I'm really embarrassed about this blog - all aspects of it.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

New York a broad?

New York City has 10 sister cities. I think it's important to know all of them, so that I don't accidentally have sex with one while I'm travelling abroad. You think New York is a tough city now, wait until you fuck her sister!

Happy Traveling!

Sister City
1960 Flag of Japan Tokyo, Japan
1980 Flag of the People's Republic of China Beijing, China[182]
1982 Flag of Egypt Cairo, Egypt
1982 Flag of Spain Madrid, Spain[183]
1983 Flag of the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
1992 Flag of Hungary Budapest, Hungary
1992 Flag of Italy Rome, Italy
1993 Flag of Israel Jerusalem, Israel
2001 Flag of the United Kingdom London,1 United Kingdom
2003 Flag of South Africa Johannesburg, South Africa
2005 Flag of the Dominican Republic Santiago, Dominican Republic
1. both Greater London and the City of London

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Re: Blog renewal reminder. Don't let your blog expire!

Phew! Just in the nick of time. I would hate to think that I'm depriving all my fans of my blog, not to mention all the hard work I've put into it, just because I haven't posted anything in almost a year.

Well, worry no more.

I'm back, friends. And with a promise. I promise to blog at least 200% more this year. And if I don't, what are you going to do? Call me on it, and risk the embarrassment of admitting that you actually read my blog.

Advantage: Kevin

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Time Machine

If I were ever to build my own time machine, I think I would go back and stop Dick Vitale from becoming a sports broadcaster. I realize that this isn't paramount on the list of the world's wrongs which need to be righted, but I figure that by the time I build my own time machine, so many other time machines will have been built, to the point that they are now manufacturing "build your own" time machine kits, in which case everyone before me will have already chosen to cure cancer and to stop the holocaust and prevent war and death. Snooze fest. So now we are faced with the opportunity to go back over society and really remove the most harmless, but ultimately most annoying of all existences. And of that list, Dick Vitale is the king.

I don't want to harm Dick Vitale, I just want him stopped. And he could have been stopped; that first day. That first day when Dickie V sauntered into the studio ready to whip out his frenetic and maniacle on air persona, it all could have ended had someone had the courage to stand up and mock him. And I would love to have been that person. There's no way that Dick Vitale was 100% sure that his schtick was going to go over. It's too risky. It's way to far out on the limb for him to have been confident enough that a little mockery from his peers wouldn't have put him back into his shell. And that is the gift I'd like to give back to the world. I'd like to go back in time and make fun of Dick Vitale. I'd like to make fun of him mercilessly. I'd like to make fun of him so much that the Dick Vitale of our newly manipulated reality is just a guy who really likes basketball instead of a lunatic that froths at the mouth when the topic turns to 18-22 year old boys. A world where I didn't have to watch college basketball on mute. Now that would be totally awesome, baby!

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

To Bowl or Not to Bowl? Please, don't make me Bowl!

On Sunday, a friend invited me to go bowling. I went; I did not bowl. I didn't bowl because when ever I finish bowling, I promise myself I won't ever make the mistake of bowling again. But that can be a hard promise to keep, because bowling seems fun. It sounds fun. It something I've been force fed as fun since I was a child and that association of pseudo-fun is hard to break. But the harsh reality is: bowling sucks.

Nobody wants to hear it, but it's true. There's nothing fun about bowling, not one solitary aspect. There are a few things which commonly happen during a bowling experience that people will volunteer as the "fun" parts. I firmly disagree with all of these.

The game itself is not fun. I will admit, that I am not a good bowler. I've broken 100 several times, but by no means is it guaranteed that I will do so. The only advantage to being a better bowler, is that you're required to bowl less. A 300 game takes only 12 rolls, whereas I normally have to roll at least 18 or 19 times just to get that same feeling of non-accomplishment.

Some people think the computerized scoring system can be fun. It gives everybody a chance to come up with a funny nickname for themselves or each other, which is normally projected onto a screen that everyone in the bowling alley can see. Well that could be fun, right? Nope, this is not fun. If this is your idea of fun, there's an old-fashioned, pull-knob cigarette vending machine in the corner which should entertain you for hours, while the rest of us leave you and your friendship far behind.

