freaked me out". And they were all, "That was nothing, this happens so much, I'm used to it. It's no big deal". Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Used to it? No big deal?". We're talking about the same thing, right? An earthquake, right? This is the ground, people! This is the ground we walk on. The ground we drive on. It's not supposed to be movin' around! Now, I don't exactly have my latest edition of Webster's Dictionary handy right now, but I'm pretty sure that if I looked up the word "foundation", the word "solid" would be somewhere in the definition.

Ultimately, it was kind of anti-climatic. Nothing fell off the walls, no windows were broken, and I only slightly soiled myself. To make it more interesting, I think I'll just slowly exaggerate the story a little bit more and more as time goes on. Two years from now, when I tell people about this experience, all my windows would have been busted out, fire hydrants were spewing water all over the place, fire trucks were everywhere, and I think that I had to run next door to save a bunch of children and kittens from a house that burst into flames when the gas main blew up. You just wait, this earthquake is going to awesome. And I'm going to be a hero. Chicks dig heroes.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2007-11-05T20:34:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I had friends in town, it was my birthday, and it was the GA-FLA game. Oh yeah, and it was freakin' awesome. On Friday, Smelly met me at the airport and we headed into the city to meet up with the B's (i'm refraining from using real names because of the whole "anybody can find anybody on the internet" thing), who were just finishing up a week-long vacation in San Francisco and Napa. Friday, we all went out to dinner and then headed to my new favorite bar. And we partied...

Heeeeeey, ladies!

On Saturday, we woke up and headed to a bar down in the Marina that the local Bulldog Club reserves for all of the Georgia games. This place is so much fun on gamedays, the guy that runs the thing even drove an hour and a half to get to the closest Chik-Fil-A and bring back a ton of nuggets and chicken sandwiches. It was a little like heaven. Plus, for my birthday, Georgia beat the A-one ass out of Florida. I can't remember a time when we looked better, maybe our last SEC championship against LSU, but this was way more satisfying. Watching the game with a ton of Dawg fans and having some of my best friends in town to enjoy it with made for one helluva great weekend.

The game was so much fun, his phone became really, really difficult to read in a moving cab.

Saturday night, we went to a Halloween Party. It was my thought to go to the Halloween Party, dressed as a Toga Party. Unfortunately, this idea turned out to be more fun in theory than in practice, as the weather turned cold, and we turned drunk and lazy. Oh well, maybe next year. I can't describe what a blast this weekend was, and I'm fairly certain that y'all have to come out next year for the GA-FLA game, and for every year after that. You don't want to jinx it, do you?

Squirrel Hunt '07

2007-11-05T20:13:00.000-08:00

A couple of weekends ago, that magical time of year rolled around that was the 27th annual Grady's B-Island Farm Squirrel Hunt in rural Mississippi. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was able to make it this year when I originally didn't think that I would be able to go. For those of you that don't know, the Squirrel Hunt is a really, really big deal. It's pretty much like a family reunion/guy's weekend in the woods/endless string of awesome food/ neverending poker game/neverending beerfest/playtime with firearms. Greatest. Weekend. Ever. It happens every year, and the old guys started it 27 years ago. Big Bear put it best when he described it in the following way: "Yeah, the Squirrel Hunt has pretty much replaced Christmas as the most-anticipated time of year". I concur.

Couple of idiots

Old fellers doin' what they do best. Just sittin' around

Uncle Tim's so awesome

Brothers Powell

Just playing a little game of Bump. No big deal.

Thug Life.

Seriously, does anyone think it's a good thing that these two own handguns. Whatever, Yeah 2nd Amendment!

Showin' off their "guns"

Awww, poor little fella didn't even get to finish his last meal.

I Hate The University of Tennessee, let me tell you why

2007-10-04T19:39:00.001-07:00

In two days, the Dawgs will kick off in Knoxville and throughout this whole week, I've been thinking of only one thing: How much I truly despise the University of Tennessee. I have an almost unhealthy hatred for the Vols, and while some might discourage this level of pent-up displeasure, I kind of take pride in it. I really, really, really, hate Tennessee (have I mentioned this yet?). Now, mama always said: "'Hate' is a really strong word, you should never use it." Sorry, mom, but I can think of no better situation for which such a fervent dislike can possibly be more applicable. Now, everyone (particularly SEC fans) has their own "love to hate" school. For some people, it's Florida. For others, Auburn. Tech and South Carolina are often thrown around as entities that fall into the "wouldn't cross the street to piss on if it was on fire" category. I really don't have much of a problem with many other SEC teams. I like LSU, Alabama doesn't bother me, and I've even found myself rooting for Florida on some occasions. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I like Florida, or USC, or Auburn (don't get me wrong, I despise them when we play them), but let's just call them "tolerable". Hell, as I type this, I'm watching Kentucky play South Carolina, and I'm rooting for South Carolina. This probably has more to do with the fact that I REFUSE to believe that Kentucky is a Top 10 team (but if they lose, does that make South Carolina a Top 10 team? Man, college football is f'd up this year) than it does my desire to see Carolina win. In fact, here's a rundown of my "least dislike" to "most dislike" list of other SEC schools:

7. LSU

6. Arkansas

5. Alabama

4. Auburn

3. South Carolina

2. Florida

1. Tennessee

Readers note: The following schools were omitted based on sheer ambivalence: Ole Miss, Miss. State, Vandy, Kentucky. I mean, seriously, does anyone give a shit about these teams? (sorry, Wurth).

That's right, number one on the list: UT. If you are curious as to the reasons behind such displeasure, please see below:

1. The setting: Knoxville, TN; Neyland Stadium. First of all, Knoxville is a terrible, terrible city. It's old, it smells, there's literally nothing to do, and the campus is stupid-looking. Therefore, it's a perfect place for an equally craptastic stadium. No stadium in the country has less character than Neyland. From the outside, all you can see are walkways and rusty steel girders. It looks like a gigantic Erector Set for chrissakes. Tennesse fans love to brag about how big the stadium is and how many people go to the games. Hell, I'm sure we could cram 10,000 more people into Sanford Stadium, but I kind of like the fact that UGA actually thought: "Hey, let's not make our loyal fan base as absolutely miserable as possible" when stadium layout was taken into consideration. Plus, do you really want to spend four quarters ass cheek-to-ass cheek with these guys:

2. The Fanbase. Alright, I'm going to start this by admitting that EVERY school in the SEC has its share of classless fans. In fact, I haven't been to a single Georgia game at which I haven't muttered to myself, "Now that's the kind of guy that makes me embarassed to be a UGA fan". You know exactly who I'm talking about. However, there is no SEC fanbase (with the possible exception of Alabama) that is as deliciously white trash as Tennessee. Now, of course there are exceptions (Note: I am laying out this "asterisk" because I have cousins that are Tennessee fans. Cousins that I love very much. If I didn't say this, Christmas in Mississippi would be awkward.) But seriously, folks, has anyone actually been to a game in Knoxville? It's just awful. Never in my life have I seen more jorts (yes, more than Florida), bad facial hair (authentically bad facial hair, not bad facial hair sported by dudes trying to be funny and/or ironic), missing teeth, and fans in jerseys. Which, coincidentally, brings me to a point that was brought up earlier today during a conversation with one of my buddies. No one, I repeat no one, except the players on the field should ever, ever, ever, wear a team's jersey. For any sporting event, ever. Take it off, leave it at home, burn it, you look ridiculous.

3. That "GD" Shade of Orange. What clinically insane, mentally-underdeveloped simpleton invented this putrid color? I say "invented", because that's exactly what I mean. This particular shade of orange exists NOWHERE in nature. In fact, it exists NOWHERE outside of Neyland Stadium and the backs of UT fans. You wanna know why? Because it sucks. It really does. I know, I know, we've all heard the "you can wear it to the game on Saturday, go hunting in it on Sunday, and pick up garbage in it on Monday" joke, but I've never thought that joke was funny. I do, however, dare anyone to find this exact color anywhere in real life for which it is not supporting the University of Tennessee in some way, shape, or form.

4. Kenny Chesney is a Vols Fan. This is a picture of Peyton Manning at a Kenny Chesney concert. I believe I have expressed my opinion of Kenny Chesney before, so I'll just leave you with the following logic chain: Kenny Chesney is terrible. Kenny Chesney is a Tennessee fan. Tennessee is terrible. See? It's just that simple.

5. This Guy. I glad my favorite team isn't led by someone that could very, very, easily be mistaken as a Halloween decoration.

How 'bout them McAuliffes? (and them Dawgs!)

2007-09-28T14:08:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, Mike and Molly came out to San Francisco for a visit.

I love it when people come out because, well, San Francisco is an incredible city. Also, I've been here long enough to start getting used to the city and finding some cool things to do. You know, some "non-touristy" stuff. The "CP Tour of San Francisco" is really starting to see some structure. I picked them up at the airport on Saturday morning and we went to lunch at the same place I took Adam to in Tiburon, went to see the same vista point that I took Art and Blair, and Adam (site of the "gayest picture contest"), and ate dinner at the same Italian joint I went to with Ross. Not that I'm lazy or unoriginal, but you stick with what works, right? Also, when people come to visit, I love having the opportunity to see some things that I haven't had the chance to do, yet. Like on Sunday, we went to Muir Woods, and it was awesome. Muir Woods is a redwood forest (regular redwoods, not the sequoias that you can drive through). See pictures below.

After lunch on Saturday, we went to a bar that the local Bulldog Club reserves to watch all of the Georgia games, and it was packed. I've always said that the next best thing to actually being at the game is being at a bar watching the game with a ton of people rooting for the same team. It was a blast, and that game was amazing. I can't remember the last time the Dawgs put me through an emotional rollercoaster like that. It was so frustrating to watch the whole thing (we should've beat those guys by two touchdowns), but how sweet is an OT victory? It was all the better to have Mike and Molly there to watch it with, too. After the game, we went to The Boom Boom Room, which despite having a same that suggests it to be a gay disco, is actually a really cool blues bar. The funniest thing of the night occurred after Mike got a drink at the bar and came back to the table we were all sitting at. There are two accounts of this incident, and to be fair, I will share both of them here:

My Version: So Mike gets a beer and walks back to the tables, sees a candle on the table and says "F this candle!". He then proceeds to sling the candle across the table (wild west saloon-keeper style), the candle falls to the floor, shatters, and sprays melted wax all over the place.

Drunk Mike's Version (supported by classic "Clemson Fan" logic): Well, you see, I walked back to the table only to find this candle occupying the space that should be taken up by my beer, and my beer only. So, just to make room, I gently nudged the candle to the other side of the table. You see? Why is it so dark in here? I thought these tables were square, not round. If this bar wasn't so dark, I would've seen that. Instead, I thought there was more room to slide the candle. What kind of bar has candles, anyway? Not my fault.

It was awesome.

Top Five weekend, in my book. I had a great time with Mike and Molly. Rounded out the weekend with the aforementioned trip to Muir Woods, had a kick-ass Italian dinner in North Beach. Had a blast.

2007 College Football Season, Week 3: My Thoughts

2007-09-15T20:46:00.000-07:00

Today, I finally had the chance to just laze around and do nothing but watch college football games, and it was awesome. Given the title of this post, I hope that y'all don't think that you're about to read some really original and insightful analyses of the games. I'm not that smart. And, I really don't know enough about the "ins and outs" of the game itself. When really technical terms regarding the game of football are thrown around in normal conversation, I just nod my head and pretend to know what is being talked about for the sake of not revealing what an idiot I am. It's kind of like when you laugh at joke that you don't get, but you laugh anyway because everyone else is laughing. Don't get me wrong, I love college football and there are few things in life that make me happier than going to see the Dawgs play, but I also never really played the game, so when it comes to discussing things like "offensive play calling" and "defensive schemes", the extent of my expertise can be categorized as "amateur". At best. However, I did make several observations today that I felt were worth sharing. Anywho, let's ramble a bit:

- There were two "big" games early today: Michigan vs. Notre Dame and Florida vs. Tennessee. Now, I know there is no way that this is possible, but I wish there was some way that all four teams could lose. I enjoy the Florida-Tennessee game every year simply because it's usually a good game that has an impact on Georgia's season. I also refer to it as the Ambivalence Bowl (thanks for the term, Basa); I know the game's on, but I don't really know how to feel about it. I kinda wish the worst for both.

