Sunday, November 29, 2009

Why Life Is All Good (family)

(Wednesday night entry)
I realize life has been stressful lately and I have been dealing with it in a very odd way. However, right now has reminded me why everything is OK. At this moment, I’m sitting at the bar 50 feet away from my flight terminal. Sure, my flight has been delayed twice now (from 7:40 to 8:05 to 8:35 now), but fuck it that just means more time for more drinks. I am currently pre-gaming for the real party in Ocean Reef Club with my fam. I made it through security with my chronic taped to my crotch and I wish I could smoke this shit right here, right now. But instead I’ll be patient and burn it with my blood in Key Largo. Can’t wait to hop in that Carysfort van and ask the driver if I can light up. If not, it’s just more for my crew when I finally arrive. Thanksgiving is the best holiday for too many reasons. Let’s give thanks to what truly matters in life and forget about the rest. ONE.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Trust (why I've been acting crazy)

Anyone who would like to further understand why I've been acting a little manic lately should listen to "Dog Intro," by DMX on Grand Champ. Although I believe people are inherently good and want what is best for humanity, ultimately there are enough stupid, evil people that society will always be inherently evil. When I spend too much time away from those closest to my heart, I begin to question people's motives. Especially in Washington, D.C. where the big wigs on the Hill don't understand what's best for everyone because they are after political celebrity status for the most part. They've never experienced enough of this country to understand what people are going through in other places. Money is power and we cannot afford to keep all the power in the hands of the same people anymore. Because they don't know what's really going on. People die everyday because of sheets of paper. Not because they want to or deserve to, but because they have no choice. That's why I love reading news stories about some middle-aged yuppie being stuck-up by 13-year-olds. You were outsmarted by a teenager and lost $300 over it? Boo hoo. Good. They need it much more than you do.

Teamwork (the first of many)

I had a dream about my old football days last night that reminded me of what being a team truly entails. Once upon a time, I decided to spend an additional year in high school to figure out what I really wanted to do in college. Part of this had to do with baseball. I decided to attend The Lawrenceville School because they accepted me and it was the best of the prep schools I applied to. Although I was initially opposed, I decided to play one more season of football because you were required to play two sports and I figured why not stay in shape to prepare for the sport I actually cared about. BIG MISTAKE. There is a reason the only football coach I ever listened to was Kevin Clancy at my beloved Strath Haven. He inspired you to optimize your natural gifts as a football player. And he demanded perfection. He put the best 11 on the field (and I only made the cut on special teams). No bullshit. No politics. No parents involved. This was all a time-tested formula for winning. And we always won. At Lawrenceville the formula was way off. Run a million sprints during three-a-days. Fine. I'll dog people in sprints so I can stay in shape. But why are we doing all this cardio in training camp? Shouldn't everyone be in shape coming into camp? Apparently not. Couldn't we be spending some of this time learning how to properly execute plays? What happened to details? Being a physically fit team means nothing if you can't execute and play cohesively. So after training camp I kind of took a step back and watched the team crumble. "It's the ghosts of Strath Haven," is what my coach at Lville would say when I screwed up. Damn right it is, they are trying to remind me what the fuck is going on here. We had some bright moments, but for the most part things went wrong. And for the two snaps I begrudgingly took in a meaningful game situation (the starter was down for a minute), I realized exactly why we sucked so bad. After the first play, I got the huddle together and before I could call the next play, the fat, immobile fuck of a center had the nerve to say, "What is he (coach) doing, put (starter) back in!" Really!? I mean I don't want to be quarterbacking you guys in the first place, but just because you like his hands on your nuts more than mine doesn't mean you can open your fat mouth about it. I bit my tongue, but if I had cared about that team I would have grabbed the center by the facemask and kneed him in his fat gut for that attitude. But I refrained. Because most of the kids on the team weren't worth the time. So, the starter came back in after that and we continued to lose that game. The moral to all of this is that in most team sports, especially football, you cannot win if individual interests are placed above what is best for the entire unit. Sure, some guys are trying to get scholarships. But if you are the type of football player who would rather achieve individually and lose than perfect your role and win, then you are no football player in the first place. Thoughts?

Monday, November 23, 2009

Hill Rats (the first of many on this topic)

First of all, if you are an unpaid intern you can't say shit to anyone. Start learning how to pay rent before you talk big. This doesn't stem from a beef with any particular Hill Rat, it's just the way it is. I had to deal with one of these fools on the phone outside Hart last week and it about drove me crazy. Where are your people skills? You're a damn intern learn them. Stop mumbling to me about how the phones are swamped and you're sorry but you have to put me on hold for a minute. It's your job not to put me on hold and answer these damn lobbyists questions quickly, or whatever you do. Go back to school and learn people, then do your poli-sci thing. Time is money and you're wasting mine.

