Touchdown My Pants: The 5th Day of Giftmas 2009

Touchdown My Pants: The 5th Day of Giftmas 2009

There are a lot of things in my life that I’m more proud of than I probably should be. Being able to diagnose my own injuries without seeing a doctor; knowing what porn sites contain viruses and pop ups; and being able to tell the difference between the Jonas Brothers to name a few. At the top of the list, however, is my fantasy football prowess.

For those of you who don’t know what fantasy football is, it’s basically D&D for people who make fun of the people who play D&D. We make our own team of NFL players and score points based on how well they perform each week. See, it’s totally different. And then we talk shit about our teams to each other like we had something to do with their success. It’s the last refuge of the unathletic. And it works with almost 100% success. Whereas you used to have to be athletic to brag about your sporting prowess, now you can stay connected by studying real athletes on the internet and television. Congratulations, America.

But this season marks a first. Touchdown My Pants (my fantasy team) won the fantasy championship which means I will actually get money for all the hours I poured into studying these real athletes. And so Jen and I went to Outback last night and I splurged on the 12 oz. rather than the 9 oz. that I normally get. It was still just meat loaf, but I was content. And we cheersed each other and proclaimed loudly “Here’s to Touchdown My Pants!” An elderly couple near us turned red. Three guys at the table across from us bought us a couple shots. The waitress gave us a free dessert. Thank you, Joshua Cribbs for your timely kickoff returns.

Re-Quote of the Day 12/21/06

“Fantasy football is like Dungeons & Dragons for guys who used to make fun of Dungeons & Dragons in high school.”

-Dave Bradshaw

He admittedly stole this from a comedian, but we can’t think of who, so Dave gets a point for now.

Ho-ho!

Santa’s ding-dong.

Still Standing Right Here…

Death by Kitten: The 4th Day of Giftmas 2009

Death by Kitten: The 4th Day of Giftmas 2009

This is an actual sentence I said last week.

“Hey Keith, my kitten ate Jen’s roses and puked all over your invitation. Could you give me directions to your baby shower again?”

I’m going to table the fact that I attended a coed baby shower for a little while so I can introduce you to the reason I show up to work with scratches all over my forearms and face. That would be Poe, the little kitten that I decided to plague our perfect happy home with. She’s apparently a “Russian Blue” breed, which is odd since she’s completely grey. And her eyes are yellow. And she’s from Jessup.

So I’m not necessarily a cat person at all. Which is another way of saying I’m straight. And yet, some impulse I had made the decision to add another cat to our 11th floor apartment.

Oh yeah. We already have another cat. Oh, and I moved in with Jen. There. Now you’re caught up.

So the main problem isn’t with the kitten, but it’s with her interaction with the 22-pound beast which Jen keeps trying to convince me is a cat. See, Poe likes to play and Sweetie (fat cat) is old and prefers to lay there and be left alone. Well, anytime Sweetie gets up to go anywhere, Poe will run behind her, jumping and swatting at her tail the entire way like it was a toy. As you can imagine, this pisses off the big cat. Especially when trying to use the litter box. As soon as Poe hears the scratching of the litter, she goes running after her. So what this caused is that now, Sweetie feels so much anxiety over going to the litter box, she will more often than not, shit on the wood floor. This does not make me happy. But think about it. If every time you went to the bathroom to crap, your little sister would hit you in the ass, wouldn’t you just do it wherever the heck you were at the time?

Anyway, an unfortunate side effect to this is that dried poop seems to be the most fun toy in the world to the kitten, provided there’s no chapstick available. So occasionally, we’ll move the couch to find a few pieces of dried, hardened Sweetie poop. It’s a sad life to have accepted for the three of us that aren’t Poe. I wish whatever part of me said “I’m not a cat guy” had spoken up louder back in April.

C is For Cookie: The 3rd Day of Giftmas 2009

C is For Cookie: The 3rd Day of Giftmas 2009

This batch of cookies that I made for my class in an effort to bribe, err… thank them – wasn’t my first. Nor my best. Nor were they even really mine. How much ownership am I allowed to take for opening a batch of cookie dough and heating it up in the oven? I was merely a vessel for Tollhouse to get their cookies to my class. They deserve any positive evaluations that I get as a result. I’ll make sure to put that in my end of the year report.

Anyway, I first brought my cookies to the UB campus last December in an inadvertent cookie-baking contest between me and the Dean of Students. In an evite, I declined entering the chili cook-off but I would happily join (create) a cookie-baking contest. It was innocent enough to start. It was really just my way of bowing out of the chili contest and letting the party know I wasn’t just free-loading free chili. Well, then the trash talking started. And apparently, Kathy (the aforementioned Dean of Students) can bake some nasty borderline-addictive Christmas Cookies. Oops. Too late to back out now. Coworkers heard of this and started to talk trash on her behalf. “Your cookies better have crack cocaine in them if you want them to have a chance.” Well, they did not. In fact, my special “Christmas Cookies” had exactly whatever Nestle told me they should have and in those exact proportions. I just put red & green M&Ms in them so I could call them “Christmas Cookies.”

Not only were my Christmas Cookies outmatched and unoriginal, but they also weren’t even really Christmas Cookies, according to one co-worker…

The 3rd Day of Giftmas 2009

“Putting M&Ms in your cookies doesn’t make them Christmas Cookies, it makes them Pedophile Cookies.”

- John Chapin

We all celebrate in our own way.

Sticking to the original recipe,

Doughboy.