- Notre Dame. Wow. These guys are awful. It appears that Charlie "Front Butt" Weis is not the "Inventor of Offense" after all. Three games into the season, and they haven't scored an offensive touchdown yet. Well done, fat boy. I remember being in a conversation last weekend at the tailgate, and I'm not sure who said this, but the point was brought up that the greatest thing ol' Front Butt has done in his tenure at Notre Dame (more like Odor Dame; Get it? Because they stink! Am I right? Am I right?) is to almost beat USC. That's it. And that was the season that Weis was given a huge, long term contract extension after rumors on the Internet suggested that he might bolt for the NFL. At this point, there is no way that you can convince me that FB did not start those rumors himself. They're perennially overrated, and all they do is lose bowl games. I hope Ty Willingham is laughing his ass off right now.

- UT vs. UF. Ughhhhh. I don't know who to hate more. No wait, yes I do, I hate Tennessee more. Way more. Regardless, as this game went on, I found myself wanting Florida to lose simply because the commentators would not shut the F up about Tim Tebow. I swear to God, if I heard Verne Lundquist call him "Superman" one more time, I was going to throw a brick through my TV and then chuck the shattered mess that it would have been right through one of my bay windows and on to the street below. Terrible. They were all over this guy. Did you know that Tim Tebow (or, Timbo, as they started calling him toward the end of the game) can throw the deep ball? Did you know that he can run well, too? Did you know that he was home schooled? Did you know that he "drinks milk on Saturday nights and goes to church on Sundays (This was an actual quote during the broadcast)? Did you know that he has impeccable manners? Sounds to me that he's not a very cool person. Sounds to me that I wouldn't want to hang out with him (Now, I'm not saying that I wouldn't want to hang out with people that don't drink, no wait, that's exactly what I'm saying). You know what else I heard about Tim Tebow? He likes dudes. Yep, you heard it here first, Tim Tebow loves the wang.

- Kenny Chesney is a douche. Did anyone else see this little segment during the TenFla game? They showed some clip with Tim Tebow at a Kenny Chesney concert, on stage, singing with Chesney (who was wearing a Florida helmet, by the way). First of all, this confirms my aforementioned opinions on Tebow simply because he actually likes the musical stylings of Kenny Chesney. Kenny was at the game, and the sideline interview kind of made me feel sorry for him. He was only, like, 5'2" and was wearing a Boston Red Sox hat for some damn reason. He also looked bald and really skinny. I think that guy has AIDS.

- During the commercial breaks of the Tennessee (that word sucks to type, by the way)-Florida game, I would flip back and forth to the Ohio State-Washington game. I didn't really pay attention to the game, but I did notice a couple of things. 1) Jim Tressel and Ty Willingham both appeared to be wearing those W.W.J.D. bracelets (in their team colors, of course) on the sideline. Are these guys juniors in high school nine years ago? I didn't know those things were still around. Before you judge, I'm not knocking the idea of the bracelet itself, just conveying my suprise that they're still around. And, how weird is it that the only two people I know of in this country to still be wearing a W.W.J.D. bracelet are both head coaches of major college football programs that played against each other today? Weird, right? Right? 2) I noticed that every time the camera went to the Washington student section, a lot of kids were wearing purple t-shirts that said "DAWGS" on them. I thought they were the Huskies. I mean, I get the correlation, but don't they understand that that's our thing? Someone needs to do something about this. They're not the Dawgs, we're the Dawgs. Hey, one of you lawyer friends of mine, do some research! There's got to be some sort of copyright infringement thing going on here. Ah, screw it, I'm calling the Washington University's Director of T-Shirt Printing and Slogans Management tomorrow to put a stop to this. Consider it done.

- Percy Harvin scares me. I think we can take Alabama. I think we can take Tennessee. I don't want to play Florida.

-Congrats to Snacka Croom and his Mississippi (that word sucks to type, too) State Bulldogs. Thank you for not making me worry so much about the Auburn game this year. It looks like Auburn will more than likely end up playing Notre Dame in the Who Gives a Shit Bowl this December.

-As I've been typing this post, I've listened to the new Smashing Pumpkins album, Zeitgeist, Wilco's Sky Blue Sky, and now the iTunes has rolled into T.V. On The Radio's Return to Cookie Mountain. I suggest that you buy all three of these albums, they're fantastic.

- Does anyone else chuckle at the school commercials that they show during these games? You know, the ones that the universities throw out during their games just to show the world that: "We don't just play football, we have a strong academic program, too". I find these funny. I mean, seriously, does anyone believe that someone with a degree from the University of Tennessee has ever become an astronaut? Or that Mississippi State has the research facilities to cure bovine cancer? Or that the University of Florida is doing nothing but churning out Supreme Court Justices left and right? Do your best, I still won't believe you.

- WTF Badgers? You gave up 31 to The Citadel? Wow, that's not even a real military school, let alone a military school with a real footbal program.

- I'm really glad that Alabama didn't blow out Arkansas, because Casey Dick is terrible. Seriously, that guy it awful. I think Danny was a better quarterback of our intramural pledge class flag football team. Thanks for at least giving me a push on the spread, guys!

- I love the crowd shots during college football games. This is especially relevent during SEC games, because all the sleazy camera guys show hot chicks sitting in the stands. And that's cool. However, you also get some golden moments like what I saw during the Alabama-Arkansas game. Right after Alabama scored their third touchdown (to make it 21-0), the camera panned over to show an Arkansas fan in total disbelief. Not only was he emotionally destroyed, but he was also wearing one of those really big, plastic "Hog Heads". You know, those really obnoxious pig heads painted red. Kinda like the cheese heads in Green Bay. Except his was turned backwards (I guess he was already in "rally-cap" mode). He was wearing something really goofy, but at the same time, had a really serious expression on his face. This made me laugh, because it made me think of a Cops episode from Mardi Gras. You know what I'm talkin' about, they always show these guys getting arrested, and trying to argue/fight with the cops while they are wearing something completely ridiculous. I love watching some guy covered in beads and/or some such outfit that says: "Hey, I love fun! I like a good time!" It doesn't say, "Oh my God, I didn't think that I would be getting arrested tonight for what I just did". For some reason, I love seeing people that are dressed in a way that totally contradicts their mood at that moment. I love it. Also, after Florida scored a touchdown, they panned over to the crowd in the endzone and I swear that I saw Erwin in the stands. I know it wasn't him, but I do know that his doppelganger lives in Gainesville. If you're reading this, buddy, you should head down there and look him up.

WTF Dawgs?

2007-09-12T20:12:00.001-07:00

Disclaimer: This post is going to be a lot like the books my brother reads, lots of pictures, very few words. Here we go:

Last weekend I ventured home for the annual early September football contest pitting my beloved Georgia Bulldogs against the Evil Genius-led South Carolina Gamecocks. It always seems that no matter what kind of year either team is having, it's always a tough game, and last Saturday was no exception. Despite the outcome of the game (a disappointing 12-16 loss), I think it's safe to say that the cross-country flight was more than well worth it. I like to view the weekend as a whirlwind four-part series. Part I (Friday night in Atlanta) was great. Got to celebrate Waugh Waugh's birthday and see some folks that I knew I wouldn't see in Athens: Hey Broseph! Hey Crockett! Heeeeey Nathan! Part II (tailgating) was fantastic. This year we ventured away from the ol' frat house and decided to move the party to South Campus. I was initially against the idea (mainly because I thought my friends were incapable of putting together any event that required forethought and organization) but wow, well done fellas. There was plenty of room, tents, chairs, a huge spread, and bathrooms very close by in the refreshingly air-conditioned Georgia Center. At this point, I see no reason to tailgate anywhere else. For the rest of my life. Part III (the game) was well, let's just say it was great to be back in Sanford Stadium. Errrrrr. Part IV (after-game shenanigans) were just short of shameful. But in the best way possible. Actually, I'd rate Saturday night as one of my Top 5 favorites in Athens. It was awesome, and I'm still paying for it, physically. Anywho, on to the pics.

Like I said, the tailgate was perfect.

Hey Larry! (The young Stroziers probably had a pretty quiet ride back to Atlanta.)

Mmmmm, Spot Sandwich on Powell bread. That's a good sandwich.

I think I took this just before halftime, before I would accept the fact that we would lose this game. Oh well, on to the post-game tomfoolery.

Shake it, Mrs. Tickles.

Hey, can I buy my dignity back for a dollar? No? No refunds for that one? Damn.

This was right after Big B decided to "champagne these beers" during the irresponsibility-inducing chorus of Guns-N-Roses' "Welcome to the Jungle". To this day, I have no idea how he didn't get thrown out of this bar.

Little brothers are fun.

God, I love this picture. Three people are in this shot. Two of them look like they have the mental capacity of an autistic seven-year-old, the third one is me. I think those are beer spots on the camera lens. You know, from the "champagning of the beers" incident.

Hey Smelly!

All in all, I couldn't have asked for a better weekend. It was actually kind of weird being back in Athens. As I'm sure everyone who goes to these games from somewhere far from Atlanta will agree, weekends like this are a little draining. You come into town, and for about 48 straight hours, you're immediately surrounded by all of your best friends and then WHAM, everyone is gone again. It's up and down really quick, like a roller coaster; don't get me wrong, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. It really makes me appreciate these intense weekends that you try to cram in just as much fun as you possibly can. And roller coasters f'ing rock.

We knew the girls at every dance hall / Had a tab at every bar - Robert Earl Keen

2007-08-22T20:35:00.000-07:00

Two weekends ago, Adam flew out to San Francisco for a little visit. His flight in Friday night was delayed about an hour and a half (stupid airlines), so we got off to a late start on the evening's activities, but still somehow managed to be awake at four in the morning watching old episodes of Family Guy and South Park on DVD. Shocker. Right here, you can see what we woke up to on Saturday morning (I promise I live in a safe neighborhood, but some serious shit was going down):Now right here, you can see what happens when an idiot still living on East Coast time wakes up on the West Coast and has access to a digital camera with no one else to entertain:

Saturday turned out to be a solid, solid day. We started off by heading north across the Golden Gate bridge for lunch at a place called Sam's Cafe in Tiburon. Sam's is this awesome place for brunch/lunch. It's right on the water and has a really kick-ass patio with a view of the city from across the bay. Very cool. Oh, and the bloody Mary's and icy cold beers were delicious.

After Sam's, we drove north along the shoreline and took in some pretty sweet views of the coast. I could kind of tell the direction this day was heading, so I figured that might be the only time that Adam would get to see some stuff that you just don't get to see in Georgia. We stopped at an overlook (same one I took Art and Blair to) just to check it out. This place is really pretty and kind of out of the way. It's never really that crowded there, being "off the beaten path" and all, so most of the people go there to take pictures, bring the kids, have picnics, etc. It's pretty low-key. Adam and I, however, took this opportunity to have a "Let's see who can take the gayest picture" contest:

I think I win.

Later that day and on into the night, we went to, yup, you guessed it, a bunch of bars:

After being "closed" for the majority of Sunday, we ventured out of the apartment around three in the afternoon to do some touristy stuff. We went down to Fisherman's Wharf, saw the sea lions at Pier 39, walked around, blah, blah, blah. The highlight of the day was when we happened upon a fairly large crowd of people surrounding what appeared to be an impressively talented group of 80's-style break dancing street performers. They had the whole deal going on: flattened cardboard boxes on the ground, boom boxes, an emcee, the works. Right after I uttered under my breath, "What the f is this?", Adam replied, "Well, a couple of weekends ago, me and Jim were really hungover and we ordered Stomp the Yard on Pay-Per-View, so I pretty much know what's going on". Oh.

It didn't take long to take another "hey, look at me!" picture. Hilarious.

Basically, the weekend ruled. However, I have received the following criticism of Adam's first trip to San Francisco: "So let me get this straight, you guys stayed up all night Friday watching Family Guy, drank all day Saturday, went out all night Saturday night, and wasted just about your entire day Sunday on the couch? You assholes basically did exactly what you could've done in Atlanta." Yep, but we did it all in plain view of the San Francisco Bay and/or Pacific Ocean, and it was awesome. I can't wait for him to get back out here.

Napalicious

2007-07-18T22:21:00.001-07:00

So I stayed in last Friday night because I had big plans to get up early on Saturday and have a really productive day. You know, wash the Jeep, get the oil changed, get a haircut, etc... Fortunately, I didn't have to put up with any of that bullshit because at about 9:45am, I got a phone call: "Pack a bag, we're heading to Napa for the night". Sweet! My new friend Melissa has a college buddy who just moved up there and he is now living/working at his uncle's winery. Very cool. I was thinking, "This'll be great, never been to Napa before, go hang out, check out the vineyards. It'll be a good 'ol relaxing time". Three hours later, I was standing in line at a Safeway in St. Helena with 7 other people buying five 30-packs of Bud Light. This weekend was going to turn out way better than I thought.

This is what we packed into California wine country:

Class out the ass

This kid basically has the entire second floor of the winery to himself. That's where we parked, and that's where we stayed. Well, I did leave for a short spell on a mission to go rustle up some dinner for everyone. When the sun was setting, we decided that it would probably be a good idea to get food, but there was one problem. Apparently, getting delivery in Napa doesn't exactly happen all that often, so someone was going to have to pony up and get behind the wheel.

"Hey! I know a place that has awesome burgers!"

"Are you sure you're cool to drive?"

"Does a shit pig in the woods?"

"Sounds good to me!"

For some reason, this sounded reassuring enough, so I hopped in the shotgun seat and away we went.

Pretty sweet view from the balcony of the winery:

Later that night:

Even later that night. At the time, sleeping five-wide made perfect sense (That's me in the red t-shirt).

globa-who, globa-what?

2007-07-14T00:02:00.000-07:00

Ah, global warming. Man, been hearing alot about this lately, huh? The publicity surrounding the recent Live Earth concert has really thrown this issue right in our collective face, and therefore, I feel the need to voice a few opinions. Before I begin, I want to say that this post is going to take a turn toward the hypocritical as I am completely shooting from the hip. Everything I'm going to say is based on casual exposure to the issue, with very little actual research conducted on my part. Let's begin...

I caught a little bit of the concert as it was televised on no fewer than four channels out here in San Francisco. I'm not sure if it was broadcasted this widely everywhere else, but I think it's an understatement to say that the idea of global warming is one of significant importance here in the Bay Area. The limited time I devoted to Live Earth was consumed by the speeches given by Leonardo DiCaprio and Al Gore and about 10 seconds of Pink Floyd's performance. First of all, did anyone else witness the likefest that went on between these two assbags? Good Lord, their interaction was so sickenly sweet that I'm fairly certain anyone that was within 50 feet of the stage has by now been diagnosed with a full blown case of diabetes. Secondly, I truly loathe Pink Floyd. Pink Floyd is just one step below The Eagles on my personal "despised bands staircase". Whenever I devote some serious thought into figuring out why these two groups were ever as "popular" as they are, I have to force myself to stop for the sake of preventing a full-on brain aneurism.

I find the subject of global warming to be highly amusing. I don't think the idea of global warming itself is amusing, but I am rather amused by the debate surrounding the issue. The concept of global climate change is so unbelievably complex that let's face it, 99.9% of the population is intellectually incapable of processing the amount of information that would be necessary to arrive at an opinion as to whether or not this is actually occurring. Hilariously, this does not stop thousands of people from feeling that they are qualified to decide for themselves that our planet's climate is or is not shifting. Seriously, the next time you encounter someone that insists one way or the other, I want you to ask them a simple question: How have you come to arrive at this opinion to which you hold to be so passionately valid? Be prepared for a blank stare and several moments of uncontrollable stammering. Either way, they'll try to come up with some sort of educated and rational response, but deep down, their rationale is the same: " 'cause someone else told me so". The lefties have decided to let the mentally underdeveloped individuals in the entertainment industry tell them what to believe and I'm pretty convinced that the small group of "all faith, no science" people on the right are driving the opposite opinion. It sucks that the subject of global warming is becoming yet another political wedge. It's simply not satisfying enough to openly and honestly differ on opinion; the folks most passionate about global warming (on one side or the other) feel the need to completely condemn those holding an opposing opinion. If you believe in global warming, then you are an agenda-driven leftist that is manipulating scientific data for the sake of furthering your own cause. If you don't believe in global warming, then you are a right wing religious wacko that refuses to accept the process of empirical research and scientific interpretation. "Global warming" is becoming the new "abortion", and that's a damn shame.

Let me address the Live Earth crowd first. I get it, you think that the planet's climate is rapidly changing and it's all our fault. How can you possibly tell? I hear alot about how in the last 100 years, the average temperature has shifted by such-and-such degrees. No offense, but as Dennis Miller said in his last HBO comedy special, I don't exactly trust the data that was collected in 1905. In the good 'ole US of A, most citizens were still shitting in the woods, and yet we are supposed to accept a Farmer's Almanac as the empirical baseline for the scientific research of future generations? Sounds a little flimsy to me. Now, I'm no expert on the natural history of our planet, but I did take a Dinosaurs class in college. Apparently, way back when, the world was a steamy, soggy mess. The image that I am getting of the world of yesteryear (again, this is based on one semester of senior year Geology and the Jurassic Park movies) is one that strongly resembles the Okefenokee State Park in July. Apparently, the whole planet was hot and humid as hell. On the flip side, I don't think the Ice Age was something invented by Disney's Pixar studios. Supposedly, this happened for real. Is it possible that the climate on Earth goes through some changes that have more to do with the natural order of things rather than the number of SUVs we drive? Just a question, but I think it's one that should be considered.

Now, for the folks out there that immediately dismiss the idea of global warming: First of all, try to ignore the idiots that are bringing this issue to the public eye. I agree, Al Gore is one of the most "desirable to ignore" public figures in modern history (I still don't know if this how I truly feel, or if I have this opinion because I really loved the Manbearpig episode of South Park). I wish that he would just go away. However, the fact stands, these guys are promoting some changes that are quite frankly (gasp) good ideas. The development of alternative energy is a good thing. The reduction of vehicle emissions and greenhouse gases is a good thing. The encouragement of our nation as whole to become energy independent is a good thing.

The bottom line is this: I don't think that people really disagree with the idea of global warming. I think they just flat out don't like the people on the opposite side of the debate. The biggest problem that I have with it is this: All of those good ideas suggested to improve the environment are being proposed in the wrong way. The prevailing thought is that this "problem" is going to be magically wisked away by far-reaching government madates funded solely by American taxpayers. This has never worked to resolve any problem, nor will it ever. The government needs to present of bold vision (energy independence, specifically), then provide the tools that allow private industry to achieve that goal. If you have ever read The World is Flat then you might share my pessismistic attitude as to whether or not this will actually ever happen. But that's just my opinion.

More Random Thoughts...

2007-07-01T20:09:00.000-07:00

I want to start this post off by sending out a very sincere "Congratulations" to my buddy Danny. Danny and his girlfriend Mandy got engaged on Saturday. I would go on a rant about how she's way too good for him, how he's barely responsible enough to keep his pants on at a parties so how can he possibly handle a marriage, etc., etc., etc.... But I'll save that for my speech at the rehearsal dinner. Congratulations, guys, I really am happy for both of you. Mandy's a great girl and has done wonders for Danny's "behavior problems". I can't wait for the wedding.

I find thoroughly amusing the reactions that people have when first getting the news that a close friend has just gotten engaged. The difference between how guys and girls react is particularly funny.

Typical Girls' Reactions:

High-pitched girly squeal that is slightly akin to fingernails on a chalkboard and is oftentimes only audible to nearby dogs.
"OH MY GOD! How did he propose!?!?!?!?"
"OH MY GOD! What does the ring look like!?!?!?"
"OH MY GOD! HOW HAPPY ARE YOU!?!?!
What kind of dress do you want?!?!?!?
Where are you going to have the wedding?!?!?!?!
What color do you want your bridesmaids dresses to be?!?!?!?
Do you want a day wedding or a night wedding?!?!?!?
You get the picture

Typical Guys' Reactions:

You gotta be kinding me.
Seriously, bro?
So, are we going to New Orleans or Vegas for the bachelor party?
Congratulations, I guess

Getting the news this weekend worked out pretty well for me for a few reasons: 1) Bachelor party in Vegas in the near future 2) This is the second wedding that I'll get to go home for next summer. There are few things in life that I enjoy more than getting all dressed up in a tux and making a total ass of myself on the dance floor after a few hours of ready access to an open bar. Good times comin' right up! 4) My conversation with the two of them provided a welcome distraction from the hangover I was nursing for the better part of Saturday.

Speaking of hangovers, I got a hilarious phone call from a friend of mine earlier today. To keep it anonymous, let's call him "Jim". Also, hypothetically speaking, let's say he has an older brother that is also a very good friend of mine. The conversation began like this:

Me: "Jim"! What's going on, buddy?
"Jim": Dude, I really need to turn my life around.

Uh, oh. Classic sign of the grandaddy of all hangovers: The Self-Loathing Hangover. This one strikes every so often, usually after partaking in some particularly shameful behavior on an extended weekend of excess. Believe me, I know. If this post was a webcast, you guys would see me pointing at my own reflection in the computer monitor and saying, "This guy knows what I'm talkin' about!". Here's a couple of tips that I use to help me through the "bad times":

No matter what you could possibly have done the night before, we all know somebody that at some point in time has done something way worse
Once you hit rock bottom, there's no way to go but up

Anyway, the conversation was comedy gold.

Speaking of comedy gold, I think that we currently living in the apex of television comedy. There are no less than 10 shows that make me laugh out loud, even if I'm watching them by myself: The Office, Southpark, Extras, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Family Guy, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Scrubs, Reno 911!, The Daily Show, and HBO's newest show, The Flight of the Conchords. Also, I can honestly say that I have seen every episode of Seinfeld at least twice, but that doesn't stop me from watching a syndicated episode when it's on. So, really, it's like the funniest show to ever be on television never left. This makes me happy.

Speaking of good TV, I've been getting into the latest fad of ultra-macho reality shows consisting of Deadliest Catch, Man vs. Wild, and Ice Road Truckers. Unfortunately, it kind of bothers me that some of my favorite new shows do an excellent job of making me feel like less of a man.

I think that the dirtiest thing in the world has to be the outside of a bottle of Purell hand sanitizer. If your hands are dirty enough to need immediate sanitation, that's the first thing you reach for, right? Think about it.

Something I realized about myself this week is that I really, really, like Dinosaur, Jr. I just bought their new album on iTunes, and it's fantastic. This is the first one they've come out with since Without a Sound and it blew me away. Thank you, J. Mascis. Also, I realized that I have a clinical addiction to iTunes. This is really becoming a problem as the number of songs on my computer are starting to slow it down to a crawl. Someone help me. Thank you, Steve Jobs.