DMX/Jigga backstage freestyle (X kills it)

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Sirens Party

First of all - many apologies for my behavior last night. I'm sure I offended plenty. In my defense, when you step foot in my (OUR) house you play by my (OUR) rules. Anyway, let's get to the story. So the female acapella group, the Sirens (affiliated with my alma mater GW - check them out), hosted a party at our place last night because their initial venue fell through. That's all good in my book - they took care of business and held up their end of the deal (thank you Taylor). I had a hell of a time and my night went pretty much the way I envisioned it. However, when you have a party at your house that is not technically being hosted by you, shit is bound to happen. First of all, when I'm smoking my weed in my house I don't need people I don't know holding their hand out. Can I hit that? No, you don't know me. This is my chronic, I tend to smoke the finest, and my good friend I buy it from doesn't put his ass on the line so some clown can smoke his product. Go home and smoke your dirt weed then come back to my house and party. That's all I ask, and if you are a true smoker this should be falling on deaf ears ("Despise dudes who wanna get high but never buy" - Meth). Second, I know it's weird to walk into a house party and see some hyperkinetic freak walking around with his shirt off in stunner shades and a bucket hat, with a glass of suspiciously green liquid (JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE baby, they sell it around the corner now, I'm supposed to stop but I can't!). But before you pass judgment and start some shit you don't want to finish, ask yourself what you would be doing if the party was in your house. Probably having a lot more fun because you wouldn't give a fuck what other people are doing. Don't care if you're wifed-up with some girl in the Sirens and because they are technically hosting you think you have the right to tell me what's what. Nah, not in our house. This is our shit here and we do things our way. And I've been listening to DMX way too much lately, so now is not a good time to test us. So chill with the small talk. I understand you are still in college and that's what we do when we're in expensive day care. But those days are behind me, and WE are on some grown men shit. Just because your girl wants on my team doesn't mean you can run off at the mouth. I'm gonna be getting drunk and lifted on Saturday nights for life. If I'm in the type of mood where I want to hurt whoever tries to touch mine, I might decide to drink energy in the form of a green malt liquor. If I'm at home, I might decide to take my shirt off. Especially if a bunch of kids are running around my house. I'm trying to lay down the law in my own home. Jealous? Good. Stay that way homeboy, you'll get nowhere fast. Just don't bring that shit around my home. Third, I don't know who the two love-struck fools were messing around in Arndt's room, but don't ever try to fuck in a stranger's bed. That will get you killed. Especially by large German men who have gun fetishes and live in a city that finally decided to follow what the Constitution says and give us the option to arm ourselves. No, Arndt is not packing, but what if he was? And he was a little too drunk. And in a bad mood. Decisions like that lead to either abortion or at the best, some bad, drunken sex. Get the picture? Get the girl's number and punch your ticket to slam city next weekend. Who knows, she might even be worth dealing with. Last, I'm not even gonna get started on why or how baby powder is all over the second floor bathroom. Whoever did it, you know you fucked up. Try that shit next time when I'm not hammered and running all over the house, because you will be cleaning it up. Perhaps with a few of your teeth in the mix. Thoughts? Am I being too harsh?

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Chief Ike's Rules

I went to Chief Ike's (1725 Columbia Rd., NW) for the second time last night and am fully convinced of its awesomeness. I didn't realize the first time I went, but they have free billiards! There is only one table so you need to go when it isn't too crowded to have any luck playing, but last night business was pretty slow so it was perfect for a Friday night pool session. The bartender was real cool, and he was playing some great party music. I heard the new Jay-Z song, "On To The Next One," which is insanely good (produced by Swizz Beatz). I asked the bartender about the Blueprint 3 and he has convinced me to go buy it. I'll post a review on that in the near future. Anyway, overall it was a great time except for the knucklehead bouncer. When I went outside to get some fresh air, I stepped outside the patio onto the sidewalk to take a short stroll. When I returned the bouncer looked at my ID (for the second time) and asked me for a $5 cover. I can't recall exactly, but when I initially went in I don't remember there being a cover. That wouldn't make sense for a place like that (unless they were trying to make up for their losses since it was slow). I looked at the bouncer like he was crazy, but he insisted I give him $5 and showed me a wad of cash as an indicator of him collecting cover charges. I told him I had already been inside, and pointed to the three friends I had come in with who were seated right inside the front window. He continued to insist, so to avoid arguing and wasting time I handed him a petty Lincoln. In my annoyance, I proceeded to tell him to go buy a few Kit-Kats with it (he was fat). Later on, while leaving the bar for good with my friends, he attempted to return the $5 to me realizing I had in fact been in the bar prior to our uneasy encounter. I was too drunk to swallow my pride, so I again told him to keep it and buy himself a few Kit-Kats with it. I love Chief Ike's and I don't want to be turned away in the future, so to the bouncer I apologize for being stubborn. Next time I'm there and you are working I will apologize in person. Regardless, the point remains that it is a great homely bar and should be checked out by all those seeking an alternative to DC's "lounge" scene. Thoughts?

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Phillies Rant (The Virtues of America's Birthplace)

*This was a letter I wrote to my sister in light of the recent baseball tragedy (the context will be difficult to understand for outsiders but the point remains - I was venting)
Furry - can't sleep. So true about (hopefully not) seeing A-Rod at ORC. Although over the last season he's gained a little respect in my eyes for slightly evolving out of his prima donna bullshit since the steroid thing came out - he's still a punk-ass. Typical Yankees player, no personal integrity or respect for the game. To the point where I, a baseball nut, had absolutely no interest in approaching him and attempting to chat when we saw him and his pretty boy frosted-tips catching a Hollywood-esque tan in ORC two years ago. Any true Yankees fan (and there are some, i.e. our step-father) should look at this latest ring as bittersweet - which is precisely how Lou described it. The only people in that organization that shouldn't be struck down by the baseball gods are Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera, maybe a few others. If the Yankees had any idea how to run a baseball team they would win the World Series every year. George Steinbrenner doesn't know shit about baseball. Neither does Cashman. When only big wigs on Wall Street can afford decent seats to a World Series game, you have a problem. You have people running your team who don't know the game and you're bound to fail. That's the bottom line. And that's why I have little reason to be upset about losing other than the fact that, duh, we didn't win. And we always want to win. All season long. In NYC, the Yanks (other than Jeter and Rivera) and most of their fans want to win when it's convenient - when they make it to the World Series. April through September is meaningless to them. No one is tuned in. I love visiting, but fuck that city. It sucks the life out of people. I'm sure that's one of the several reasons Nat left. I should ask her. No one has character other than born-and-raised New Yorkers. And even born-and-raised ones usually think simply because they're from the financial and cultural capitol of the world, they're gods’ gift to Earth. It’s that sense of entitlement New Yorkers have that makes them inferior to those of us down the turnpike. Phuck that. People come, capitalize on the many opportunities NYC offers, then generally get out. Philly is everything an East Coast city should be.New York failed to uphold those standards and principles a long time ago. It's unfortunate it's become what it is today. Philly is where this nation and all of our high and mighty (hint of sarcasm) principles was conceived. Our teams and our people who support them are an extension of that, especially when it comes to our national pastime. In NYC, winning is a tradition. In Philly, it’s a way of life. Just like cheesesteaks and soft pretzels and Italian hoagies aren't just delicious foods. And The Roots and Beanie Sigel and Freeway and Billie Holiday and John Coltrane and Teddy Pendergrass and Jill Scott and Will Smith and Eve and Musiq, regardless of your generation and whether or not you listen to them, aren't simply musicians, they’re a part of who we are. We don't win as much as we should, but when we do we earn it. The hard way. The Philly way. We're the class of this country, the best and the brightest, fuck the haters. And stupid people from lesser places love to hate our town. I could write a book about the superiority of Philadelphia to any American city, and maybe I will just to prove a point on our home’s behalf. And I'm from the fucking suburbs. That says something. MotherPhuck NYC, Boston, Houston, LA (even though it’s my next future home), my beloved DC (aka Hollywood For Ugly People), Chicago, San Fran, and all the rest. They all have their merits, but not the complete package. This country would be the class of the world if everyone conducted themselves in the manner of a true Philadelphian. In fact, I firmly believe our next President needs to be a Philadelphian. I know it’s early and I voted for him, but President Chicago is not living up to my expectations. Maybe it’s the laid-back Midwestern tradition that is failing him. If, like Ben Franklin (who could have been a great President) – in my opinion the greatest mind in our nation’s history – Obama had spent his formative years in the City of Brotherly Love, maybe we’d be better off right now (not that Obama hasn’t inherited most of the mess were in, but still). Franklin’s thirteen virtues (at least some of them), like our food and music, are just another aspect of the Philadelphia philosophy. Can't wait to retire in a nice old rowhouse in Olde City. It might have to be sooner than later. Cheers to that principle tenet of the philosophy: home is where the heart is. And trust me, we have a lot of heart.