"But you can drink while you're doing it". I find this to be an insulting argument in favor of bowling, or any activity really. I like to drink. I love to drink. I drink all the time. I consider dinking to be its own activity, and a great one, and I don't want it being sullied by its association with lesser events. Drinking is fun on its own. Bowling isn't. Drinking is what saves bowling from extinction, maybe the only thing that makes it tollerable. Since bowling and drinking are so synonymous, you'd assume the Professional Bowlers Association (PBA) tour probably has Budweiser or some other brewery as its corporate sponsor. Nope. This year the PBA tour is brought to you by......Denny's. That's right, Denny's. As in, "Mom, do we have to eat at Denny's".

Some people have bowling alleys in their houses. Those people are called "new money." New money isn't bad, it's just normally tacky. So is a bowling alley in your house. Bowling is a blue collar game. That's not a reason to dislike it, it's just one of the realities. Rich people bowl, but they do it on lawns, it's called lawn bowling. Then they send their servants to fetch the balls. Having a bowling alley in your home is meant to convey to your neighbors that you have a lot of money, enough money that you can allot a certain section of square footage to your bowling hobby. "Wow, that guy sure does have a lot of extra money!", say your neighbors. But inside your sad mansion, your bowling alley sits alone gathering dust, because now that you're rich, you realize how little time you want to spend bowling. Why? Because you're rich. You can do anything you want, and the thing that never shows up on the top of that list is BOWLING. Why? Because bowling sucks. Now you just have to wait for some other asshole to win the lottery, so he can turn around a buy your house because he can't believe he'd ever be rich enough to have a house with a bowling alley in it.

Clearly, I'm not a fan of bowling. But I cannot say I'll never do it again. Next year another buddy will call and invite me to go bowling. And then I'll be up against bowling's greatest asset: it takes 364 days to forget exactly how fucking lame bowling is.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

The Man in the Stairs

Dear Man Living in the Stairwell of my Building,

Go away! Or at least go to another floor. We've talked, you and I. I've expressed my displeasure with you lounging in your cozy, concrete corner. It's a stairwell. Those are stairs. What you're sitting on while you pirate my internet signal for hours at a time is called THE STAIRS. I don't mind when I see you roaming the halls with the glazed over look of a lobotomy caricature. Even when I see you rumaging around the package room, behind the desk, which is clearly an intentional divider between residents and staff, I can forgive. But you can't just keep living in my stairs. After all, they're stairs. It's not an apartment. No one has ever lived there. I don't even have to check to see if that's true, because I know it is. They're stairs. You can't live there, it's not even a possibility. Yet, you have an apartment at the end of the hall. I know because I purposely avoid it, because the guy who lives in there is the fucking weirdo who is also LIVING IN MY STAIRS!

Also, no more guitar. Practicing the guitar is an innately selfish thing. Yet, you've chosen to practice in the stairs. Which would make sense if it were also the place you lived, but, as I think I've already established, is impossible due to the fact that they're stairs. Stairs can be in an apartment. True. I've had one. It was nice. Stairs can lead up to an apartment, as we see all over the city. However, stairs cannot be the entirety of your apartment, which is the case at hand. Another reason for you to consider moving back into your apartment. And please, take the guitar. There are two types of guitar players: famous ones and everyone else. If you were in the first category, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But you're not. You're just a guy with a guitar and a desire to annoy anyone within earshot, which is probably more people than you would think, given the accoustic properties of the stairwell. Yeah, I can hear that too. All of it. Every single terrible strum. Oh, you've started smoking in there too. Great. I'm pretty sure there's a window we can open...oh, wait, nope that's right, this is still the stairs. So I guess the smoke will just sit in here and concentrate so that I can almost puke as I walk over you on my way outside. Great. It's been a pleasure. Let's make sure we do this again real soon. Don't bother calling, I'll just stop by your stairs on my way home.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

And so it begins,

I guess this is my new reality.  I'm the person I set out not to become. I'm a guy who thinks I'm interesting enough that other people will want to know about me with such frequency that I need a virtual diary to keep them satisfied. Oh, the hubris of it all. Sadly, it just might work.