Still Standing Right Here…

Class Dismissed: The 2nd Day of Giftmas 2009

Class Dismissed: The 2nd Day of Giftmas 2009

So in a strangely trusting and possibly incompetent decision, someone somewhere in the University of Baltimore thought it would be a good idea to let me teach a class. And not like UMBC did when I taught badminton and duck pin bowling. This was a freshman seminar class called “Applied Learning and Study Skills.” Before you put a stop payment on your tuition check, I was team teaching this class with Katie. She was going to be responsible for all the course content and I was to make sure we had enough dry erase markers in the classroom. This was going to be even easier than coming up with a syllabus for badminton.

Long story short, Katie quit the week before class started, leaving all the course content to me. Thankfully, I had already taken care of the dry erase marker situation, so there was one less thing to worry about. I made a promise to them earlier in the year that I was going to make them cookies. It was my way of saying “Thank you for pretending I was a real teacher for the entire semester.” But the next thing I realized, it was final time. So I had to make them cookies on the same day that I had to give them the class evaluations. Coincidence? I’ll tell you one thing I learned from being a waiter. Make sure you do your best ass-kissing right as you give them the check. I call it the “Waking Ned Devine” principle. Good Joe and I saw this movie about ten years ago and the movie sucked, but had a great last five minutes. We left the theater and Joe actually said “Wow, that movie was awesome!” I informed him that the movie was indeed not awesome, but just had a good last five minutes. To this, he lost the excitement in his voice, dropped his shoulders, started to frown, and replied "Hey... you're right." I’m hoping that I performed a good enough misdirection with the cookies and the collaborative final. “What? You didn’t learn anything and feel completely unprepared for college? No, look over here! Those are M&Ms in the cookies. Yummmmm!”

So one of my students was working on the in-class final that I gave. She was having trouble with the assignment and said something eerily similar to an old classic quote…

The 2nd Day of Giftmas 2009

“Jeez. I have to study to study.”

- Ave

Now where have I heard that before?

The professor of fun,

Duck Pin Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here…

Rubbing One Out: The 1st Day of Giftmas

Rubbing One Out: The 1st Day of Giftmas

Well, I got pleasantly surprised by my first Giftmas present last night. Jen forced me to meet her downtown after work and on our 15-minute walk there, I guessed about 47 wrong answers, including the Harlem Globetrotters, a Krispy Kreme tour and a couple’s therapist. Before I knew it, I was being led into a room and being told to take my clothes off. I was really hoping it wasn’t the Krispy Kreme tour.

So anyway, this was my first professional massage and I really wish I had prepared maybe a little better. I hadn’t shaved my back in a few months and I was down to my last pair of boxers before laundry day, thankfully still on their first rotation. They were clean, but old and possibly stained. I’m not sure. I just threw them away after the session was over.

I was honestly a little nervous. Thankfully I hadn’t eaten any cheese all day, which was good news for everybody. Jen and I were getting an hour-long massage together. The masseuses came in and though it was dark, I could tell hers was a muscular foreign guy and mine was an attractive foreign girl. Jen was underneath a sheet the entire time. I had a washcloth over my ass. I was praying that I didn’t get a noticeable erection. At first. By the end, I was a little upset that I didn’t. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on Yuliya’s part. Or mine. Apparently, you get yelled at for shoving your finger up your ass during a massage. But you don’t get kicked out like you do at Mid-Atlantic Physical Therapy. And there was no happy ending either. At least not until about an hour later. When we went out for sushi. Then had sex.

So the massage ended and we both shamefully toweled off and proceeded not to make eye contact with one another for the next 10 minutes. I went to the bathroom, which thankfully had a sign saying “Employees Must Wash Their Hands Before Returning to Work.” That seems like agood company practice. On the way out, they gave us their business cards and schedules. And I guess it’s not standard practice since Yuliya didn’t do it, but Jen’s guy put his cell phone number on there. And directions to his house. But I doubt that means anything.

Lying still and thinking about baseball,

The massaganist.


Still Standing Right Here…

The Jimmy Johnson Corollary

The Jimmy Johnson Corollary

So apparently, Jimmy Johnson is a complete idiot. I’m talking about the coach, not the racecar driver, though I don’t imagine it takes a brain surgeon to drive counterclockwise for a living. I never thought that anyone who coached the biggest thug franchise in college football and the biggest thug era of pro football would be the smartest guy in the world, but I didn’t know until a week ago that he was a complete idiot. I was so happy that somebody finally broke out statistics related to Bill Belichick’s decision rather than just cry about their feelings and what everybody else would have probably done. Here are the stats that he gave, though I don’t know exactly where he got his info from.

• Tom Brady converts 4th and 2 77% of the time.


• Peyton Manning scores from 70 yards in under 2 minutes 33% of the time.


• Peyton scores from 30 yards in under 2 minutes 58% of the time.

After the piece he did, I was happy to see logic and numbers introduced. And then, in an amazing feat of idiocy in the face of undeniable proof to the contrary – exposed by he himself with the stats he brought up – he used those numbers to say that Belichick should have punted.

What?

Even if Peyton scored every time from 30 yards out and never from 70 yards away, there was still a 77% chance of that decision succeeding. Again, I won’t even consider blocked punts, punt returns, muffs or fumbles. As long as Brady ran the ball for three plays and then punted in the context of the game, Peyton would have had to go 70 yards (or more) in about 30 seconds. If Brady didn’t get another first down. And this doesn’t even consider how poorly the defense was playing at that point in the game.

Anyway, I’m done talking about this now. I just wish somebody out there in the media was smart enough to point out the fundamental flaws in the rest of the media. God, I can’t wait to get famous.

The Belichick Contradiction

The Belichick Contradiction

There’s been a lot of rhetoric from people who are paid (overpaid) too spew opinions by the pound about Bill Belichick’s decision to go for it on 4th and 2 late in the game against the Colts, and it has reaffirmed my distaste for the self-proclaimed experts in the media, whether it’s the actual media or the facebook and twitter make-pretend media. I can respect an opinion when backed up by facts, but facts have been few and far between in this all-too-typical assault on a decision that didn’t work out. And what annoys me further is the effect it has on the greater public, reaffirming my belief that the average American will swallow whatever pill the media hands them.

So let me interject some logic into this debate, if you all don’t mind. First of all, let me isolate this decision. No talk of time outs, bad spots or bobbled catches. In order to do this, you need to do something most people can’t, and that is to disregard the result of the play. As Ron Jaworski said, it’s easy to claim you knew it all along with access to the results. If they get the first down and win the game, wasn’t it the same decision that most of the media is calling the dumbest decision ever made in the NFL? I guarantee that’s not the way it would be written by the same reporters. That’s what is known as the hindsight bias, and everybody is guilty of it, never more evident than with this situation. It’s what we tell ourselves (and others) after an event to make us feel smarter. After the Phillies won the NLCS, radio talk shows in Philly were buzzing with confidence about how we were going to show the Yankees who are the real Sultans of Swat in the MLB. And a week later, after losing the series 4-2, the same talk shows were buzzing with callers saying they knew that we could never beat the Yankees because they have too much firepower. The same talk shows. Probably the same callers too.

In addition to the hindsight bias, I have heard a lot of incomplete arguments. Everyone talks about the position he puts the defense in if they don’t get the 2 yards (which is what happened). And what of the position he puts the team in if they get it? Also, punting the ball is not a victory. Not by any means. And the defense was still, as defined by the rules of the game, allowed to try to stop them from the 29 yard line too. The media argues one side of a coin like lawyers trying to win a case rather than philosophers trying to find truth.

OK. It’s logic time. They go for it on 4th and 2. Unconventional, yes – but under Tom Brady, the Pats have converted 75% of their 4th down attempts (and also put up over 450 yards on the Colts that day) and the league averages around 65% on 4th and short. So there’s about a 65 – 75% chance you basically win the game on one play. The chance that Peyton Manning will drive the ball 29 yards in under two minutes to score? The league success percentage on scoring TDs in the last 2:00 is around 30%, but given that the Colts have Peyton and the New England defense looked tired in the 4th quarter, let’s make it a liberal 65 – 75%. 75% of 25% is about 18%. So the decision Belichick made had a success ratio of somewhere in the neighborhood of 82%. Assuming the punt doesn’t get blocked, run back or muffed (because those things never happen), the punt forces the Colts to drive 70 yards in under two minutes using only one time out. Something they had done not just once, but twice in the 4th quarter of that very game. You think that success ratio is higher than 18%? I would wager it is. But whether it is or not, it’s not so absurd to be called stupid. Ah, the power of practical thinking.Some Belichick haters showed their bias in writing that he only made that decision to show off to the league and that is one of the stupidest arguments I’ve ever heard. He is a head football coach trying to win a game, not run up the score. He was not basing his decision on bravado and anybody who sincerely thinks that is an idiot. He has a philosophy and people are just pissed off because it usually works. Teddy Bruschi and Rodney Harrison were offended as defensive players and said the defense should be offended. Offended that he didn’t give them the opportunity to let the Colts drive 70 yards on them again? They could have stopped them in 29 yards and shut everybody up and been the heroes. Belichick made the tough decision that – if it didn’t work out (which it didn’t) – would have obviously not been the popular one in the media, and I personally applaud him for it. He doesn’t need to apologize to his team for making “the wrong” decision, just because it didn’t work out. The arrogance people claim that is Bill Belichick is very obviously reflected back on the haters and short-sighted reporters who claim that they knew this wouldn’t work. Of course you knew it. It didn’t work so you must have.

Behold the power of practical thinking,

Dustin Flutie.


Still Standing Right Here…

Operation Vegetarian: Week Four (& a half)

Operation Vegetarian: Week Four (& a half)

So the last week felt a little like a sham, since I’d already decided that cheating was legal. But I figure there’s some valor in finishing it out even after cheating once. That’s coincidentally the same approach my last girlfriend took with our relationship. And I also feel that there’s some sense of accomplishment in publicly writing about it and post-dating it even months after it actually happened. Again, same as my ex.

Anyway, I finished out the veggie diet with the Saturday caveat for 31 days – though Danielle said that my diet of Chips Ahoy, PBJ and mac n cheese is probably more like a toddler diet than a vegetarian diet. I went the entire last week eating more free food, as this was the first actual week of classes. Free pancakes and muffins in the morning and free pizza (real pizza – not stupid white pizza) in the afternoon. The highlight of the week was definitely our trip to Olive Garden to get the neverending pasta bowl. In fact, it was so good, we did it twice. And I had leftovers both times. So I basically ate the penne with five-cheese marinara four days in a row.

Jen and I decided to cheat this week by eating Dim Sum. Dim Sum is apparently an Asian word for brunch. And if you’ve never had it, it’s very intimidating. I’m still not actually sure what I ate. Simon ordered it all for me and thank God he was there. If not for him, I’d have probably just drank a cup of hot water and walked out. People are walking around with food I’ve never seen speaking a version of broken English I can’t understand and I have no idea how to order, eat or pay for the food. I don’t know what is supposed to go with what or whether or not they’ll fart in my food if I use a fork and put ketchup on everything. I already had a strike against me as I wasn’t already Asian when I walked in. So Dim Sum was an interesting experience and in any other situation, not worth breaking my vegetarian diet for.

And so ends my vegetarian experience. As I now have the benefit of hindsight, I can say that I learned very little from the experience. Actually, that’s not true at all. What I learned is that not everyone is made to be a vegetarian. And for some reason, meals aren’t cheaper just because they don’t have meat in them. Which I think is bullshit, but as I’m no longer buying strictly vegetarian, good for me. I also found that if I’m going to try to put myself on a diet ever again, next time I’m going to do a bit more research and find a healthy one, not just an easy one. I never weighed myself again so I have no idea if I lost weight, but that was never really a goal of mine anyway. What I have decided is that I’m going to try to make sure I don’t eat red meat more than once a day. And I guess that’s good. But according to Joe’s mom, that’s the only real meat anyway. “Oh, Dustin’s a vegetarian now? Well, I guess I’ll just make some chicken instead.” And I’m not kidding. Welcome back, meat. I’ve missed you.

Operation Vegetarian: Week Three

Operation Vegetarian: Week Three

I’m brilliant. Jen had questioned me after stating in that last entry that we had decided to do the vegetarian thing for only a month rather than the originally intended 6 weeks. She called me a sissy and a quitter and said I was spending more time watching football than with her. All this is actually probably true. However, I was able to convince her that it was her idea that we should only do it for a month. This is a technique I had come up with after years of working with Gary at UMBC and perfected out in Ohio with Ruchelle. I will not reveal just yet how it is done, but suffice to say, I was able to watch more football that night.

And that’s another reason I really wanted to shorten it to a month. Football season is just around the corner and if I can shorten this sentence to 31 days with good behavior, I’ll be out in time for the first weekend of football. And yes, I imagine that being forced to eat like a vegetarian is a lot like being incarcerated. Except for criminals can eat meat.

Day Fifteen (Monday): Back to the ole slave and grind. I had PBJ and cupcakes for Dunchfest. For those unfamiliar with the term “Dunchfest,” it’s a term generally reserved for college students, though I have been living like one since 1993 anyway. It’s what I call my one-meal-a-day meal. It combines all three meals in the title and makes it sound a lot more fun that it is. “Hey, anybody want to go to Dunchfest with me?” “Sure! Can I borrow somebody’s tent?”

Day Sixteen (Tuesday): Jen decided to try cooking again tonight. She made this rice, corn and vegetable medley that, despite how bland it may sound, tasted even blander. I mean, I could recognize the textures of the different items for the most part, but it was almost like these vegetables were scientifically grown in a taste vacuum. On the plus side, Jen once again realized she needed meat in her regular diet. Or at least flavor.

Day Seventeen (Wednesday): Pizza and fries for Dunchfest. This time was a little disappointing though, because the guy at Orioles actually finally recognized us and quoted our order to us. “Large pepperoni, large fries?” Man, we’re finally regulars and now I gotta go and fuck with the order. And for some reason, I felt an explanation to this guy was in order. Like we now shared a bond since he knew our order. He was remarkably unimpressed with my month-long attempt at vegetarianism and told me he wouldn’t give up meat for no bitch. I’m paraphrasing, but just barely. But I figured becoming a regular at Orioles Pizza & Subs wasn’t worth giving up my vege pledge.

Day Eighteen (Thursday): I was invited to a luncheon with free pizza. And there are a lot more of these free pizza luncheons on the horizon. It’s easy, cheap, and vegetarian. But I found myself back at that sports bar (Turp’s) at night. I actually ordered mozzarella sticks for the first time since my childhood. Somewhere when I was playing pee-wee football, I must have ordered so many of them that one day, I couldn’t picture consuming another single block of fried cheese. And so for about 20 years, I went without them, possibly picking one or two off a plate in that amount of time, and I’m not exaggerating. Until tonight. I ordered them, choked them down, and will probably not do it again for another 20 years.

Day Nineteen (Friday): I hate it when people don’t know how to order multiple pizzas at a function. Today was staff training day, which means more free food. Two free meals, actually. So I was naturally excited to have my thought process taken care of until sundown. But after having 2 bagels for breakfast, I was sorely disappointed at our lunch options. There were 10 pizzas ordered and rather than have 5 plain and 5 pepperoni or something else that makes sense, here’s what somebody decided was a good idea. There were 2 pepperoni, 2 sausage, 2 veggie lovers, 2 ham & pineapple and 2 white pizzas. Yeah, no shit. NO PLAIN! Now write this down and remember it wherever you go. Even people who like pepperoni will still eat plain, people who like green peppers and onion will still like plain – but people who like plain or are simply depriving themselves of certain parts of the pizza for the next couple weeks or so – they don’t always like it the other way around. And why not just get one of each and a bunch of plain pizzas? And so my only options were either a pizza with a garden on top or a pizza without sauce or flavor, but still with the gas-producing, artery-clogging cheese on it. So I had the damn white pizza and another bagel. And I’m also in charge of ordering pizza for the department now. And so I drove home and had some real Franzone’s pizza to get the white pizza taste and thought out of my head.

Also, I decided to finally weigh myself today. Something I should have probably done at the beginning of this whole process. 179 pounds. I don’t know if that’s good or bad yet, but I honestly think that it’s almost exactly what I weighed to start this diet if not exactly exactly. Hopefully I remember to weigh myself later to have something to compare it to.

Day Twenty (Saturday): So I had come up to my sister’s place to help my brother-in-law move. I was supposed to be “the muscle.” Well, I had some oatmeal and vegetarian stromboli for breakfast and lunch. I then proceeded to carry a bunch of heavy and heavier boxes down the stairs, across the street, and back up other stairs. After under an hour, my knees started to shake. I became lightheaded, and though I didn’t necessarily pass out, I definitely lost my vision temporarily during one of the trips down the stairs. And then came another moment I’m familiar with. The internal “Why am I doing this” conversation. My original goal was to make it a whole month without meat. And even that’s a lie. It was 6 weeks originally. And then after a series of compromises, reevaluations of goals and a couple dizzy spells doing something a 5-yr old girl could have done, I decided that this would be the end or at least the most recent in a long list of compromises in this project. Brad’s 30th birthday party was a cookout at his place and after a 2-hour drive (which came after a 2-hour nap), I feasted on pit beef, pulled pork, barbeque chicken and sushi. And I loved it. I didn’t think about the implications of cheating on the diet without Jen until later, when I was sleeping in the bathtub.

Day Twenty-one (Sunday): So now I was faced with the decision on whether or not I should even continue. I had already fallen – nay, leaped willingly and regretlessly – off the wagon yesterday evening. But I decided to get back on the wagon and just make a planned stop every Saturday during this project to hop off the wagon, eat some meat, and hop back on. Like I mentioned before, I’m not doing this to impress anybody or even for my health. I write the rules, and this is what they are. For now. Subject to change. And I picked Saturday because I figured my Sunday morning football league is as high risk for collapsing as there is for a malnourished carnivore. And thus I went back to my diet of penne and feta cheese at Noodles & Co.

Operation Vegetarian: Week Two

Operation Vegetarian: Week Two

So I made it through my first week, which is apparently longer than Jen had thought I would last. Good to know I have a supportive partner in all this. Throughout the week, I thought about exactly why I was doing this and I came up with what I think is the real reason, other than Jen is making me so it, which is also a motivating factor. And the answer is that it is easy. Not in its execution, but in its definition of parameters. The difference between a vegetarian diet and a low carb diet (besides the many health benefits associated with it that I have no idea about) is that I know what meat is and therefore I can figure out when not to eat it. I know what beef looks like. I know what bacon looks like. I have no idea what a carb looks like. So if all I have to do is define something as meat and not eat it, it’s much easier to figure out how to eat.

That having been said, there are still many different versions of vegetarians. Some eat fish, which kinda blows my mind. In what world are fish not meat? Actually, I know the answer to that. That’s what I call a “Catholic Vegetarian.” I am on the Darwinism Vegetarian diet, where fish count as meat. They swim around, they bite, they have their own little heartbeats. Personally, I say that makes them meat.

Day Eight: I had the leftover couscous today and was told that it apparently has chicken broth in it. Jen apparently says that as long as it doesn’t have chunks of meat in it, that it doesn’t count. So I’m rescinding that I cheated on day one with the gravy incident. Apparently, if ground up fine enough and added to liquid, anything can be vegetarian. I will be testing out a chicken milkshake tomorrow.

Day Nine: I finally got my ass out to get some peanut butter & jelly. This will be my new best friend, I’m sure. I had three sandwiches throughout the course of the day. Cupcakes are also a familiar friend of mine, as I finally bought them in bulk today. I had given them up previously because of my cholesterol issues. I don’t think this is a very smart diet at all.

Day Ten: As predicted, I had PB&J for lunch again. Only this time, rather than having a healthy dinner, I had an Auntie Anne’s pretzel for breakfast and leftover mac & cheese for a midnight snack. I actually think the guy from Supersize Me was eating healthier than I am.

Day Eleven: Joe drove me to work today as I had to drop my car off at the mechanic because I made a deal with the devil a long time ago that stated something in the contract about never having a functional car for longer than two consecutive months. Joe stopped by Chick Fil-A after picking me up and I almost forgot that I was a vegetarian. He reminded me while we were in line, the prick. SO I had a milkshake for breakfast. Also, Jen and I decided to attend the Nats game tonight and baseball stadiums are known for being notoriously difficult to find vegetarian options. So I had a nice healthy dinner of french fries once again. Thankfully I had filled up on PB&J for lunch.

Day Twelve: So the great thing about this time of year is that with all the wooing of the new students comes free lunches for all the staff. So this was the first of the free lunches that I’ll be getting about every other day until just about the end of this diet. Now, as all free lunch caterers know, there are vegetarians amongst the normal people, so there are always vegetarian options. However, some of them suck. Thankfully today, both options sucked so it didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything. I had a lot of Caesar salad. Julius would have been proud.

The night provided a bit of a challenge though, as I found myself out at a sports bar trying to navigate my way through the menu. I wound up once again eating fries and an entire order of meatless nachos because somebody either doesn’t know how to order nachos with meat on one half or make nachos with meat on one half.

Day Thirteen: This is the day I’d been waiting for since the beginning of this operation. While Jen and I were still up in Boston, I came to the fortunate revelation that I had already replied to Leigh’s wedding, saying that I’d have the steak and she’d have the fish. That was to fall right in the middle of this vegetarian challenge. Joe simply said “Yeah, you can make exceptions like that.” Well, shit! “Honey, it’s steak night at Outback.” “But baby, it’s Fried Chicken Awareness Week in the Mt. Vernon area.” “Sweetie, it’s National I’m Tired of Peanut Butter & Jelly Day.” Well, we decided not to exploit this epiphany just yet, but we sure as shit weren’t going to re-reply with the vegetarian option. And so, there it was. A nice, juicy, melt in your mouth exception that I’d been drooling about for two weeks. And I dropped it on the floor. Just kidding. It was awesome. Kinda made me wonder what the hell I’m doing this for again. So congratulations to Leigh and Craig for getting married and thank you so much for inviting Jen and I to this very special day. You have NO idea how much it means. J

Day Fourteen: Today completely sucked. Because now the exception is over and the only thing I have to look forward to is Day Thirty-Two, or the first day of the rest of my meat-eating life. Oh yeah, after having Chips Ahoy cookies for breakfast and chopped up peppers and steamed asparagus for dinner, I decided that it was probably OK to only do it for the originally intended month rather than 6 weeks, which seems more arbitrary anyway. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of that steak from last night. And I’m starting to look at the cats in a different way.

Operation Vegetarian: Week One

Operation Vegetarian: Week One

The words hadn’t yet escaped my mouth and I already regretted them. “Joe and Becky actually went a whole month as vegetarians.” I was just trying to give Jen an interesting little anecdote about these people she was about to meat (pun intended), much like “Becky is afraid of clowns” or “Joe farts when he laughs.” But instead, I signed us up for 6 weeks of seemingly unnecessary torturous malnourishment.

Now Jen is already mostly vegetarian. She eats a little fish and an occasional chicken. I don’t exactly slaughter my own food but I’m fairly reliant on meat products of all shapes, tastes and prices. So when Jen suggested that we go vegetarian for 6 weeks, what I should have said was “Why the hell would I want to do something like that?” or at least a stern “no” or that look that the Brain gave Pinky every time he made a suggestion. Instead, I figured “What the hell?”

Why am I doing this? That’s a good question. One I didn’t fully answer to myself until after I had started this. Just a challenge. I’m not climbing Mt. Everest or running a triathlon. This is what I’m doing. I enjoy challenging myself and finding my limits. And there’s a good possibility I will find that limit before the end of the 6 weeks. Hopefully not at the end of a roast beef IV drip in Memorial Hospital after attempting to do something as stupid as run to first base after 23 days without protein.

Day One: Day one and I already cheated. Kinda. I’m making up my own rules so who’s to say I’m actually cheating anyway? I went to order lunch and – with very newly limited options – went with mac & cheese and potato salad. Only at the last minute, I thought “Wait a sec! I like mashed potatoes more than potato salad and it’s still not an animal. I’m gonna do that!” And as the guy was dishing it out, he asks me if I’d like beef or turkey gravy. I recognized both of those as meats. And there damn well wasn’t anyway I was going to not have gravy. Oh well. Looks like tomorrow will be the real day one.

Day Two: Day two and Jen cheated. Taco Bell “botched” her order apparently and she didn’t notice until too late. I’m going to use that excuse later too. “Honey, I swear I ordered the alfalfa salad, I don’t know why they brought me filet mignon wrapped in bacon.” I also apparently cheated according to Fred’s bullshit theory. And yes, I’m calling it a theory. I had a Caesar salad and apparently authentic Caesar dressing (which this was never proven to be) uses anchovy paste or something like that. Apparently anchovy is some sort of fish, which I didn’t ever really bother to learn. So I may or may not have cheated depending on the dressing and the parameters I am using to define my vegetarianism. I’m OK with that.

Day Three: Wednesday is pizza day, an already-functional conduit for my new vegetarian ways. I was looking forward to pizza day for a while, mostly because I knew what I was going to eat. That’s the biggest struggle day to day. So far. It’s not the actual consumption of non-meat. It’s finding that. I am ill-prepared for this endeavor in that respect. But Wednesday, it was already spelled out for me. Thank you, pizza day, for making my food-hunting process a little easier today.

Also, Jen made mac & cheese for dinner tonight. I will probably eat that a lot. And I finished it well after I was full because I couldn’t find a Tupperware lid to save it for later. That is pathetic on multiple levels.

Day Four: I was able to put it off for this long, but I finally partook in the Veggie Patty from Subway. Formerly looked upon with disgust and honestly, a little arrogance, I was now set to purchase this rectangular piece of speckled cardboard. And you know what? It didn’t suck. Maybe I’m already grading on a curve, but it was impressively tolerable. I will likely have it again in the upcoming weeks. However, I will not get jalapenos on it. I never purposely had them on anything and didn’t like them even when I was eating meat. I don’t know why I asked for them. I think I was in a panic when ordering. I’ll try to practice beforehand next time.

Day Five: I actually called ahead to a bar to ask if they had any vegetarian food. Turns out they do have more than just french fries that I can eat. Most places do. I think I am starting to recognize real vegetarians as regular people in society. People with a slight societal disorder and an iron defficiency, but fuctional members of society nonetheless.

I saw a black bean burger in the menu. Having already eaten a veggie patty, I figured I'd try it. I am now convinced that doused in pepperjack cheese, ketchup and mayo that anything would taste like a cheeseburger. That's probably the mission statement at McDonalds. Anwyay, I was both delighted and disturbed at how easy it was to fool me into thinking I was eating beef. And I already had pizza on the menu at Brian and Lauren's place for dinner so I was set for another day. At the end of this experiment, I'm going to toal up the number of times I eat pizza and Mac & cheese. The over/under is probably 3.5 times a week for each.

Day Six: By pure luck, Jen and I were invited to a dinner party for Kate Fergus that happened to be at Great Sage, a vegetarian restaurant. I always knew these people had their own restaurants but I never thought I'd be allowed in one. And they apparently have their own idea of how much non-meat dinners should cost. They also spend a lot of time tryint to mold edible non-meat products into the shape and texture of actual meat products. I ordered the "chicken." And that's how it was listed in the menu, quotation marks and all. The Coconut Curry "Chicken." I'm pretty sure by law, KFC has to do that too when they spell out the chicken. Which is why they always say "KFC." And I'll be darned if it didn't have the same look and feel to it that chicken does. And drowned in curry, it was really hard to tell the difference. It seems as though these vegetarian places spend a lot of time and effort to make these products seem like other meats. I wonder if they pretend they are when they eat them too. Oh, those cheaters.

Day Seven: The end of week one of six. This was an easy day as I didn't leave the apartment and all the only meat in here are these beef jerky sticks from our Texas trip that Jen has under lock and key anyway. She made some veggie concoction with peppers, pineapple and couscous. I spend the rest of my diet on Chips Ahoy, Ritz and veggie cream cheese. Next time I try a diet just to see if I can do it, I'm going to make sure it's motivated by health reasons.

Lost in Transmission & Rating Things That Are Wrong With My Car

Lost in Transmission

For those of you interested, not interested and those still unsure, my second search for a vehicle in the last 10 months is over. It concluded with a stylish 4-cylinder 97 Civic. Thank God I already have a girlfriend. I’m just glad the search is over. I do this way too often. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t hate it with the passion of a thousand island dressing (I may have misunderstood that saying). Seriously, the act of looking for a car is up there with waterboarding for me. Strap me down to a chair and force me to look for a cheap but reliable vehicle that is Maryland State inspected and I will admit to shit that I did not do. So in an effort to maximize the time between now and the next time I’ll have to deal with this shit (and with that girlfriend card firmly in my pocket), I decided to stick within the Honda and Toyota families - not that the concept of buying a car from one of 7 different companies who have gone bankrupt and will cease to manufacture replacement parts isn’t appealing. Though I did occasionally take a peek at the Wranglers around the area. But I was able to fight through it thanks to my mantra: “What would a grown-up do?” “Buy foreign, and throw away your Weird Al t-shirts.” I didn’t even ask for that second piece of advice, thank you subconscious.

So why am I buying my second car in under a year? Well, I’ll give you half that story now. If you haven’t heard about the exploding jeep, you’ll have to wait. But it forced me into buying a car cheap and quick when I moved to Maryland in August. Basically, the cheapest car I could find that was Maryland State inspected on craigslist. And so I got my $1300 Sentra. It started to accrue so many problems in so little time that it was evident I’d never be able to sell it again. It wouldn’t pass inspection, it wouldn’t pass emissions, it wouldn’t even pass a moped on the sidewalk. I found myself wishing that something would go wrong with the engine or transmission just so I could justify getting rid of the damn thing. Well, I got my wish about a month ago.

---

Things That Are Wrong With My Car

Driver’s Side Window Stuck Up – This is especially annoying at drive thrus and toll booths. It actually used to just make this metallic grinding noise about halfway down (and up) and you just had to push (or pull) it the rest of the way while holding the button down. I had gotten good enough at it where I rarely got my fingers caught in it on the way up, when it just stopped altogether. Honestly it’s probably better that way. Thankfully, this has nothing to do with the performance of the car but God forbid I get pulled over and have to explain that. C-

Exhaust System Banging Against Gas Tank & Back of Car – The literal day after I bought the car, it started making this banging noise. Turns out the guy who sold it to me had basically glued the exhaust system together long enough to fool me into buying it. After Jamie (my nephew daddy) helped (he did it – I helped) find another tailpipe and fasten it on, it was rigged to only bang against the gas tank rather than have a hole in it. But it still wouldn’t pass emissions and it made the same annoying noise and now we added a much higher risk of explosion for a part that has nothing to do with the performance of the vehicle. Thankfully I met Jen before she ever saw the car. C+

Brakes Are Broken – So I went to my mechanic the last time to get new front brakes because every time I tried to stop, the car pulled to the right and smoke started coming up from the front right tire. I figured that was bad. So the mechanic replaced the front brakes and told me that the rear cylinder was leaking so bad that he recommended that I either replace it or I don’t drive for more than another “two days” with that car. Well, I wasn’t about to shell out $500 for a car that probably wouldn’t sell for that. And so I took those two days and just drove for another 2 months with one hand on the emergency brake. A worthwhile non-investment. B

Faulty Transmission – Finally, something that I can’t overlook. The car won’t get out of first gear. I came to this realization on the Capital Beltway. This is the second car of mine that died on 495. It’s not a very forgiving environment. In fact, I had to put my left turn signal on to ensure everybody would try to pass me on the left so I could get off the highway on the right. So it is dead. But I managed to get the car back home and I know of 4 or 5 used car & junk lots I could actually drive the car to in first gear. Better than a hole in the engine. But not by much. D-

Missing Windshield Gasket – I was driving up 83 after work when I saw the rubber gasket that went around my windshield blowing in the wind. Before I had any other thoughts, it went flying off onto the highway. Now I’m sure it’s not an expensive part, but it seems like an important one. Right now, gravity is the only thing keeping my windshield on. While I don’t expect gravity to ever stop working, it would be nice to have some insurance. And duct tape is apparently not the answer. Duct tape is like Superman tape that will stick to anything – but rain is it’s kryptonite. So I’m living without a gasket, which will only matter in the case that gravity ceases to work or if I flip my car into a position which gravity cannot help it stay on. Either way, I got much bigger problems than my windshield. B+

Buying foreign and wearing polos,

Honda D.


Still Standing Right Here…


QOTD credits (7/1/09): John Chapin - (Thank God you already have a girlfriend)

Pop Goes Pop

World’s Greatest Pop Star, Child Molester Dead at Age 50

The undisputed "king of pop," Michael Jackson, did not stop before he got enough and died today at the age of 50 from cardiac failure. His nose passed away a mere few minutes later. It was only 17.

An autopsy confirms that Jackson suffered a massive heart attack while performing Beat It one last time in front of a solo audience in the East Wing bathroom. He was found completely naked wearing only a single white glove.

Michael is survived by his three children, two sisters and four talentless hacks who made their livelihood by riding his coattails for a better part of seven years. Both Michael and his nose will be buried together next to his cheek bones this Saturday at the Vic Morrow Celebrity Funeral Home. Weird Al Yankovic will deliver the eulogy.

While this is a very sad day for the entertainment world and enthusiasts of a man who defined an era of music and invented the music video, it is a huge step forward for twitter. Sad as it may be for our country's future, all major news sources – including CNN – are citing twitter as an official reference. Upon hearing news of Jackson and Farrah Fawcett today, Patrick Swayze had this to say: “Whew!”

More on this as the story develops.

The King of Soda Pop,

D Rec.


Still Standing Right Here…


QOTD credits: Linda Gambino – ("Whew")

Busted Dustin

Busted Dustin

So I went to a storytelling show last night where the theme was “Coming of Age.” People told stories about their weddings and proms, and since I never had a wedding or prom, I thought of what story I would tell. I was tempted to tell the story of the time I lost my virginity, but the current person I’m having sex with was there and I didn’t want to make the evening as painful and awkward as the actual night I lost my virginity. So I prepared a slightly less painful and awkward story. And it was good that I did because they called me to go up on stage to tell it. And so I recalled with as much detail as I could the first time I was caught making out with a girl in a public park after dark by the police. And yes, I said first.

Check out the actual footage from the Speakeasy show where I told this story.

Now I was 17 when this happened and I’ve since lived an entire other 17 years, so this story that I’m about to tell you will be a good mixture of actual events, exaggerated details and completely fabricated lies, some I’ve told myself for years and some I’m intentionally telling you now and I’ll let you sort it out in your head.

When you’re in high school and your girlfriend and you both live with your parents, it’s tough to find a place and time to make out. You either need to wait for them to leave, find a friend whose parents aren’t home, won’t notice or don’t care (and that’s a little weird even for me), or go outside. And so we just got in the car without a real plan. But first I needed to get the car.

“Mom, can I borrow the car?”

“Sure honey, where are you going?”

“Um… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know? Why are you taking your blanket?”

“I love you too.”

And off I went to pick her up. Now here’s where my memory gets a little hazy. It was a nice summer night and we ended up at Bridgeport Park, where I had played many a youth baseball game in my day. And I was about to get to second base once again (hehe). I remember that we were in the beginning stages of making out when we saw a car driving along this dirt path that ran across the park. I remember thinking that it was probably in our best interests to lie down to the ground as flat as we possibly could. Like we were one with the grass. I also remember thinking that maybe we should have done a better job of hiding the car instead of parking it completely alone right near the entrance to the park. Thankfully, it looked like the car was going to pass us and we could resume our activities. It was just then that we saw the car turn 90 degrees right toward us. And there were the two normal headlights and then a third one on the driver’s side by the mirror to signify that this was either a cop or a really dedicated particpant in the middle of a game of flashlight tag.

The gig was up. We were caught. It was time to salvage what dignity we could. She had already taken off her shirt and I believe her bra was partially unbuckled, probably by her out of frustration of my ineptitude to do it myself. I was completely naked. Because we of course all know how much more patience boys have when it comes to matters of this nature. So she was already completely clothed by the time the police got to us. I, however, was shirtless and had put my shorts on backwards. If there’s ever an excuse to put your shorts on backwards gentlemen, this is it. I did of course still have my shoes on, because we of course all know how much more patience boys have when it comes to matters of this nature.

So the cop drives up and the first thing he says is “Maam, are you OK.” This is a great first question to ask for obvious reasons, but a question I was nonetheless unprepared for, having already resolved myself to do all the talking.

“Yes, she’s fine” I heard myself say a little before I thought about the implications of that statement.

“Sir, I’m not speaking to you” he said, obviously agitated.

“Fine then, I’m not speaking to you either.”

Now, the humor implicit in that statement became completely irrelevant very quickly. It’s possible my thought process was distracted by the question of whether or not I should bother zipping up the back of my shorts, because I certainly wasn’t going to walk anywhere like this. Thank the Gods of Calmer Heads that my girlfriend decided to speak up and tell the officer that she was OK and there of her own free will. He then asked for her name, to which she said “Penny.” The amazing part is that her name was Veronica. I have no idea how she pulled that off so fluidly. I was so taken aback that when the officer asked for my name, I completely panicked and told him the truth. 8,000 other boy's names in the world and they all escaped me at the moment I needed access to them more than ever.

The officer then informed us that we were not to be in the park after dark and we should “take it somewhere else.” As previously discussed, our options were limited, though I’m happy the officer still condoned our actions on some level, just asking that they not happen in his jurisdiction. Besides the lack of options, I could tell the mood was killed at this point. For her. I, of course was already scouting out other public parks or patches of soft ground not directly alongside a major road in my head. No need to waste a perfectly good blanket. But the night was over. And more than anything else, that was the night I learned that I could not lie to save my life in pressure situations and I could also never trust Veronica or whatever the hell her name is again .

Parking and parking,

Busted Dustin.

Still Standing Right Here… QOTD credits: Mike DeStefano – (For saying “I’m not speaking to you either” in 7th grade to Mr. Sindaco)