Blair and Husk

2007-06-11T21:19:00.000-07:00

Well, this weekend, Art and Blair were in town. Again, there's something about having a free place to stay in a destination city that attracts visitors, and I like it. We had a blast and tore into the weekend on Friday night full steam ahead. The details are inconsequential, but I'll sum up Friday night with a conversation that occurred at dinner with me, Art, Rob, and Ann Colter:

Waitress: So, do you guys want to start off with some beers or maybe a pitcher of margaritas?

Me: I could go for a pitcher of margaritas.

Rob: You know what? Why don't you just bring us two pitchers to kick it off.

Art: Why not? Let's get a little crazy.

AC: Uh, I think I'll have a beer.

Roughly ten hours later I woke up and realized that I had only completed about half of the "things to do before going to bed" list. For instance:

- Take out contacts and put in contact case. CHECK

- Put contact solution in contact case. Uh, oops.

- Climb into bed. CHECK

- Take off shirt, pants, and shoes before climbing into bed. Dammit

- Lock front door. CHECK

- Close front door. Errrr

- Turn off TV. CHECK

- Turn off lights. Now I'm really disappointed in myself

- Set cell phone alarm because we gotta baseball game to catch tomorrow. CHECK

- Turn phone off "silent" setting. OK, this is ridiculous

Needless to say, I stumbled out of bed at 12:30 and had 5 or so missed calls from Art that I couldn't answer because, well, the whole phone on "silent" thing. Anywho, I picked up Art and Blair at the hotel and we ended up getting to the game half way through the second inning. Art had definitely taken the lead in the "who's got a worse hangover" competition, and I don't think he really appreciated the game until he was forced out of his seat for the seventh inning stretch. I, on the other hand, had one of those "everything looks good to eat" hangovers and thought that it would be a good idea to take down a Giants dog, Nacho Grande (that's regular ballpark nachos with salsa and peppers), and a hot fudge sundae. This is a decision that I would sorely regret a few hours later. The game was awesome. I've already written about what a cool experience AT&T park is, and Saturday was no exception. For my loyal readers back home, if you come out to visit, I am convinced that you will be guaranteed a great baseball game when the weather is nothing but perfect. So, book your flights now!

Sunday, we went to Alcatraz, spent a few hours at Fisherman's Wharf, saw the sea lions at Pier 39, you know, knocked out all the touristy stuff. Good day. Alcatraz was really cool, and kind of creepy. The thing I remember most it not the historical significance of the place, or the legacy of the criminals incarcerated there, it is the amount of bird poo. The island doubles as a wildlife preserve, and there are sea gulls EVERYWHERE. Therefore, there is also bird poo, EVERYWHERE. Pretty mindblowing, you should see it for yourself.

This is Art and Blair sitting on a can, in the can! HA!

Me and Husk at Alcatraz. See the the wall behind us? Check out all that poo!

Sunday night wound down with a disappointing dinner at a neighborhood "Italian" restaurant and a viewing of The Sopranos series finale. I was anticipating this show like I had never anticipated a TV show before. Now, I'm going to go off on a little tangent here, but I've thinking/reading about this episode all day long. At first, I think that I felt the exact same way everyone else felt about the ending. I was pissed. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was an absolutely perfect ending to that show. First of all, the fact that I'm still thinking about it 24 hours later reinforces this opinion.

Sam and I discussed this and he described the ending perfectly. Those last five minutes were the most tense and anxiety-ridden minutes of television that I've ever watched, and that's exactly the way David Chase wanted it. Here was Tony, sitting at a low key All-American family dinner and yet there was more tension surrounding this single event than at any other moment in the show's history. Sam mentioned (and I agree) that this is what it must be like every minute of every day for a guy like Tony Soprano: constantly looking over your shoulder, always on edge, etc...

The show was never about the mob, it was a biopic on a character that was raising a family, but who also was a mob boss. It was that tension between the two worlds that drove the storylines, a tension that was at its pinnacle at the very end. Plus, I actually liked the immediate fade to black and dead silence ending. A common theme in all ganster stories is that death is always over your shoulder and you never hear or see it coming. Tony and Bobby talked about it on the boat in an earlier episode, and when Ray Liotta was arrested at the end of Goodfellas, he says something along the lines of "I knew they were cops because I heard them coming, if it had been a wiseguy, I never woulda heard it. I would just be dead". The show was always centered around Tony, so, does that mean that we experienced Tony's own death as he would've experienced it? I don't think so. I think that David Chase just wanted to "kill off" the show about a ganster in the exact same way that a gangster would be killed off. Blankness, it just ends. And I think that he was brilliant for it.

A few more highlights from the series finale:

- The fact that Tony's whole family spent their entire lives fighting his lifestyle, but in the end, every one of them gave in. Carmela ended up intentionally ignorant, Meadow ended up in a relationship with a guido just like her mom, and A.J. gave up on his "down on the world" depression crap just for the opportunity to work on a movie and drive a BMW.

- I love that the FBI agent basically turned into Tony by cheating on his wife and pretty much taking responsibility for Phil's death. It was great that he was rooting for the Jersey mob at the end.

- And finally, how freakin' awesome was Phil's death? Shot in the head in broad daylight at a gas station and then run over by the same SUV that was carrying his infant grandchildren. The black kid puking while all this was going on was hilarious. Good times!

Old Dudes Pretending to be in College, Again

2007-06-05T17:35:00.000-07:00

Well, Memorial Day has once again come and gone, and the team of aging frat heroes that I like to consider my "friends" migrated down to Orange Beach for an extended weekend of excess. It was totally awesome. A few things were considerably different this year than in years past.

1) Out of the 16 guys that went on the trip, only four were still single. Bummer.
2) We are getting old. I first realized this when on Saturday morning, we woke up after drinking all day the day before and staying up until the wee hours of the morning playing cards, my brother picked his head up off the floor that he slept on for just long enough to say, "You mean we gotta do this bullshit for two more nights?"
3) This year, we actually made it to the actual beach for a three hour game of stickball. It was fun, but I was really disappointed that everyone actually left the house to do something other than go to the Flora-Bama or eat at Waffle House. What's up with that?

There were also a couple of things that had not changed:

1) I don't think there is anywhere in the world a group of dudes who can have an absolute blast doing nothing. Literally nothing.
2) The Flora-Bama Biker Bar and Good Time Emporium is still without a doubt my favorite bar in the world. Some people say that Disneyworld is the happiest place on Earth. Those people are wrong.
3) These girls here. Wurth's friends were down at the beach this year again, and for some unknown reason decided to hang out with us again. Check out that creep in the background...

Owen could not have captured the spirit of the trip more accurately than in these next to photos. Notice no girls in sight when the shirts come off. Can you blame 'em?

For some reason, Owen went all "middle school photography project" on us and decided to capture a series of individual close-ups. Check out these rad dudes:

I actually think some of these pictures are pretty entertaining, but it's almost as if Owen was peering into the souls of his subjects. Let's face it, folks, that's not a road anybody needs to go down. Quite frankly, those are some closets that could use a little cleanin'.

I returned to San Francisco last Tuesday night completely exhausted. Then at work on Wednesday, I learned that I had to fly to Salt Lake City that night. I was pissed. Then I realized that in four consecutive nights, I will have slept in each of the country's four time zones. Not many people that I have shared this with have been too impressed, but seriously, how many people do you know that can say that? Huh? It's kinda cool, right?

ANYWAY, I've been a lazy ass blogger lately and will try to pick it up a bit. Art and Blair are going to be in town this weekend, so I'll definitely write about that next week. I know that I'll have something to put up because Art said that the only thing he wants is to be more fun than Barry when he came out here. Now, Art's a worthless piece of crap that can't carry on an entire conversation with me without inserting some sort of gay San Francisco joke and I don't like him nearly as much as I like Barry, but he brings up an interesting point. I've got a string of visitors coming out here this summer, and it would awesome if the only goal of whoever comes out here is to out-crazy the previous person. It would be awesome, and stupid. Stupid because by the time Boyer got out here in August, I would probably have to go home with him. I can hear the conversations in Atlanta now:

"Dude, how was San Francisco?"

"Oh, man, it was awesome. We burnt down Clint's f@#!ing apartment!"

"Sweet, when I went out there, he lost his job!"

"Badass! I win, though."

Pics from the Strozier visit (thanks, Lucy!)

2007-05-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

As an introduction, this is my good friend, Barry:

I remember one time Barry got real drunk and he told me that he was jealous of the Boyers because they got a Pekinese and Lucy was making him buy a yellow lab. Seriously, doesn't Barry look happy in this picture?

This is Barry and Lucy:

Just proves that I shouldn't operate fancy cameras; in this shot, I decided that it was more important to somehow focus the camera on Alcatraz way in the distance than on the two people standing right in front of me.

Check out the badass ride Barry and Lucy tore up the highways of California in:

You guys remember that time in college when Barry wrecked his Tahoe and then got stuck driving a Ford Focus for a couple of weeks? This was way better.

Shot of Alcatraz Barry took on Friday when they were touring the city. That camera's awesome:

I bet when Barry took this picture he thought: "Wow, that looks pretty cool, I can't wait to go on the tour tomorrow." My bad, B.

Me and Barry at the Giants game:

Thanks again for a great weekend, guys.

Now, for the "Make-My-Parents-Ashamed-To-Be-Parents" moment of the week, check these out:

Barry used to work for Reebok/Adidas and therefore, alway had tons of athletic wear lying around his house. The majority of these articles of clothing are obviously intended for the more urban population, but that has never stopped my friends from trying on a few things whenever the Stroziers have people over.

That's right, mom and dad, that's your youngest in a pair of pink women's running shorts. Adam, thanks for putting me back on top in the favorite son race.

Week of Firsts

2007-05-10T17:05:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday night kicked off almost a full week of "firsts" for me when the Old 97's came to town and played the legendary Fillmore West. At the top of my list of "Things To Do While in San Francisco" was to see a show at the Fillmore. This is an outside shot of the Fillmore, and it was everything I thought it would be. It's an unbelievable venue for live music, and as you walk around the place, it's like being in a museum. Literally a mecca for American pop culture (and counterculture), just about any band you can think of over the last 40 years has graced the stage here. This location was the site of the original Fillmore West, which was moved, then brought back in the '80s and is only four blocks from my apartment. It was great to see the the operators still maintain a lot of traditions that go back to the original days of the theater (i.e. a greeter at the door, a tub of apples at the top of the stairs, and they still hand out posters for every show). The place was awesome, and I'm pretty happy that my first show was The Old 97's. I had never seen the Old 97's live before, but have been a fan since my senior year in college. They were amazing. I like to group bands into three main categories:

1) Bands that sound better live than on a recording (Bruce Springsteen, Sufjan Stevens, Wilco)

2) Bands that sound better on a recording than live, but for all the wrong reasons (All the no-talent ass clowns that have been "popular" and therefore poisoning our nation's radio stations for the last ten or so years fall under this category. I want nothing to do with these bands.)

3) Bands that sound better on a recording than on stage, but for all the right reasons (These are the guys that came up playing in shitty dive bars and smoky back rooms for years before being "discovered" and no matter how successful they become, at the root of it all, they are still "stage bands". When bands in this category play live, they get in front of a crowd and just wail with a raw talent and infectious emotion that does nothing but scream the fact that they want nothing more than to do exactly what they are doing right then and there. It is this characteristic that made The Stooges and The Ramones legends on tour, but not all that successful when measured by album sales. I place the Old 97's in this category).

Originally based out of Dallas, TX, I've always considered them more of an "alt-country" band, but after seeing them live, they are way more than that. They're one of those bands that when you try to place them in one specific genre, it's impossible. They display a blend of country, old-school rockabilly, acoustic punk (does that even exist?) and it's perfectly complex. During the encore, just Rhett Miller and Murry Hammond played an acoustic version of "Valentine" and Andy's buddy Dan leaned over and said "Dude, this sounds like a mix between Frankie Valli and Merle Haggard." You get what I'm sayin'?

On Friday, I had my first visitors in town when Barry and Lucy ended their week-long California vacation in San Francisco. Man, it was good to see them. I only wish that I had been out in the city more so that I could've been a better host. We went out on Friday night and I didn't really know where any good places for dinner were or where any cool bars are, other than the two that I've been to right down the street from me. So, we pretty much had to rely on their friends Katie and Wilson for guidance, and it all worked out just peachy. I did feel bad, though, because the only thing they really wanted to do was to see Alcatraz on Saturday (which, by the way, they didn't do on Friday afternoon just so that I could go with them), but by the time we got there, every trip that day had sold out. Apparently, you need to buy those tickets in advance. My bad. On a good note, this gave us the time to catch a Giants game, and that was incredible. We scored some great seats and killed a perfect afternoon at the ballpark, had a blast. Barry and Lucy were flying out that night, so after the game, we ambled on down to a Mexican restaurant near my place to celebrate Cinco de Mayo in true gringo fashion. Stereotypical white kids celebrating a Mexican holiday with a bunch of other stereotypical white kids drinking margaritas and Coronas until they had to take off. Thanks for a great weekend, Stroziers.

My first Giants game will be memorable for several reasons. First of all, the weather could not have been more perfect: sunny, mid-70s, and slighty breezy. It's a fact, there is no better way to spend a nice spring day than catching a game at the ballpark. I will fight any man that says otherwise. There's something that just feels right about drinking beers, eating hot dogs, and watching baseball with friends. It's all so very innocent and American and I love it. Looking back, I think what I will remember most will not be that I was there when Barry Bonds hit his 744th home run (I actually didn't even see it, I was in the hot dog line). What I will remember most is that not only is Ryan Klesko still playing Major League Baseball, but he hits right in front the guy who will shortly become baseball's all-time home run leader. I figured that he was playing single-A ball with John Rocker and Mark Wohlers somewhere. I was also extremely impressed with the stadium, I've never been to a prettier park. The fans were great, too. They reminded me of Cardinals' fans. You could tell that everyone there loved the team and they were all following every single pitch. I saw this same support at Busch stadium and it's contagious. Up until that day, I could've cared less about the San Francisco Giants, but by the end of the game I found myself rooting for them. This is probably the only city in the country where Barry Bonds is liked; the fans stick behind their guy, and I respect that. I really think that if I could get over my hatred of Bonds, I could become a fan. (NOTE: I owe an apology to Adam, Danny, and Oyler. I've always been a Rangers fan, and therefore, one of the American League. However, I also find myself enjoying baseball more and more every season, and the more I watch, the more I appreciate the National League. Face it guys, the DH sucks and the NL plays a better and more pure version of the game. In fact, I've got a feeling that in a couple of years, I'll be seriously torn between having to choose the Giants or the Braves as my favorite team. There, I said it, you happy, Mike?) I could go on for quite a while on my thoughts of the sport, but I've rambled enough for now, I'll wait for another post to explain why baseball is the greatest game in the world because it's the only sport that can't be classified as a team sport or an individual sport, but falls directly in the middle and is only comparable to NASCAR in that way.

Tuesday night rolled around with a show by The Drive-By Truckers at the Great American Music Hall. I mean come on, I know it was a work night, but the Truckers in San Francisco? I couldn't miss it. I was impressed by the Fillmore, but I was blown away by the Great American Music Hall. My first two shows out here, and I'd already been to two different venues that each beat the crap out of any theater in Atlanta (NOTE: I place The Fox in a totally different category. The Fox is awesome.)

The Truckers did something I'd never seen before
and played an entirely acoustic show. They never even stood up. I was kind of hoping for a really loud display of Southern Rock, but this was more like a taping of "Storytellers" on VH1 and it was just as good. Watching them got me all kinds of fired up for my trip back home.

Speaking of, this may be the last post for a while, as I'm heading home in two weeks for our yearly trip to the beach with all of my good-time beer buddies. 17 dudes in house for Memorial Day weekend that sits about a nine iron away from the Flora-Bama bar. Nothing but trouble can come out of this, and I can't wait. I'm kind of nervous, too. As my trip to San Diego proved, I am nowhere near my former "party shape" and this could get ugly.

Here's some more pictures...

2007-04-29T00:02:00.000-07:00

Got up early today to go hiking again, this time to Mount Tamalpais, just north of the city. I know I said this the last time I posted pictures from a hiking trip, but I'm going to say it again. I am absolutely blown away by the the kind of scenery you can take in so close to San Francisco. This state park is just about 10 miles away.

I wish these pictures had turned out a little better, because today was the prettiest day I've seen since moving here. It was about 80 degrees, sunny, and just slightly breezy. This shot is of San Francisco from Mt. Tamalpais. You can see the city on the left and you can barely make out the Golden Gate Bridge in the center-left part of the picture. This also really shows the fog that is constantly rolling in. Pretty cool, but also kind of creepy-looking.

Now that I've been spending a lot of time outdoors here, I still get suprised by the mixture of civilization and wilderness. That last picture shows it really well. I was in the middle of a gorgeous state park, but was still clearly conscious of the fact that I was just minutes away from a major metropolitan area. It takes some getting used to.

Holy shit, look at this! To explain, I first saw this ad about three weeks ago and the first thought that went through my head was "Are these people serious? Am I really seeing what I think I'm seeing?" My answer was "Yes", and I have been carrying my camera in my car every day in the hopes that I would see it again and be able to share it with the sane people that visit my blog. Today was my lucky day. I had to follow this bus for three blocks to get a good shot, but I finally got it (Gimme a break, I didn't have a whole lot going on after my hike). If you can't tell, in the foreground of this ad for the responsible disposal of waste is a child with a giant six-pack can holder around his neck. In the background is another child being chased by what appears to be someone in a bird costume. Apparently, the bird is attempting to strangle the kid with another giant six-pack can ring holder as she shrieks in horror. And fear. Now, does anyone else think that this is a tad extreme? Seriously, don't you guys think that this ad is completely off the reservation? Back me up, please. This is the kind of stuff that makes me wish I had my good time beer buddies here so I wouldn't have to mock it alone.

Every day on my commute home, I drive by this sign and think to myself, "I wonder if this stretch of US 101 will grow up to make millions of dollars as America's least funny 'comedian'. Hey, everybody! I'm Robin Williams! And when I give interviews, I like to have a contest with myself to see just how many stupid voices I can regurgitate in a three-minute segment! My current record is 874, but I think I can break that tonight on Access Hollywood! Tune in!"

I can't stand Robin Williams.

The World's Largest What?

2007-04-28T22:44:00.000-07:00

Well, I've got to put in a full day of work tomorrow, so I figured I'd take it easy tonight and spend my Saturday evening drinking a few beers and updating the ol' blog. Please allow me to apologize in advance if the wordsmithing declines as these next two posts progress.

So last Sunday I got a phone call from a friend of a friend who I've been hanging out with out here and he says, "Hey, Bob Weir and Ratdog are playing a free show at Golden Gate Park today, and me and some buddies are loading up a bunch of beers to check it out. Wanna go?" Now, I wouldn't say that I've listened to the Grateful Dead that much, but I consider myself a casual fan and the weather was perfect for killing an afternoon outside, so I was definitely up for it.

I would soon find out that they weren't just playing a free show at the park, but performing as a benefit act at the Green Apple Music and Arts Festival. As I'm sure none of you know, the Green Apple Music and Arts Festival is just one segment of what was billed as the "world's largest Earth Day celebration." Wow. An outdoor festival to celebrate Earth Day. How very San Francisco of me, right? Once I showed up, this thing was everything I could have possibly expected and more. You wanna see some shit you've never, ever seen before? Go to an Earth Day festival in San Francisco. To sum up where I come from, and to describe just how I fit in at this little event, here are the reactions from a few friends upon hearing of my endeavor:

Jeffro: "Unbelievable, the dirtiest of the dirty hippies."
Kyle: "That sounds like the worst thing ever. Seriously, that sounds terrible."
Basa: "Oh my God, please tell me you took your camera."

Lucky for you, Scotty, I did:

Check this guy out. He was probably 60 years old, dressed in a tie-dyed shirt, multicolored vest, and what appears to be some type of wizard's cap. He was also carrying what I can only describe as a gigantic plastic conch shell (unfortunately not pictured) and was blowing on it throughout the entire concert. As you can see, he eventually drew a crowd and became sort of a side show for all the other future aging dirty hippies. Now, please don't think that I'm being judgmental here, I like hippies. One time in college (when my hair was really long and cool), someone told me that I was a "closet hippie". This is because the hippies and I share a lot in common. I love live music and I'm pretty easy going, with a "live-and-let-live, whatever" outlook on life. However, I also really enjoy a steady paycheck, saving for retirement, and health insurance (that I pay for). This is what separates me from, well, conch man. That, and my love of free market capitalism and the sheer enjoyment I get from the recreational use of firearms. I saw every type of person imaginable at this show, and I've got to admit, I've always been a little bit envious of these folks. Let me explain, I don't wish that I shared a two bedroom apartment with 14 people, worked some low paying job at a vintage clothing store on Haight, and the ragged clothing I wore never got washed and always smelled of patchouli. I do, however, kind of wish that I could just let go and flat out not care about the things in life that the majority of our society deems as "important". You know, things like financial security, education, paying bills, etc... It must be really nice to be able to function in that kind of blissful disregard. Eh, whatever, I'm sure it'll all pay off in the end.

I tried to get a shot of Bob Weir and Ratdog as they were walking off stage, but you can't really tell from this pic. What a show. Now that's a dude that I really do envy, this guy's been playing for, what, 40+ years now? And he still rocks. They were incredible. Still playing Dead songs and did an awesome cover of one of my all-time favorite Beatles songs, Dear Prudence. That one they stretched out for about 14 minutes. Fantastic.

Tried to get a good crowd shot, but as you tell, I'm still working on my photography skills. This doesn't show it, but there were thousands of people at this thing.

Oh, man, this was hilarious. One tent at the "Sustainable Living" section of the park. You know how when you went to a state fair as a kid and you could try to knock over bottles with a baseball in an effort to win some sort of overstuffed and fuzzy prize? Well, at the Green Apple Music and Arts Festival, you get a green ball to throw at pictures of oil derricks, and if you hit one, it flips over to reveal... Another form of energy! The guy in the smelly denim jacket and funny hat single-handedly defeated big oil with solar power and you know what he won? A great big hug from the guy in the smelly fleece jacket and funny hat. Apparently, everyone loves everyone else here.

Something else I couldn't help but notice was the impressive presence of illegal drugs. I've been to enough concerts to not be suprised by the occasional joint that gets lit up in a crowd, but I was truly shocked by what was going on at this thing. The open consumption of drugs is one thing, but the open dealing of drugs adds a whole new dynamic. There were guys walking around with just about everything I could think of like they were selling hot dogs at Turner Field. Or cotton candy at Six Flags. Probably more like the guys selling cotton candy at Six Flags. I don't know where I was going with that.

This sure ain't Atlanta.

This is where I live

2007-04-18T18:56:00.000-07:00

Again, not much to say, here, so I thought I'd throw in some pictures of my living quarters. Whatever.

View from my apartment, to the left
View from my apartment, to the right: Sutter St.

My living "room", taken from my bed "room"

My bed "room", taken from the living "room" (There's really no difference)

My office, from my kitchen

My tiny little kitchen, taken from the office. Again, not much difference, here, since they technically share the same space.

Guest Columnist: Matt Erwin

2007-04-18T18:32:00.000-07:00

My buddy Erwin wanted me to post his thoughts on our trip out here, and since I've really got nothing to say this week, why not? As a note, I have taken some creative control over this, so if you'd like the full, unedited version, send me an email. Enjoy:

Please Post On Your Blog Under the Title; "If You're Going to San Francisco, or How I Learned Just How Flexible My Legs Really Are"

This post is long overdue. I enjoyed my trip out west immensely and when Clint started his site, I should have thrown my two cents in right away. But, I'm lazy all the time and drunk most of the time so I didn't. Judge away. The only reason I'm doing this now is that I recently visited Clint's site and apparently he's taken to roaming the hills with sheep or deer, or some such animal, and going on and on about plastic bags. Needless to say, I think now's a good time to step in and give the old boy a break. So here's my take on the trip, short and simple.

When we woke on Monday, the first thing that went through my head was, "Holy shit, I'm getting sick." I had only been asleep for four hours but had somehow managed to get sick in that time. It sucked. I got sick as a dog with AIDS getting kicked in its tender doggy stomach, which is why I don't have much to say about the drive out to Arizona. America is big, mostly flat, and full of people who don't look or sound like me so I hate them. Also, you don't see much from the interstate in Oklahoma.

I will say this, if you have to drive west, try doing it with Clint. He's a good driver, a courteous travel companion, is a willing participant as you slowly slip into the grim madness that is the 19th straight hour in the car. Arizona was a blast. I can only say two things about it. First, I really enjoyed the Grand Canyon. They really gave that hole the right name, 'cause So-So Canyon just wouldn't do it justice. The second thing I can say about our time in Arizona is that if you want to know what we did out there, go rent the movie Young Guns. That's what we did. (FYI, I'm Emilio and Clint's Keifer, the ball-less brain from back East! Just kidding Clint, you're that Mexican chap that was in LaBamba and some pornos.)

Flash forward, California. California was great. Saw some stuff, drank some beers, got in touch with an old friend. Also, Abbey, if you're reading this. Your boyfriend did not like me. This is beacuse he was skeered and he smelled the scent of man on me. That's right. My musk.

Pacific Coast Highway. What a road. Long, pretty, and full of marine mammals.

Let me finish up real quick with San Francisco. I love that city. It's got a great feel to it, and I got a great feel in San Francisco. (That's it, that's my one gay joke and it wasn't even funny.) I went to Alcatraz the first day. Then walked around and looked at churches, buildings, blah bla-blah blah blah. The first day I ended up meeting some people and ended up getting a pretty solid buzz on at about four in the afternoon. When Clint drove me home later that day I thought it was nice of him not to point out that I had gotten drunk during the day. Pretty much by myself. On a Monday. Yeah...

Anyway, I had a great time and I can't wait to go back. If Clint had to move anywhere, which by the way he didn't because he had a fine job in Atlanta and only moved because he is a selfish prick more interested in "finding himself" out west than thinking about his friend who just moved back to Atlanta and needs an f'n roommate in June and is going to end up on the streets, alone, penniless and performing circus tricks in front of drunk frat boys for nickels, well then I'm glad he moved to San Francisco.

As always, I remain Sincerely Yours.

Matt Erwin

San Diego

2007-04-09T21:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I just got back from San Diego last night and to say the least, the trip was everything I expected. If any of you have ever spent a weekend with the Swaja brothers, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I had a really good time, it was good to see some familiar faces.

The situation I was faced with was that I'd be flying into San Diego at about 10:30 that night. The problem here is that Danny and Dickie had been there all day with about 5 other people and they were all supposed to go to the Padre game. I immediately knew that the chance of me actually meeting up with these idiots after they'd been partying all day were slim to effing none (I was fully prepared to spend the night in a hotel in downtown San Diego, cut my losses, and meet them the next day). By some miracle, Danny actually answered his phone the first time I called, was coherent enough to tell me exactly where he was, and managed to stay put until my cab arrived to meet them (Reader's note: Even more impressive is that Danny later revealed that he remembers NONE of this). So, I met up with the guys and the potential for trouble went through the roof.

First of all, I didn't find out until they crawled into the cab with me that Dickie, in fact, did not live in San Diego; he lives in Oceanside. Oceanside is about 30 miles north of San Diego and to avoid paying about $70 for the cab ride, the plan was to take the train; no big deal, right? Wrong. It was already midnight and the last train from downtown leaves at 12:05. We somehow convince the cabbie that we can make it and he decides to pull a Cole Trickle through the streets of San Diego in a trouser-soiling attempt to get us to the train station on time.

We made it to the station before the train left. Now, as I was the only sober one out of 8 people and therefore, the only one capable of rational thought, I turned to Dickie and said: "Dude, don't I need to buy a ticket for this thing?" Response: (In classic drunk-whisper) "Shssh! Don wurrrry 'bout it, jusss get on". Great. Not only am I stone sober in a crowd of morons, but now I'm going to be the only one that gets thrown off a train for trying to hitch a free ride. But then I remembered that I spent New Year's weekend with this kid and had no plans, no place to stay, and no idea how to get around. That weekend worked out beautifully, so I rolled with it. Unsuprisingly, everything worked out just fine. Danny's brother is the type of dude that things just work out for. I doubt he's ever worried about a thing, and because of his inherent magical ability to make shit happen, he'll probably never need to. I mean, if this kid walked up to me tomorrow and said, "Hey, pack a bag, we're going to Guatemala", I would do it. No questions asked. And I guarantee I'd have the greatest weekend in the history of weekends. Anyway, the downside of staying with someone so laid back is that I would spend the next 48 hours hanging out in just about the filthiest apartment I've ever seen. He's got more surfboards than pieces of furniture and the place reminded me of the apartment that Brad Pitt and Michael Rappaport had in True Romance. But what are you gonna do?

Needless to say, the rest of the weekend was kinda fuzzy and by Sunday, I was ready to get back to San Francisco.

Random Thoughts

2007-03-31T23:00:00.000-07:00

Starting today, I am committing myself to post on this thing at least once a week. This is a good idea for me because it forces me to go out and do things around town while my social life is still "under construction". This week, I don't exactly have any one thing that I feel like writing about, so I'm just going to ramble on about a few things I've had on my mind.

-Yesterday afternoon, I drove about an hour and a half north of the city and went for a hike to Tomales Point on the coast. The hike was great, it still blows me away that this kind of terrain is less than two hours from my apartment.

Only twenty minutes into my hike, and I saw this herd of wild Tule Elk running around. I was pretty amazed by this and stopped for a little bit to observe and take some pictures, obviously. After they started paying attention to me, the following headline flashed through my mind: "Retard Southerner Hoofed to Death by Pack of Wild Elk in Point Reyes State Park". I decided to continue on my way.

After this 9.5 mile trek, I hopped in the Jeep, darted back across the Golden Gate Bridge, and headed home. On my way back, I realized a couple of things. 1) Man, am I out of shape 2) San Francisco is really proud of its bridges. The toll on the Golden Gate is 5 bucks! Every time I cross it, I feel like I owe the uniformed jerk at the booth a sincere "Thank you" for allowing me the privilege of driving on a stretch of formed concrete and rebar that just so happens to cross over a body of water.

-Is anyone else tired of hearing about how great The Shins' new album is? I might be completely on my own here, but enough is enough. Don't get me wrong, I really like The Shins, and I thought Wincing the Night Away was pretty good, but I have heard way too much about it from the minute it was released. I have heard/read on numerous occasions the tag, "The greatest band in the/on the..." I'm not kidding, just last week I read an album review that called The Shins "the best band on the planet". Now, I have a serious problem with this for two reasons: 1) Wilco is the best band on the planet. Everybody knows that. (Reader's note: Wilco's new album "Sky Blue Sky" is coming out next month. Get your pre-orders in today! I did.) 2) I have an extremely hard time listening to an entire Shins album. I love them in one and two-song doses, but for some reason, I simply cannot listen an entire record front to back, and their newest release is no exception. In fact, I can think of five albums right now that I've bought in the last six months that are better. You wanna know what they are? Okay.

1) The Hold Steady - Boys and Girls in America
2) Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna...
3) Tapes 'n Tapes - The Loon
4) Peter Bjorn and John - Writer's Block
5) Cat Power - The Greatest

- Well, they finally did it. With a resounding vote of 10-1, the city of San Francisco has now banned all plastic bags from major grocery stores. This irritates me on many levels. First of all, it's completely absurd. Also, they have forced these stores to alter their tried and true query of "paper or plastic?". Now, the question will be "paper or supposedly environmentally-friendly biodegradable 'plastic' that is roughly ten times more expensive than the old bags and to make up for the additional cost, we are now forced to raise prices on you, the consumer?" I feel fairly confident that everyone will now go to paper bags. Congratulations, greenies, you have now significantly increased the number trees being cut down and at the same time raised revenues for big logging companies, and I know how you hate that, don't you? It's your bed, now go ahead and lay in it. Finally, I despise this kind of crap because it has a negative impact on me. I live on the top floor of a four story building with no elevator. I used to be able to load up at the grocery store, and because of the super-strong handles on the plastic bags, it would only take me one trip from the car to the kitchen. I was getting good, too. I could take, like, 13 bags at once. Now, how many paper bags can one person take at a time? Two? Three? Four? Any way you look at it, it sure as shit ain't 13. I'm going to be running up and down these stairs for an hour. OR, I do have another choice: buy my own re-usable canvas bags and take them to the store myself. I need the handles, but do I really want to be one of "those people"? I've seen these people and I hate them. They all look so smug in the checkout line with their own little bags, often decorated with some bullshit Grateful Dead-inspired theme that looks like it was created by the same dude who has painted every Mellow Mushroom in the country. Screw you, San Francisco, for turning me into someone that drives me crazy.

- I had to take my Jeep to the shop yesterday morning and while I was waiting, I walked over to the nearby mall to kill some time at the bookstore and walk around. This is where I was reminded of something that I had recently forgotten about. There is a new trend sweeping through the world of young women's fashion that I just don't get. Ladies, what's up with all these big belts? I noticed this in Atlanta before I left, girls wearing these huge belts OVER their shirts. What the hell is going on here? The only reason I can understand wearing a gigantic belt is if you have to hold up a gigantic pair of pants. Other than that, it makes no sense to me. Can someone explain this to me, please?

- My neighborhood runs right alongside the northern border of Japantown. So, when I go for my nightly run to the gym, I run right through said Japantown. I can't believe it took me three weeks to notice this, but there is actually a Benihana restaurant right in the middle of Japantown. Isn't that kind of like building a Rio Bravo on Buford Highway? Japantown is no joke, it's actually populated by Japanese people. Not Japanese people like, "My great-great-grandparents came here from Japan and I still look like I'm Japanese, but if you talked to me on the phone you would have no idea". I'm talking Japanese people like, "I moved here from Japan two weeks ago and haven't really learned English yet". I sincerely wonder if these folks dine at their neighborhood Benihana. And if not, are they offended by it? One of these days, I'm going get the balls to ask someone.

- Last Thursday, I went to Happy Hour with Rob (Wurth's brother-in-law) and some people that he works with and/or goes to school with. It was great to get out and meet some new people, but the most interesting part of the night occured when I met his buddy Dan and Dan's wife whose name is, I kid you not, Roseanne. Dan and Roseanne. It was a good thing that I left when I did, because I was about two beers away from not being able to control my urge to unlease a barrage of questions like: So, your last name's Connor, right? What's it like to grow up in Lanford, Illinois? Your daughter's name is Isabella? Don't you think Becky sounds better? I could go on for hours and it bothers how much I hate having wisecracks that I can't verbalize.

- Finally, I've been pretty good about resisting the urge to turn my blog into my own personal soapbox, but given the current political climate, I don't know how much longer I can hold out. All I hear about is Hilary Clinton and national health care and Barack Obama and how much he's a "rock star" and I don't know how much more I can take.

Well, next weekend I'm off to San Diego to hang out with Danny and Dickie and the Ninja. So, I should have plenty to write about when I get back, but I seriously doubt that I should.

Welcome to San Francisco

2007-03-02T21:19:00.000-08:00

Well, I started to draft a post just to do a general recap/summary of the road trip out here, but since I've been such a slack-ass blogger the last two weeks, that time has passed. In my defense, I have officially left the chain restaurants and big-box retailers of suburban San Mateo and finally moved into my apartment in San Francisco last weekend. Needless to say, the last week and a half has kept me pretty busy.

First of all, I am now in week six (I can't believe I've been gone a month and a half already) of my new job, and it's going really well. I've never been given so much responsibility and control over an operation in any capacity before, and to be honest, I love it. For those of you who I haven't had the chance to catch up with, I am in charge of the United Airlines Cabin account out here. Basically, I run all of the services that AirServ performs for United that take place out on the ramp (cabin cleaning, security searches, lavatory service, etc...). From an outside perspective, it seems pretty simple, but it's actually kind of overwhelming. I manage just over 200 people and we service about 1000 planes per week. It's definitely kept me busy. Coming out here, I was excited about working at the airport for three main reasons: (1) Exciting job opportunity (Check) (2) One more link in my growing chain of weird-ass jobs that no one has ever heard of anyone doing before (Definite Check) (3) Three words: Duty.Free.Shop. (No check) I was super excited at the idea of having ready access to all the cheap booze, cigarettes, and 8lb Toblerone bars that I could get my hands on, but apparently the Duty Free Shop is only available to (sigh) passengers. I guess my dream of becoming a pimply-faced, chain-smoking alcoholic will have to go unfulfilled, for now. (Just joking, Mom)

As for my new place, city-living is going to be a completely different experience for me. It's gonna take me awhile to get used to things like: street noise below my building, climbing up and down three flights of stairs just to do laundry, and having to walk everywhere in the neighborhood to get anything. I've also realized that my faith in Seinfeld as an accurate depiction of city life was no mistake. Just about everyone is on a first-name basis with the neighborhood convenience store and deli guy, everyone knows everyone else in my building, people walk everywhere, and parking is a bitch. Thank you, Larry David, for preparing me for this lifestyle adjustment.

As a city, San Francisco really isn't as "out there" as most people think. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's definitely NOT Georgia, but not as different as I expected. It reminds me a lot of Chicago in that the city is just a collection of independent neighborhoods, each with their own demographics, character, and appeal. However, I have already had a couple of "I knew I was in San Francisco when..." moments. The first occured my second weekend in town. On Sunday, I went to get a hair cut and as I was leaving, I was acosted by a tiny little Asian woman who proceeded to lecture me on the fact that that day was the first day of the Chinese New Year and that it's bad luck to get your hair cut on the first day of the Chinese New Year because it represents cutting your finances for the coming year or some bullshit. I was rather amused but really annoyed by this 90-pound stack of Sino-American self-righteousness and offered to further discuss the issue over a cup of piping hot green tea. She then promptly rolled her eyes and left me alone.

The second instance is still ongoing, but check this out. Every morning before work, I watch the local news to check out the traffic for my commute, the weather (which I'll discuss in a minute), how many people got shot in Oakland while I was sleeping, etc... Last week, it came out that a group of local politicians are trying to push through a citywide ban on (ahem) plastic bags at grocery stores. Apparently, they tried to do this last year, but instead of an outright ban, they tried to vote in a bill that would impose a 17 cents per bag tax on consumers. California has effectively tackled tobacco companies (you can't smoke ANYWHERE, an idea against which I am opposed on principle, but it does make the bars and restaurants nicer), oil companies (gas is about $3.50 a gallon out here), so I guess the next one on the list is BIG PLASTIC. Good times!

Okay, one little note on the weather. The weather in the bay area is insane. At any given time, the temperature in San Francisco (where I live) is completely different than the temperature at the airport (where I work) than the temperature in Oakland or Burlingame or San Mateo or any other city within 30 miles of SF. Just this morning on the news, the meteorologist announced a current temperature in the bay area of 48-57 with a high of 65-73. I'm not kidding. It's weird. Today when I woke up, it was cold and rainy, then for about two hours this afternoon it was 70 and sunny, then in what seemed to be 30 minutes, the temperature dropped by about 20 degrees. I can't get used to it.

As one last parting gift from the road trip, I have generously created the greatest road trip album of all time. Despite the fact that only Erwin, Nathan, Jim, Rue, and my cousin Billy will actually recognize and/or appreciate a majority of these songs, the next time you need to drive anywhere, do yourself a favor and download this list, burn 'em on a disc, and you won't need another CD, ever. Speaking from experience, you will not find another collection of 18 songs that are more appropriate to listen to while driving. The majority of these songs fall under three categories: 1) Kick-ass rock-and-roll that makes you wish you were cruising along at 95mph in a '65 GTO instead of an '01 Jeep Cherokee that shudders a little bit when you go faster than 10 over the speed limit (See #'s 1,2, and 12) 2) Steady songs that you wish would never end (See #'s 4,5,14, and15) 3) Super happy power pop (there's alot to be said for songs that just plain put you in a good mood, see #'s 8,9, and 18)

1) Rebel Rebel by David Bowie - Oh man, I do not have the vocabulary to express how much I love this song, it's definitely in my all-time Top 5

2) Punkrocker by Iggy Pop and Teddybears - I had never heard this song until this road trip, and I've probably listened to it a hundred times since. I love this song like white kids in Los Angeles love hip-hop.

3) Violet Furs by The Whigs - These guys have completely restored my faith in the Athens music scene.

4) Do You Realize? by The Flaming Lips

5) This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) by The Talking Heads

6) Tom Ames' Prayer by Robert Earl Keen - This just might be the single baddest, meanest, toughest song ever written. Really listen to the lyrics and I dare you to tell me otherwise.

7) Bobby Jean (Live) by Bruce Springsteen

8) Big Star by I Am the World Trade Center

9) Mint Car by The Cure

10) East Bound and Down by Jerry Reed - Do I really need to explain why this made the list? Without a doubt the definitive outlaw driving song.

11) The Man In Me by Bob Dylan

12) Rip It Up by JET

13) Gotta Get Back by Shelby Lynne

14) Where Is My Mind? by The Pixies

15) Sweet Jane by Lou Reed

16) Lookin' Out My Back Door by Creedence Clearwater Revival - My reasons for adding this track are two-fold. First, it's a great song. Second, it always reminds me of my favorite scene from The Big Lebowski. You know, the one where Jeff Bridges is driving down the road, flicks a lit joint into a closed window, tries to put it out by pouring a half-full beer into his lap and then crashes head-on into a dumpster. I've seen that movie a thousand times and that scene makes me laugh out loud every time I see it.

17) Molly's Chambers by Kings of Leon - Kings of Leon is one my favorite new bands. Three brothers and a cousin who were raised by an evangelical preacher of a father (whose name is Leon) who lugged the kids all over Tennessee traveling from tent revival to tent revival a la Steve Martin in "Leap of Faith". Now the kids are half-grown and are standing side by side with the Drive By Truckers on the front lines of the battle to keep Southern Rock alive. Awesome.

18) A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger by Of Montreal

Final Day

2007-03-02T20:27:00.000-08:00

Saturday came and it was time to tackle the final leg of our cross-country trip. To be honest, the whole day was a little bitter-sweet. I was excited to finally get to San Francisco, but I also hated to be done with the trip (Nobody likes the last day of vacation, right?).

The goal was to travel up the Pacific Coast Highway the entire way from Los Angeles to San Francisco. We drove through Malibu, Monterrey, and Big Sur; three places I really wanted to see. The drive was a little bit of a downer because it rained on us the entire time. Despite the fog, cloudy sky, and constant rain, I still came away convinced that there is not a more incredible stretch of highway in the world. Unbelievable. I can't wait to get back out there this summer, when the weather's nice. Enjoy the pictures below:

As we were driving, we saw a pretty large group of people just standing around next to the highway. We figured what the hell, we'll stop and see what these folks are staring at. We pulled off and saw this down on the beach. Literally hundreds and hundreds of elephant seals. We had just stumbled upon a really unique natural phenomenon. This was straight out of something on the Discovery Channel and we were blown away. These things were soooo big (the males can weigh up to 5000 pounds) and they were making some of the most godawful noises I've ever heard. Totally unexpected and unusual part of the trip.

Rocky coastline along the PCH. I think the reason I enjoyed this drive so much is that I've always loved the ocean, but I hate the beach. It reminded me alot of the coast in Maine, except here, it's a lot more exaggerated; the hills are steeper, the coastline is rockier and so on. I loved it.

So, it took us about 10 hours to finally get to San Francisco, but it was well worth it. We drove around, found my temporary housing, and passed out. Mission accomplished. Upon review, this is a pretty weak post, Road Trip Summary coming next...

Days 4 & 5

2007-03-01T21:38:00.000-08:00

We rolled into L.A. early Thursday afternoon. I hate to go to negativetown here, but Los Angeles, in a word, sucks. I was expecting nothing but cops in cars and topless bars, but Jim Morrison is a liar. He failed to mention the brownish-yellow haze that hangs over the city and the infinite pieces of trash that line the interstate throughout town. I don't really know what I was expecting of L.A., but I was really disappointed. I mean come on, there isn't another state in the entire union that is more effective at pissing away taxpayer's money like California and you mean to tell me that they can't find the funds for an effective waste removal program in the state's most visible city? Come on Arnold, stop being so stingy, let's see some that T2 money, bitch.

At a loss for what to do, we tried to call Abbey, but couldn't get a hold of her. Then we tried Erwin's buddy Brett in an attempt to find somewhere to kill an afternoon; he pointed us to Santa Monica. I'd heard of Santa Monica, knew it was on the beach, and figured why not, we'll give it a go. Now, I don't want to talk shit about Brett, 'cause he ended up being a really cool guy, but he obviously didn't get what we were looking for. Being the tourists that we were, he must've figured that we wanted to do some touristy stuff, because that's exactly what we found in Santa Monica. It was kinda like Atlantic Station threw up next to the ocean: very new, very clean, and very superficial. We didn't like it all. Plus, I've never seen more homeless people in my life (although, I can't blame them, if I was homeless, I'd choose to camp out in a town where the weather's always nice and the people feel that homelessness is an uncontrollable condition that warrants regular handouts and government assistance). This day was going down the tubes quick, so we did what any other pair of red-blooded, twenty-something, American males would've done: parked our asses at the first cool bar we could find. You know, take a break, put it in neutral, recharge the batteries, and figure out what we were going to do next.

At the time, we didn't realize that this "break" would last for the next 48 hours.

After chatting it up with the bartender at Ye Olde British Pub (founded 1989), we were given directions to a much cooler part of town that seemed to be more up our alley, Venice Beach. This was perfect because we were supposed to be staying the next two nights in Venice Beach, but had no idea how to get there. Now, Venice Beach is really cool, this little street had just what we were looking for. Dimly lit dive bars, pool tables, and juke boxes stocked with a fantastic variety of music. So, that's pretty much how the rest of the day went, playing pool at a bar, sitting at another bar, making friends with strangers at another bar, etc...

Later that night, Abbey would meet up with us right before either one us got to the state that would deny us the ability to drive to her apartment, perfect timing.

Thursday night, Abbey took us out on the town, this picture was taken at some place that we were told was a regular hangout for reality TV stars. None of them were out on this particular night, I guess they were all too busy signing autographs for middle school girls at a nearby mall, or guest bartending at the Classic City Saloon in Athens.

Thursday night was really fun, went to a lot of cool bars and took in the nightlife of Venice Beach. One weird thing though, we went to a couple places that I guess would technically be called "clubs" (house music, booty dancin', etc...), not really my cup of tea, but whatever, and all of these bars were so darkly lit that you literally couldn't see across the room. To make it even worse, what little lighting did exist was all colored lighting, red was a really popular choice. I've never been so uncomfortable, it felt like I was in the middle of a David Lynch movie or something. (Abbey said that the reason the bars are lit like this is so famous people can go there and not be recognized. This struck me as odd, considering I've never been to a city where the people are more obsessed with how they look.)

ANYWAY, I woke up Friday with a stage 5 hangover. If you don't know this already, I don't handle hangovers very well. In fact, I'm 110% sissy when it comes to hangovers. I didn't leave Abbey's apartment until 2pm, and that was to go to Brett's place in Hermosa Beach (Reader's note: If you ever find yourself in L.A., leave immediately and head to Hermosa Beach. It's gorgeous down there; it exactly matches what I had imagined California would be like). When we got back to Abbey's an hour later, we were pretty worn out, so we decided to watch TV and take a nap for a few hours. Around 5, we got up and went to the exact same bar we were at the day before when Abbey came to get us.

Later Friday night, we all went to dinner at a really cool Mexican restaurant that apparently is pretty well-known. It's a shame that I can't remember the name of it. Anyway, this is Erwin blowing out his birthday candle with his inhaler.

All in all, most people would say that we really wasted our time in L.A., but we had a blast. To sum up the trip, I had the following conversation with my brother:

Adam: So, did you guys see the Hollywood sign?

Me: Kinda, in the distance from the interstate.

Adam: Did you see the walk of fame by the Chinese Theater?

Me: Nope, we watched the last half of Star Wars, though.

Adam: What about Mulholland drive?

Me: Nah, knocked out The Empire Strikes Back from start to finish.

Adam: Rodeo drive?

Me: Ehhh, no. We felt it was more important sit around and watch the first half of Return of the Jedi.

Adam: Did you at least see a celebrity?

Me: No

Adam: Not one?

Me: Well, no one famous stopped by Abbey's apartment, so no.

Adam: Jesus.

Day 3

2007-02-22T18:15:00.000-08:00

DAY 3:

Day 3 of the road trip was by far the best. We started the day in Williams, AZ, but would take off a little later than expected, because Erwin decided that he'd had enough, it was time to go to the doctor. This is him filling out his information at the hospital, is that not the cutest little pen you've ever seen in your life? I also think the children's toys next to him are a nice touch, too.

After waiting over an hour to get his prescription filled (which included an inhaler, oh, sorry, Erwin requested that it be called a puffer), we drove north to the Grand Canyon. As you can see from the pictures below, the Grand Canyon really is quite grand, so we felt no need to argue semantics with the nice people working the desk at the welcome center.

Hey! Check out the size of that hole!

This is me next to the Powell monument. Apparently, the first guy to explore the Grand Canyon was a Powell, and I feel fully confident that there is no way we aren't related. By that rationale, I figure that the Grand Canyon technically belongs to me, well half of it belongs to me, Adam can have the bad half.

After exploring the world's most popular manifestation of erosion for a couple of hours, it was time to hit the road. When planning out this trip, I was most looking forward to seeing the Grand Canyon, next on the list was driving on Route 66. The plan was to take Old Route 66 the entire day. We had no idea how long it would take us, but we had our Route 66 Adventure Handbook riding shotgun and we were ready to take it as long as we had daylight.

This is me, obviously, somewhere is western Arizona. I've never been on a road so flat and so wide open, it was a really, really cool drive.

Sunset in western AZ, about 50 miles from the California state line. No, I didn't take a picture of this because I used to work for a railroad and I love trains, it just happened to be going by.

Once darkness fell in Arizona, it was decision time. How far should we take this leg of the drive? Well, it was still kind of early, so we figured we'd push on for a few more hours, get on in to California, and just find a hotel in the first decent-sized city we came to. After looking at a map and using the big green interstate mileage signs as a guide, we decided that Barstow would just as good a place to stop as any other, so Barstow it was.

About an hour after sunset, we crossed the California state line.

Reader's note: My travel buddy had made it a point to photograph every single welcome sign for every state line we crossed. We finally get to our tenth (Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California) and final state, and this is the picture he got. What a douche.

So, we get into California and come across something I've never seen before. The state of California actually has checkpoints at the border. When you cross the state line, you have to stop and be greeted by some dude armed only with a flashlight, a bright green reflective vest, and an over-inflated sense of self-importance. He asked where we are going, where we were coming from, and if we had any fruits or vegetables, plants, or SMALL ANIMALS. (We were immediately struck by the blatant arrogance of this situation, what the hell does California think it is, a completely different country or something?) After taking in this terribly unnecessary barrage of questions, I looked this glorified security guard in the eye and said: "NO". He graciously waved us through. HA! Sucks to be you, Mr. Border Guy, we just snuck into California with four oranges in a backpack and a whole sackful of chinchillas in the trunk! Score!

About an hour later we rolled into Barstow and what a big, sweaty turd of a town that was. We fully expected Barstow to be a decent place with a few tolerable hotels, but after driving around the city for an hour, we decided that there was no way we were spending the night in this armpit. Erwin put it perfectly: "Dude, this looks like the town Dirk Diggler grew up in." Barstow did give us one experience, a burger at an In-N-Out. Anyone I've met who is from California or who has been to California raves about this place. In The Big Lebowski, Donny comments on the goodness of an In-N-Out burger. Honestly, it was good, but I don't see what the big damn deal is.

We got back on the interstate and after stopping at no less than 5 hotels (all completely full), we finally crashed at a mildly clean Travelodge in Victorville, CA. We were planning on a full day of driving on Thursday to get to Los Angeles, but ended up driving so far to find a hotel, we ended up less than two hours away. Oh well.

Day 2

2007-02-16T21:51:00.000-08:00

DAY 2

Day 2 of the trip began at 530am on Tuesday morning and we had the longest stretch of the trip ahead of us. The plan was to make it from Tulsa, OK to Williams, AZ in one day. After this day, I'm convinced that in order to correctly break in a car, you need the following ingredients: two un-showered dudes, 1000 miles of interstate, and two huge Denny's breakfasts to start the day. Gross. My Jeep will never be the same.

Driving across the state of Oklahoma made me realize a few things. First of all, Oklahoma does not have a whole lot going on. I know, I know, shocking right? Despite what you might think, it's kinda boring. This also might not surprise you, but there is a huge Native American influence all over the state. Unfortunately, this influence is most noticeable in advertising, particularly in billboards all along the interstate ("Chief Talking Horse say: Visit Rick Watkins Chevy, get zero percent finance, no down, no credit. He put you in new car today!"). We also noticed that every time an Indian is depicted in printed media, he is always in full warrior dress and is totally ripped. I mean, these guys all look like they could start at middle linebacker in the NFL. If everything I know of Native Americans came from local marketing in Oklahoma, I would be convinced that that whole gambling stereotype was a total myth (there's no way that's a casino, it's gotta be a gym!). I did, however, get to see something I've never seen before: a windfarm. I don't want to sound gay or nothing, but windfarms f'n rock. They're huge! Plus, it was really cool to see some little podunk town in the middle of nowhere embracing a technology like that.

ANYWAY, we pushed across Oklahoma and on through the panhandle of Texas.

This is the panhandle of Texas: whole lotta nothin'. The only interesting thing in the panhandle of Texas is the Big Texan restaurant in Amarillo. You know how when you drive from Atlanta to Jacksonville and you see billboards for Tifton, GA, like, a hundred miles away from Tifton, GA? Well, that's the way it is for the Big Texan in Amarillo. The difference is that instead of telling you how Tifton is the reading capital of the world or that it was voted one of the Top 100 small towns in the southeast with more than one Waffle House and at least four stoplights or some other bullshit, the Big Texan wants you to stop by and try to take down their world-famous 76-ounce steak. I'm not kidding, this is straight out The Great Outdoors with John Candy and Dan Akroyd. If you can eat an entire 76-oz. steak (with a dinner salad, nonetheless) in less than an hour, you get it free! Never in my life have I more wanted drunk Danny in the car with me. God, I want to see someone try this. Oh well, on to New Mexico.

Just so you know, New Mexico is awesome. Our whole time in the state was spent driving through snow-covered mountains with tons of interesting trees and shrubs and all kinds of cool stuff I'd never seen before. It's really pretty out there, and I wish that we could've spent some solid time on Route 66 in New Mexico (we did stop for lunch in Santa Rosa at the first of three restaurants named "The Original Route 66 Diner") but we had to stay on the interstate, saving our Route 66 time post Grand Canyon.

We caught a pretty cool sunset in New Mexico and crossed over to Arizona in the dark. The next day, we would find out that Arizona also kicks ass, and made us wish we could've seen the whole thing during the day.

When driving into Arizona at night, we obviously couldn't see much, but we did make a couple of observations. First of all, it's ALL uphill (our elevation for the entire trip peaked at the Arizona Divide in Flagstaff at 7330 feet). Second, Arizona is really good at naming things. We saw signs for towns named Two Guns and Twin Arrows, roads called Lone Tree, Transwestern, and Devil Dog. We drove over a bridge that crossed Canyon Diablo. Seriously, whoever headed up the geographic nomenclature division of the Arizona state government deserves a freakin' medal.

Allow myself to introduce...myself to the "blogosphere"

2007-02-13T21:22:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone. Well, this is my first attempt at publishing "ideas" and "thoughts" and "stories" to the information superhighway. Until now, I believed that everyone who created these things all fell under one of the following three categories: 1) Recently married young brides who are eager to share with the world how happy they are with their new, grown-up lives 2) Commentators who have the ability to consistently come up with original and interesting thoughts on politics, music, art, etc... 3) People who are funny. Now, if you are taking the time to read this, then it's safe to assume that you already know me very well. That being said, you probably also know that I fall under none of the aforementioned categories; I'm a pretty generic dude and this is really just a way for me to share the goings-on of my life now that I have moved clear across the country to San Francisco, CA. So here goes:

ROAD TRIP: DAY 1

My buddy Erwin and I took off from Atlanta Monday morning the 5th by leaving later than planned because Matt was feeling sick and we had to wait for the Target on N.Druid Hills to open up to buy medicine. I instantly realized that I was about to spend roughly the next 180 hours of my life breathing the same air as someone who just came down with a raging case of the sniffles. Perfect. We finally hit the road at 9:00am, my belly filled with the most delicious Chik-Fil-A chicken biscuit I've ever had in my life. I know this because it was the first time I could truly appreciate the future rarity of such a tasty breakfast treat. But ANYWAY, we hit the road.

The first day was rather uneventful. Anyone whose ever spent any time driving around the Southeast knows exactly what we saw. Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, and on to Tulsa, OK. 13 hours, 800+ miles, and 5 states down, not a bad start. We stopped in Tulsa, OK, where we would spend the night with my buddy from Arkansas who had recently moved there with his wife and 5-month old son. I know, I know, what a wild and crazy way to kick off a cross-country road trip; crashing with a married couple and newborn. Look out for these guys! It was good to catch up with an old friend, though.

Day 1 was really only highlighted by seeing what I will always think of as the Southeast's largest scrap yard, rural Alabama. I'm positive that the most popular hobby in the state is the collection of rusted heavy machinery: cranes, bulldozers, and farm equipment are by far the most popular choices.