MAXO Studio

Brilliant Interview with Australian Politician

2011-12-16T09:43:00.001-08:00

Fastest Female Football Player

2011-11-06T19:19:00.000-08:00

Jen caught one of Riley's long runs on her iPhone. She finished the 6 game season with 7 touchdown runs and 2 touchdown receptions. Almost all her runs were 50+ yards a pop. She was the fastest player on the team, and we had some speedsters. But they couldn't keep up with Riley.

Disregard the fat guy in the red shirt behind the play.

Sunlight Bottle Light Bulb

2011-08-29T18:51:00.001-07:00

3D Printer

2011-07-21T11:35:00.001-07:00

Not sure why I'm posting this since I just got back from a week in Cali and I'm swamped at work today. But it's just too amazing to pass up.

Rebound - by Arty & Matt Zo

2011-05-03T13:07:00.001-07:00

Matty and I finally released our first track!

Strangers - A short film

2011-04-29T10:51:00.001-07:00

An Arab, a Jew, and a gang of skinheads get on a train ...

Beach vs Indoor

2011-03-08T12:13:00.001-08:00

A Kinda Good Debate: Indoor vs Beach Volleyball from Kinda Good on Vimeo.

Jacob Tucker for NCCA Slam Dunk Contest

2011-03-05T10:46:00.001-08:00

So Sick

2011-02-14T09:56:00.001-08:00

Beautiful

2011-02-14T09:52:00.001-08:00

What if we treated real life friends the way we treat people online

2011-02-03T10:37:00.000-08:00

This sketch is pretty funny. It highlights the shortcomings of our online decorum where anonymity leads to some pretty despicable behavior. I feel like it only took advantage of a small fraction of the material it could have leveraged for being funny (i.e. Complaining about overpowered weapons, making fun of peoples stats, ranks, etc.). Still pretty good though.

Words Can Kill

2011-01-11T16:25:00.001-08:00

Just when I thought I was out ...

2010-12-17T11:57:00.000-08:00

... they pulled me back in.

For the first time in over a decade I managed to completely push beach and volleyball out of my mind. I settled into my fall coaching duties, work, video games, 2 workouts a week, eating lots of carbs, etc. Barring the occasional chat with Matty, Adam, or TC, I gave the beach no thought.

And then, today, I saw this. So now, even though it's Friday in December I'll be going to the gym and doing my plyos which aren't supposed to start until January.

And yes, this video will cover the menu to the right but I don't care. I want you to see it in all it's glory.

How do these idiots get elected?

2010-12-17T09:52:00.001-08:00

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

2010-11-24T10:26:00.000-08:00

A new album by Kanye West.

Soulsurfer Party

2010-11-17T09:54:00.001-08:00

Killer video by my buddy Chad. You can see me at 2:25.

The sad state of gaming

2010-11-12T16:20:00.000-08:00

Game technology is getting better every day. Record breaking $ amounts are pouring into the industry. So why is the core of the gaming community so disappointed? Every new blockbuster is game is treated with derision by the true fans of the franchise.

Amazing Part 2

2010-11-02T10:16:00.001-07:00

This clip is from 2006. Much of what it hails as cutting edge graphics is already dated and obsolete.

Amazing

2010-11-01T16:49:00.001-07:00

Max Attacks

2010-10-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

In the first 2 football games of his life, Max Mekanik, starting Tailback for the Bellevue Black Vampires PeeWee football team, has ammassed over 200 yards rushing, and 6 touchdowns on just 15 carries.

Most impressively is his focus and discipline during the game. Off the field he's as ADD and tempremental as the next 5 year old boy. But on the field he transforms into a machine. He responds to every command with a sharp and resounding "Yes, Sir!". He's the first to hustle to his position and line up. He doesn't lose focus on the ball and some of his cutbacks are VERY mature for a 5 yr old. I once gave him a quick tip about not looking behind him so much once he breaks into the open and just focus on his speed since looking back will slow him down. Without missing a beat a said "It won't happen again.". I credit his Tae-Kwon-Do training for this mental discipline.

I'm so proud of him. His cousin Koll is a heck of a stud with close to 100 yards rushing only 2nd to Max and an absolute shut down corner with the best pursuit angles and containment discipline I've seen out of any 6 yr old. He made a touchdown saving pull to stop the other team from scoring on the only play where they actually crossed midfield against our stingy defense.

I don't know why but I still get nervous before every one of his games. Only football. Baseball, Soccer, & Hoops games will barely get my heart rate above 50 but I still get butterflies before every one of Max's football games.

Seaside Part 4 - Break & Release

2010-10-05T13:23:00.000-07:00

Read Part 3 Here

Once the booze and painkillers kicked in I felt a lot better. I tried to have another conversation with Matt and he seemed to finally be getting over the disaster too. We decide to slip into our alter egos, ArdAtak & MattyCakes. From that point on it was PARTY TIME!

10:55 a.m.
ArdAtak asks the team getting creamed by Clay and Brian what their team name is.
“Keith & Matt” is the reply.
“PizzaBack … got it thanks.”
ArdAtak proceeds to jot “PizzaBack” on the score card.

He later had to clarify that it was a mistake and in no way related to the unfortunate acne problems suffered by the losing team.

11:29 a.m
ArdAtak asks PizzaBack if they would consider it a conflict of interest if he ref’d, kept score, took pictures, AND cheered for his friends (who were absolutely crushing them at the time).

MattyCakes declared this to be unfair so he offered to keep score, leaving ArdAtak to continue refing, cheering, and taking photos.

12:33 p.m.
Khasha and Thoeum decide to play a “Player – Coach” match with a couple of novice players they’d been mentoring over the summer. They choose to play it on the court directly next to the men’s pre-crossover game. Thoeum’s primary goal was to keep the novice players from shanking balls into the high-stakes game next to them.

1:44 p.m.
Khasha declares that he didn’t think it was possible for anyone to play at 12% effort but Thoeum just got done proving that it was possible. Thoeum sited his concerns from 12:33 (above) as the reason.

2:36 p.m.
ArdAtak and MattyCakes watch a good team from San Diego lose in the crossover. They never once stopped smiling and picking each other up. It was embarrassing to watch how they handled losing with such class and high spirits. ArdAtak tells MattyCakes: “We got good at winning together but never learned how to lose together. Maybe it’s time we start taking pointers from these guys.”

3:05 p.m.
Adam Leong, AKA A-Bomb, AKA Dustin is playing in the crossover with Khasha and Thoeums roommate, Kanani, who drove all the way up from Santa Barbara to carry Adam. ArdAtak is snapping mad photos. They’re going against a team from Minnesota featuring a monster blocker similar to the one ArdAtak stuffed and defeated earlier in the day. As such, ArdAtak decides to once again multi-task by acting as both the team photographer and coach. He’s confident that his earlier experience from defeating a monster blocker qualifies him to coach Adam to similar results. He’s bouncing around snapping shots and yelling pointers like a ferret on crack. “Don’t drop your elbow”, “Even if you’re chipping, be sure to max jump and reach high”, or true gems of wisdom like “Don’t be scared”.

Much to everyone’s surprise, ArdAtak fails in his coaching debut. Adam and Kanani have to settle for 3rd place.

4:30 p.m.
The crowd on center court for the men’s final is massive. ArdAtak decides to take a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade from MattyCakes. MattyCakes won’t let go. He declares: “I will die before I let go of this bottle. ArdAtak twists the bottle and the sweet sticky contents pour all over MattyCakes’ freshly shorn scrotum. He lets go of the bottle. Miraculously, he doesn’t die. ArdAtak savors the last few drops of nectar in the bottle while flashing his #5 smile.

5:33 p.m.
Paul and Kelly finally show up to catch the last 10 minutes of the men’s final. They had initially left Seattle on Friday hoping to watch their friends (us) play at Seaside. However, after missing 2 ferries, a midnight pit stop in Olympia, getting lost, and going to the Cannon Beach retirement community by mistake, the don’t show up until Saturday at 5:30. Despite his enhanced condition, ArdAtak does some quick Math to discover they spent more time GETTING to Seaside than they will spend AT Seaside. They are total wrecks and the story on how they got there is a separate tale which I may post at some point if Kelly ever gets around to writing it.

6:13 p.m.
Paul takes off with Adam in order to see if he can get in some trouble.
ArdAtak and MattyCakes grab a bite at the beach and carry their cooler, which is by now mostly filled with sand, back to their room. They slowly come out of their alter ego modes as they limp home as Ardi & Matt.

For dinner, we were invited to the house that Kyle, Harley, and Vu were renting. We show up and Vu has the grill going in full effect. He served up a feast and we all pigged out and laughed about the stupid antics we pulled of in our youth and the stupid antics we’re still trying to pull of in our old has-been state. Afterwards we go to the Shilo Inn where Adam hovers over the dinner table of some chicks we didn’t know while Khasha and I have a very interesting conversation with Rico from Olympia who I had played against a few times in yesteryears and hadn’t spoke to in over a decade due to some old reffing beef from a tourney in the late 90’s. In summary, he tells us that he’s half Jaguar. When pressed for an explanation he tells a story about some aliens who wanted to mine the earth but were too fragile for the harsh environment of the planet so they mixed their DNA with local animals like Jaguars, Apes, Elephants, etc. to create a more robust breed and that is how humans came to be. Khasha declares that Rico is Ardi’s new life coach.

Adam rallies the crew to go to a players party at the Elk lodge. Yeah … the Elk Lodge … and it’s exactly what you’re thinking it is. On the way there Matt picks up Rico and throws him into a bush. Except that he didn’t really let go of him during the throw so it was more like he picked up Rico and then decided to dive into a bush with Rico over his shoulder. As Karma would have it, Rico came out unscathed while Matt had some nice sexy scratches on his face. Adam had extra tickets so we get in for free and after another pain killer and a couple of drinks I’m having fun chatting with all the ballers from distant lands.

Sometime after midnight Adam pulls me aside and tells me that the bag of pain killers in his back pocket had exploded when he sat down. Ardi’s new life coach, Rico, decided to offer his wisdom.

“This pocket can not leave the premises. We must investigate this situation immediately. To the bathroom, at once.”

I skip the trip to the bathroom but a few minutes later I see Rico getting tossed out of the party by a bouncer with blood coming out of his nose. The bouncers pants were falling off. Kelly got a good photo of the fiasco. I grab Adam and go outside but he’s nowhere to be seen.

5 of us head to an afterhours party at a players house but on the way there Matt, Paul, and Kelly decide to follow some random people into an elevator. Adam and I shake our heads and continue to the party. A few minutes later I get a call from Kelly telling me that he’s in an elevator all by himself since Matt and Paul decided to ditch him. Now I have NO IDEA how you can sneak out on someone in an elevator but my next move proved that I was in no position to pass judgment. You see, what I MEANT to do was to tell Kelly that everything is going to be OK. I wanted to tell him that as soon as I get to the party I’ll call him back with directions. What I ACTUALLY did was to simply hang up on him.

The party was small and quaint. I meet a couple of guys from Cali and we BS for about 25 minutes. Paul and Matt show up shortly afterwards with Kelly in tow. He was not pleased about the hang up.

“I call you and tell you I’m lost in a strange town and you hang up on me. Thanks bro.”

I had no rational excuse for that one. But it wasn’t intentional. I get tired and head home. Eventually Paul and the boys get kicked out of the party for god knows what and come home. We wake up a few hours later and head out to breakfast. After one of the best omelets and worst bloody marys I’ve ever had we hit the road and head home.

Since Kelly wanted to take a special shortcut home, Paul is riding back with us. He starts hitting the drinks early and is pretty much trashed the whole way back home. We hit some terrible Tacoma traffic and Matt misses his flight so we drop him off at Bareqs pad since he’s closest to the airport.

I drop Khasha and Paul off, drive home, and sleep for 13 hours.

I played a few more times after Seaside. Eventually my Fall coaching obligations and the weather ended my season. I took over 100 photos at Seaside and posted them online. Everyone loved them. Unfortunately, as the photog, I got no photos of Matt and I.

I got a call from Matt a few weeks later. He had me look up the online home page for Seaside results and right there, as the main cover page, was the only picture of us from that whole trip. Matty, bump setting the ball with both feet off the ground, something I always chew him out for, and me, rushing the attack and running under the ball way too early, something I always chew myself out for. It was somewhat comical and bittersweet.

It’s a warm sunny Saturday in September. I’m crouched on the grass with Max’s Peewee team of 5 year old boys huddled around me. 6 little boys, safe in the huddle, all of them seeing things the same way as I once did. Hair matted down with sweat, cheeks pink from the heat, smiles wide with joy. The Grey Zombies are ready to roll.

“OK boys. This is what we’ve been practicing for. Remember, no matter what, you’re a team. Take care of each other out there. Pick each other up. Let’s go spank these guys.”

I watch them play. I shout instructions. Like the little Studs that they are, they hustle and make me proud.

I remember Matt’s question. “If you’re not having fun, why do you even play?”

Sometimes we forget why we play. We listen to the BS and tune out the soul of the game. But at this moment, watching Max and his friends running around, in the zone and without a care, it all comes back to me.

I play because I love the sea.
because I love the sun.
I love the sand.
my partner.

I’m a warrior. A competitor. I’m a jock through and through. And the warriors blood, sweat, and pain is forever cemented in my soul.

Roadtrippers of a Lesser God

2010-10-04T15:11:00.000-07:00

By Kelly Kortman

Editors Note:
Given the turbo lifestyle of Kelly and his elk, this post has been password protected. Hit me up for the password if you want to read it. If you're considering hiring or marrying Kelly or any of his friends, stop reading right now.

P.S. After entering your password, if you get a clientside javascript prompt about the length of the script just hit the "No" button (you might have to hit it twice). Trust me, it's harmless and your PC will NOT freeze.

Click Here to Enter Password and Read Kellys Report

Unfortunately, it appears that Kelly's story was too hot to handle and too cold to hold so it had to come down. All I can show you is this fantastic photo. Hit me up for the original transcript if you're still dying to read it.

Facelift

2010-09-23T12:39:00.000-07:00

So I just gave this bloggy blog a new facelift. Thanks for all the feedback on the Seaside stories. A lot of peeps are harassing me for part 4 which is going to be the last part (I think). Maybe if I wasn't staying up late playing Halo: Reach every night I'd have some brain power to finish it off. Stay tuned. Stay humble. Stay sexy.

ArdAtak out.

Seaside Part 3 - The Agony of Victory

2010-09-21T12:55:00.000-07:00

Read Part 2 Here

I went to bed early but still didn’t fall asleep ‘til 3:00 or 4:00 am. Got up at 7:00 super stiff. I put some heat on my back and then put on Matt’s neoprene back brace. We scarfed down a quick breakfast and limped down to the beach.

The beach was amazing at that time of day. A few teams could be seen warming up but otherwise it was completely deserted. Even the wind had decided to sleep in and all was calm. Except for me. I was working hard to warm up and get all the stiffness out and also thinking about our game plan. We were playing Batman and Robin again. The 6’10 monster.

We had talked about how to handle these guys since we knew we’d be playing them again this morning. The most obvious step was better passing. Not so much a “choice” but nonetheless, without that step all else would fail. What we could control and execute by choice however, was to set each other a bit off the net to give the hitter room to bang around Batman’s big block. We also worked on our calls for dealing with the open net by going short at times. We’re both habitually hitters and rarely focus on short chips and shots. Bad habits from the turbo days of our youth on the grass courts perhaps.

We started out strong in the first game and gradually extended our lead never really letting up or making any major mistakes. I passed well and we won by a decent margin.

The 2nd game started out close with both teams siding out consistently. We were tied up in the mid-teens when I got 2 back to back blocks on the 6’10 monster to give us a little breathing room. I stuffed him good and it felt awesome to roof a much taller player like that. I could see them getting a bit rattled but I knew they would bear down and go out fighting. Matt was still struggling with his sets a little but since I was already expecting sets off the net (per our game plan) it was a bit easier to adjust to his sets. I gave him a perfect pass at 20-19 for an easy set to put the game away but he chucked the ball into the antenna, giving the other team a free point and tying us at 20-20. It was an exact repeat of the spastic set that sent us into overtime against Harley and Vu when I had a chance to swing for the win. I have no idea why he’d spaz out like that on crucial game points but it definitely got to me. I put aside my frustration and dug in. The game was going into overtime. Matt’s next set was off the net and I was ready for it. I put all my frustration into it and tooled it off Batmans giant hands. Not smart, but it felt good at the time. The last point was a decently long rally where we both had some nice digs and the winning point was a pokey cutty that Matt dropped in off my diving bump set.

We won. We had just beat a decent team that had beat us the day before but I didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t enjoying sweet revenge. I was frustrated. I immediately pulled Matt aside and tried to figure out why he keeps setting the ball over on crucial game winning points. I guess I felt like while he may not be able to control exactly where the set goes he should at least be able to dictate where it doesn’t go. In retrospect, I realize it was petty of me to dwel on past plays instead of staying in the moment. Even Matt’s wise words failed to make a dent in my bad attitude.

“We just won! We beat those fuckers asses! How can you not be happy? If you’re not having fun why do you even play?”

Good question my friend. The wind was starting to pick up. Combined with my bad attitude, it was not a good omen.

Our next match was against two very good friends and all around great guys, Clay and Brian from my home beach. Clay, a former pitcher, was using the rising wind and his skills from the mound to deliver some SICK floaty’s which gave us some trouble. Not a lot of shanks but less than perfect passes which taxed Matty’s ability to get the set to the net and my ability to hit a moving target off the net. I don’t think I had lost to Brian all summer but he played really good defense and got more digs than I’ve ever seen him get before. We kept it close but the wind and our own attitude eventually beat us. Towards the end of the 2nd game Matt was getting irritated by me not giving him calls on the passes. Clays knucklers were moving so much I couldn’t even tell who they were going to until the last second. Finally, after Clay aced us on a hubby-wife serve Matt started screaming and making an ugly spectacle. A few plays later he turned to the audience and started rattling to friends and strangers mid-game about something I did wrong. Conversely, I got quieter and quieter no longer able to even fake the usual enthusiasm I play with. This irritated Matt as much as his public spectacles were irritating me so the chemistry was spiraling downward. I have no idea how we even managed to keep it close.

The loss knocked us out of the tourney. We’d made it to the 2nd day and won more games than we had lost so all in all I should have been happy. But the way we lost the last one was tough to swallow. I tried to talk to Matt after the game to make sure we’re cool and try to put the train wreck behind us. He said that it wasn’t fun at all and that he’d never play in a tourney with me again. I already knew this to be true but, given the circumstances and how we had even ended up in the tourney to begin with, I found it ironic. It hurt to hear him say that. I wanted to blame the wretched insomnia but it was too late for excuses.

Khasha is out too. Apparently Sophy showed up hung over 5 minutes before the game and they never got off to a strong start. He’s already hitting the meds and slips Matt and I a pain killer each which I eagerly down as we sit to ref the next game featuring Clay and Brian. Clay rattled 10 points in a row in the next game for a 10-0 start. His floatys into the wind were really nasty and I felt a little bit better about being able to handle them at least better than this team getting creamed in front of us.

As Herm Edwards would say, “You play to win the game” or in our case, the tourney. But if you’re going to get knocked out early it’s better to lose to strangers. If you’re going to get knocked out late, it’s better to lose to friends. I guess I figure if there’s cash, prizes, or a spot on the podium at stake, I’d rather lose it to a friend. But if you’re gonna 1-2 BBQ it’s better if your friends don’t even know about it. But you know they’ll always ask.

I didn't mind losing to Clay & Brian at this stage of the tourney but I was concerned about Matt and the nagging feeling that I had let him down.

To Be Continuted ...

My Cab Ride In Amsterdam

2010-09-21T12:34:00.001-07:00

So I had to share a cab with these kids in Amsterdam. It was very entertaining. When we got to my hotel I asked the cabie to keep driving so we could hang out some more.

Seaside Part 2 - Purgatory

2010-09-21T12:03:00.000-07:00

Read Part 1 Here

Seaside is the largest tournament in North America, maybe the world, with over 120 courts and 900 teams competing on the Oregon coast. Teams come from neighboring California and Washington as well as Canada, Arizona, Idaho, Minnesota, and just about anywhere else in the US. Old friends and partners, now separated by work, family, and life rejoin to "run it" once more. The tourney features every type of division you can imagine. Father and child, coed-4s, reverse masters, Under 14, Under 18, etc. But as everyone knows, the real show is Men's doubles.

I’d been fairly disciplined about getting adequate training, rest, & nutrition during the summer. I had been sleeping well and avoiding stress or late nights. However, in early August I started experiencing periodic nights of sleeplessness. I get brief periods of insomnia every couple of years. It seems to come and go with no rhyme or reason. They say it’s caused by stress but I hadn’t been feeling all that stressed out. The summer had been fun and stress free. I would often go to bed with an empty mind but sometimes wake up around 3:00 am with my mind busy thinking about random unimportant things, unable to fall back asleep. Bareq had given me some Tylenol PM when I had trouble sleeping in Greece and it seemed to help a lot. However, it did very little to help me the night before our departure to Seaside. I took two of those little bastards and still didn’t get any sleep. When I got up in the morning I felt 10 times worse than if I had just stayed awake all night. A small sense of dread and panic was starting to prick at me. What if I can’t sleep tonight? What if I have to play like this? How bad am I going to suck?

I picked up Khasha around noon and then picked Matty up at the airport on our way south. I had a headache and felt foggy the entire day. Khasha’s voice was getting on my nerves even though I don’t think he was all that different than usual. I felt like crap until we checked in and hit the beach for a brief practice. Once I started running on the beach the fog lifted and I felt better. We played a few practice games against some other GG players and quit around 7:00 pm.

We hit the town for groceries and a quick dinner and went back to our hotel. Matt went up to Khasha’s room to watch a movie while I read “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” by Hunter S. Thompson. After a few minutes of reading I took 1 Tylenol PM, had a cup of Mullein tea, promptly went to bed, and got exactly ZERO sleep. The night was one long torturous session of tossing and turning and dreading the sunrise.

When I finally got out of bed to get ready I felt terrible. My brain was in a deep fog and my limbs felt like Jell-O. I had some oatmeal and a banana. We hit the players meeting at center court at 8:30. I checked out the tournament board and noticed we were seeded 17th out of 59 teams despite having accrued no points the past summer. I chalked this up to my points from the Alki tourney the previous summer or the fact that the board director used to play against Matt and I waaaaaaaay back in the day and labored under the illusion that we were still decent. We had a good chuckle about the low rank and name of the other team (seed 48 - Batman & Robin). Even laughing hurt my head. The smiles slowly faded from our faces once we saw the other team already warming up as we approached our court. I had to double check the court number just to make sure we were at the right one. Standing there, next to his very normal looking partner, was one of the tallest monstrosities I’ve ever seen on a beach court. We both exchanged whispered exclamations with each other but didn’t let our surprise show when we introduced ourselves and shook hands with Batman and Robin. They seemed like nice enough guys and they were both attending Seattle U where I went to grad school. Once the tall guy and Matt went to speak to the ref I casually asked Robin (I think) how tall his partner was. 6’10. I wasn’t surprised. Just to put this in perspective, Phil Dalhauser is 6’9. Not saying this kid had the same skills, but I’m just sayin’.

We got off to a terrible start. I just couldn’t pass for shit. No mater how hard I tried I could not shake off the compounding effect of multiple sleepless nights and the sleep meds still in my system. I’d been passing well during the summer, sometimes going several days without shanking a single pass. But today I was a disaster. We lost the first game swiftly but got off to a 10-4 lead in the second game (best of 3 format). An even bigger surprise was the fact that the smaller payer on the other team was the one carrying them. The big boy was not as much of a threat as we thought although you had to be careful hitting against his blocks and he swatted down a couple of my high line shots which I thought I had rolled high enough to be out of reach. Soon enough the wind picked up and I went back to crap. I must have easily had 4 or 5 botched passes that game. The final score was close but we lost the 2nd game and hence the match. We were now in the loser’s bracket.

I felt so ashamed about the way I was playing. I had just assumed that with the great summer I’d had and the fact that the sand is a little more packed and the nets a little lower at Seaside that I would be playing off the chain. But insomnia and the wind had really kicked my ass. I was embarrassed about all those phone calls I made to Matty driving home from the beach every day. Telling him about how well I was playing and hounding him to hit the beach and get his ass in shape so he wouldn’t drag me down. But now I was the anchor. The big, heavy, slow, uncoordinated anchor.

After the loss I took pictures of Khasha & Sophy and Keith & Troys games. Khasha & Sophy played very athletic and hustled well. Keith & Troy played Anthony Medel on center court. They pushed the 2nd game into overtime which is a great accomplishment against a legit AVP pro. Like Matt and I, they hadn’t played together all summer. I don’t think Keith had even played/practiced more than 3 times the whole summer.

The one upside to our loss was that it put us in a bracket that didn’t play again ‘til 4:30 p.m. This long break gave me time to wake up, get my head straight, and get the sleep meds out of my system. Our 4:30 game was against Vu and Harley, both very good longtime friends of ours. Halrey had been a V-Ball coach and Vu was a legend on the grass circuit back in the day. Matt and I used to watch and admire his high-flying partnership with Thoeum in the 90’s. He was the one who encouraged Matt and I to play in our first tourney. He said we’d be good. I recall one summer when Vu never lost a game at Greenlake no matter who he played with. Finally, Bareq broke that streak against me and someone I can’t recall and I gave him so much shit for it. “You just lost with Vu! You understand what that means? NOBODY loses with Vu. You’ll be rolling around in bed all night thinking about how YOU LOST WITH VU!” So naturally, if you’d told me back then that someday Matt and I would beat him in a tourney I’d say you were smoking crack.

We put them away easily the first game. My passing was solid again and I was able to chase down and scoop up almost every ball they hit at us. Matty was setting better too, probably since I was giving him better balls to work with. But like most smart veterans they changed their tactics in the 2nd game and kept it close. Vu got his jumpserve going and aced Matty down his line a couple of times and Harley dialed in his one foot chip shot which left me faceplanted in the sand. We had them down 20 to 18 and ready to put the nail in the coffin but another Ace by Vu and an over set by Matt tied us up at 20. I sided out and got a dig for the next 2 points and sealed the deal but I was a little peeved about how close we let the 2nd game get. I gave Vu a big hug.

Our next game came up immediately. We were instructed to go to court X and play the winner right away. