The Department of Useless and Ill-Informed Opinions

Quick Hits

Some short thoughts:

• It's a damn good thing that I prefer cocktail onions in my martinis. Special thanks to the city of Chicago for providing me with the first link when I Googled for a story here.
• Here's what I want to know on this one: What the hell was the final straw? The man's been arrested countless times (only countless because I'm too lazy to find the actual number), gone through drug and alcohol addiction, and so on. At which point did Whitney poke her head up and decide enough was enough? What else could he have done?
• I hate reality TV. I mean, hate it. And along with hating it, this is just too funny. When I first heard about this show, I thought to myself, "Supernova? I love these guys! Are they associated with this crap-box of a show?" Turns out, no. On the upside, I've been listening to 'Ages 3 & Up' again for the first time in years.
• Eddie Izzard on 24? Not that I was going to miss the return of the invincible Jack Bauer before, but Izzard? Can I setup the record on my DVR now?
• And finally, was there maybe a chance that this could have happened before George Bush took his spill? If I had to guess, Segway's board of directors are Democrats.

How The Fuck Does a 30 Year Old Man End Up Playing Spin The Bottle?

I suppose at least it wasn't with teenagers, but with fellow "adults"...

I've honestly been debating for the past two days whether or not I even wanted to talk about this. It's sort of embarrassing. Fuck it.

Thursday night is my regular dodgeball night. Seriously, dodgeball. It's not so much a chance to get some fun-filled exercise as it is an excuse to meet new people and go drinking. I used to play on Wednesdays, and we drank less then. The crowd was a little different and we played in a different neighborhood, and I guess that's why it was a little more sedate. That, and it was a Wednesday night. But Thursday night seems to be a wilder and rowdier night, I guess since nobody gives a shit about work on Fridays. It's the best coasting day there is.

So we drink... And lately, it's grown from just drinking. Used to be we had a handful of beers each, hung out, listened to some music, chatted folks up, and went home. Now we're all buying pitchers. Last season, my team started playing Quarters at whatever table we were sitting at. Innocent enough. I can handle some low-key drinking games. During last season's playoff night (which I missed, because I was in Lisbon on vacation), it was reported back to me that the pool table was covered with a sheet of wood and a Flip Cup tournament was begun. By the time this new season had begun, after a 7 week break, the pool table at the bar was covered for us before we even got there (thereby pissing off the regulars of the bar mightily). Flip Cup I can handle, too. It's fun and gets everyone in a good mood.

But somehow, people got bored during Flip Cup this week. I took a quick bathroom break in between games, and when I came out there was now an empty beer bottle being spun at the center of the table, and a bunch of the regular FC'ers had backed off (though plenty also stayed), replaced with other people from the league. Yes, kids, they were playing Spin The Bottle. Spin The Fucking Bottle. Jesus, we'd reverted to our pre-teen and teen years.

I only have one distinct memory of playing Spin The Bottle as a kid, at a party at someone's house, after the parents had left us alone, and I'm pretty sure the bottle never actually landed on me. And the funny thing is that from time to time, when I think about the things that teenagers do, I realize that somehow I missed out on a decent amount of it. And more often than not, Spin The Bottle is on that list.

So what did I do, this supposedly mature 30 year old adult? Well, let's combine my latent regret about the things I neglected to participate in as a kid with the amount of beer I'd drunk at this point (a couple of pints with friends after work, a couple of nasty tall-boy cans in between dodgeball matches, and I-have-no-idea-how-many cups of beer at the bar) with the fact that I am, as per the norm, single. What would you have done? Damned fucking right I played.

A few friends played with me, but it was mostly new people for me, so I guess I made some new friends. I'm certainly intimate, or more intimate than before anyway, with a handful of new people.

But here's the funny thing for me... When you're 13 and play STB, it was an act of discovery (since you're just recognizing that the opposite sex isn't quite as cootie-licious as you previously thought) and an act of rebellion (since our parents would have been happy if we continued to think as we'd once thought, and we knew it). But when you're 30 and play, the discovery is long gone. Nobody there experienced any new sensations or performed any acts they never had before, even if it was new people. But it was still an act of rebellion, only now against The Man. Here's a bunch of mostly-corporate people sitting in a bar on a weeknight and playing games once reserved for the young and naive. It was a big middle finger to convention, the one that says we're supposed to be mature and adult. It was a beer-filled step up from Flip Cup and Quarters, a bar packed with grown-ups playing like we were kids once again, even if for an hour or two.

I don't know, maybe I'm putting too much thought into this from a sociological standpoint. You can bet everyone else that night went home and never had a second thought about it. But you can also bet that they didn't say a word to friends or co-workers on Friday morning when they got to work, too ashamed to admit the transgression, if you could actually call it that. I suspect it's going to continue as a late-night element of dodgeball nights, once the FC games die down. I'm going to be curious to see how things continue to escalate though... We went from just drinking to Quarters to Flip Cup to Spin The Bottle. I'm not dumb enough to think that this bar is going to let people go too, too far, but I'm going to be on the lookout for the first person who says "Hey everyone, let's continue this shit at my place."

Here's the better, more directly personal question though: If it happens again next Thursday, as I think it will, am I going to participate again? Cold, sober logic on a Saturday afternoon says no. But let's see how my thinking turns after I start smuggling a bunch of Bud Light in my belly.

Not Quite Dry

Is it somehow wrong that I feel the urge to drink more while reading Dry? Is it worse that I actually do?

Cheers.

Hamtastic

I figure I've had just about the right amount of booze tonight to make for some decent writing.

It's something I've both talked about and pondered quite heavily, this idea that my writing improves when I drink. I don't know if that speaks better or worse for me as a writer... Some of our finest writers have been world-class drunks. What occurs to me at times, and quite honestly, scares the shit out of me, is this abstract concept that some day I might write for a living. As in be paid for it. And I wonder how much alcohol I might have to ingest on a daily basis in order to be productive. I mean, are we talking about potential liver damage here?

Meh.

I'm sitting here listening to what is quite honestly the most random On-The-Go Playlist for my iPod that I've ever come up with: a random mix of Jawbox (R.I.P.) and They Might Be Giants, everything I have ripped to the iPod from each band. It's totally illogical, but I wanted to go see J. Robbins in a new side band called Report Suspicious Activity last week and missed it, and I somehow got a random TMBG song stuck in the brain.

Point being... Well I have no point. It's a Thursday night, and I just got done watching Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey for some random reason. Suffice it to say, though, that it'll end up talked about here sooner or later.

I did learn a new phrase today: hamthropologist.

Holy shit. If this isn't a career goal to strive, I don't know what is.

My doctor and the meds I take might disagree though.

Guinness = Good; Guinness Believer Events = Bad

Back in April, I had the distinct pleasure of attending an event called a Guinness Believer Event. Basically, it's a tasting thing, sponsored by the company. The only thing is that it wasn't a tasting event like you'd normally see, for a wine or a scotch. I've gone to other such events, like for Glenlivet, where it's refined and you taste fine scotches in small pours. Sure, they get you drunk for free still, but it's a much more distinguished drunkeness. The Guinness Believer Event was an all-out booze-fest. They truck in a host, Dave Kerpen from Fox's Paradise Hotel (DaveKerpen.com / DaveBoston.com), who proceeds top get a little loaded with the crowd whole exhorting the virtues of Guiness (and Smithwick's and Harp too). It was a rowdy, fun night, and the good people at Guinness got you good and fucked up.

Not anymore.

I went to another Guinness Believer event tonight, and while waiting on line to get in, everyone there had either been before or had a friend who did, and we were all looking forward to a Thursday night of free Guinness. Upon entering, you're given a ticket, like a carnival ride ticket. Said ticket entitles you to one pint of Guinness. And that's it. You then get to sit there for an hour and listen to Dave's same speech from before, but now once yopu finish your single pint, you're done.

There were promises of more beer, but honestly we didn't stay to find out. We took off about halfway through, figuring we could have spent the $6 on a pint somewhere else instead.

The story goes, so someone told a table-mate of ours, that the Legal Department over at Guinness had expressed concern about the levels of drunkeness that had gone down at previous Believer events. We're assuming that the concern has something to do with drinking and driving, or perhaps even, let's say, unwanted and overzealous advances going on at the event. Either way, supposedly each attendee is limited to two beers at an event, with the option to purchase additional pints on the cheap ($3, so we heard) after the little speech is over.

On the little comment card that was handed out, when asked what my favorite part of the night was I wrote "The near-total lack of Guinness." When asked what could be done to improve future Guinness Believer Events, I responded "Serve Guinness."

Now, I'm not bitching, too heavily anyway. I understand that these guys don't want to get sued, and I honestly can't blame them. Sure, I was disappointed tonight, since I could have just gone to any corner pub and drank to my heart's content, even if that would have cost me some money.

I'm writing this as a warning: If any of your friends or co-workers tell you about this great Guinness Believer night that they went to a few months back, and suggest you go so you can get good and toasted for free, skip it. Strictly from a beers/hour averaging system it's not worth your time. You'd do better finding a cheap happy hour, and if you find one in NYC, pass it along.

A Vast Bisquick Conspiracy

...or perhaps it's the Aunt Jemina people. Maybe more sinister is if they're in it together.

Either way we had a little maple syrup issue here last week. I know that I was out that night and smelled it, but because I was a touch on the drunk side I only vaguely realized it, but got home seriously craving pancakes.

Which is exactly what I had for breakfast the next morning. So all was well.

Lots changes in a year, and it's been 367 days since I last wrote here. I've got a new job (and as a result have only been on 3 trips all year, only 1 of which was for business), new apartment (down the hall from the old one, but no more leaky ceilings), and... well not much else that's new. But apartment and job are pretty much everything, right?

I also have another book under my belt, and am winding down the second draft of that second book. And because November hits tomorrow at midnight, and also because I'm sick of editing for the moment and am craving something new, I'll give NaNoWriMo another crack this year, hoping to make it 3 out of 3 successful completions. The hope is that over the past 2 years I've grown as a writer, and this will potentially prove that.

I have an idea I've been sitting on, not for very long really, but sitting on it I've been doing. It requires what I consider to be some pretty significant research to do properly, and I've really only told 2 or 3 people about the idea. I have all of my research materials ready to go, and I've started doing some. But it don't be this year's NaNo Novel. For one thing, I'm just not ready from a preparedness standpoint to start on it tomorrow night. And for another, I don't think I'm good enough to do it justice. I once read how Kevin Smith thought up the idea for Dogma years before it was done, even before Clerks, but that he knew if he tried it earlier on it would've failed miserably (a view some people have of the actual 1999 version too for that matter). I'm sort of taking that view with my Big Idea. It'll come, just not for a while.

Usually I prep up a project fairly heavily. No research, because to be honest, I've been too lazy in the past. But I get the plot mapped out and get the characters named and all that good stuff. Well right now, it's 30 hours until NaNo 2005, and I've got dick. I thought I had the thing idea set for this year, but this morning I woke up and decided it was overindulgent and just plain shitty. Not to mention boring. So today I've gone through various notes and crap for concepts I've dreamt up over the past few years, and I have 4 of them (out of 5 that existed) written on an index card each.

Four unique ideas. And I've been staring at these fucking things, spread out on my coffee table, for a good part of the day. I'm lost like Hurley on an island over here.

I hoped that if I worked on perfecting my Bloody Mary recipe today, it might have spurred me into some creativity. All I am now is low on vodka, and with a cabinet full of shit I didn't own before, like Tabasco and Worcestershire.

For the time being, I'm sitting here getting pissed off because my fucking remote won't stop lighting up, and it's been driving me batshit for 2 days now. There's some excuse, no?

Anyway, inspirato will hit sometime tonight or tomorrow. Or that's the plan anyway. And if it doesn't, I can always run down the block to Cork & Bottle for more Maker's Mark.

So, sometime way back, because way back is all that exists around here with a lack of updates for a year, I promised I'd devise a theme for here and maybe stop talking about myself. No such luck for now. I tried politics, but that's become amazingly infuriating, since at least for the moment the seemingly real bad guys continue to get away with everything and anything, while guys like Scooter Libby, who I've nicknamed The Fall Guy (and in no way am claiming him to be the good guy here) go down for it. But I'll say that GWB is having a real shitty run of things the past couple of months. He could really use a vacation. But politics morphed into baseball, specifically pro-Red Sox/anti-Yankees stuff somehow.

And that was where I threw in the towel. I'd still like to talk about politics. And baseball for that matter, especially since my Mets have a great opportunity to build on success over the next few years (even if I have to listen to Willie say things like "Yeah, it's got a lot of meat!").

Regardless, here's hoping I'm back to this thing. And more importantly that I find something valuable to write about, both here and in the new book.

Minor League Baseball Week continues...

Before this week, I'd never been to a minor league baseball game. Now I've been to two in a span of five days. Thursday night brought us to Coney Island, where Mike & I had dinner at the original Nathan's (along with a $4 beer that had to have been 32 oz.) followed by a Brooklyn Cyclones game at KeySpan Park. In case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a baseball freak, and I'll pretty much go to any game at any time. But it was particularly cool to see the Mets of tomorrow.

For such a baseball fan, I had had only ever been to two MLB parks prior to
last spring, Shea & Yankee Stadiums. Today I'm at four, having been to
Network Associates Coliseum last spring for an A's game and the SkyDome a
few weeks ago in Toronto. With the massive amount of business travel that's
coming for me though, I stand to increase to six by the first week of
August. The Red Sox are at home when I'll be in Boston (though I have
tickets for a Red/White Sox game at Fenway later in August) & the Devil Rays
will be in Tampa as well (against the Red Sox oddly enough). Not to mention
that if I catch an Edmonton Trappers (Montreal AAA affiliate) while there
I'll have hit four minor league games this summer (seeing one in Vancouver a
week from today).

Now, "big shit" you say. And I agree. My intention is for that to be the
last of the droning "here's what I did this week" posts. They're
self-indulgent and egotistical, assuming that at least a few of you reading
this are complete strangers. This blog was started for me to discuss my
mental state while writing, and that stopped becoming the focus some time
ago. I don't think that I intend to go back to a 'writer's journal' sort of
format, but I want this to be something more.

I think I see this evolving into a commentary site. Not about baseball,
because that's what the main pages are to become here. I think it'll be
commentary on what I think about the world and all that. Politics, TV,
movies, books. And probably sports too, I can't get away from it. I also
intend to include a nice running log of the stupid shit that I do. I'll try
not to do the 'my week in review' bullshit anymore, and while I'm sure
pieces of it will seep in, I'll try to use it all in context & make it
relevant.

That being said, let's kick it off with a Stupid Jordan story:

We'll take this back to last Sunday, as a few of us were having dinner at
Arthur's in Hoboken, which if you don't know of it it's a great dive of a
steak joint, after the Newark Bears game. It was a day of sun and beer and
now steak, and of course my hangover from the night before. As we walked
outside onto the street after dinner, Mike & the others were discussing one
of those old food-related challenges/bets that guys have when they're
younger. This one was 'You Can't Eat Six Saltines In One Minute Or Less". No
water during. Just eat six of them, and show your empty mouth before the
minute ticks itself out.

They're talking about each of their attempts at it over the years, all
unsuccessful. I didn't do anything so bold as to volunteer or say I could do
it, or even call them pussies for not being able to do it themselves. I
simply said: "I don't see what's so hard about that."

Now I said it with no intent, not wanting to try it for myself. I just said
it to say it. But the gauntlet was thrown. We found the nearest bar to try
it at.

It turns out that there are actual methodologies to this, namely whole or
broken crackers. I went the broken route, thinking that it'd be easier this
way.

Wrong. One minute thirty.

The conversation for the rest of the afternoon turned to more food bets, and
how most of what sounded cool & funny at 20 just sounds gross now, like two
dozen Krispy Kremes in an hour. I can feel my arteries clogging with donut-y
goodness just thinking about it.

Next time though, I'm switching to the whole-cracker method.

-Jordan

The big edit hasn't begun

The big edit hasn't begun as of yet. I really have absolutely nothing of worth to say today (this assumes that some of my earlier updates did have something of worth). But I'm at work today, and it's slow... So very fucking slow. I came in because today seemed like a waste of a vacation day, which it would have been. I'm leaving in about an hour & a half. Today wasn't bad. Wednesday really sucked. Not because we were busy, but because I was hungover and had to drag myself in for 2 hours. I came in basically to eat breakfast & then go home. Hung over.

I have to say that yesterday was a great day. Since pretty much everything is closed (except the movies & Chinese takeout) on Christmas Day, I figured I was screwed. But it turned out that the local Friday's was open, so my friend Jason & I went there and got loaded. Fun, and productive. Then last night I got to watch Games 6 and 7 of the 1986 World Series. Two of the greatest nights of my life, relived periodically on the MSG Network. I still get shivers whenever I hear Vin Scully yelling "It gets through Buckner!" The entire exchange went like this:
"So the winning run is at second base with two out. Three-and-two to Mookie Wilson. . . . A little roller up along first . . . behind the bag . . . it gets through Buckner! Here comes Knight! And the Mets win it!"
Fantastic. The Bob Murphy radio call is better (with the variation "It gets by Buckner!"), but I was 10 years old and watching the game on TV. So as much as I prefer Murphy's call, it was Scully's that I got to hear. Somewhere at home I have a CD that I got on a promo night at Shea Stadium a couple of years ago that has great TV & radio calls from games. I'll have to dig that out. Maybe it has both Game 6 calls, and I'll toss them up here (since I couldn't find a link anywhere to sound clips of either of them).

Anyway, back to "work".

Jordan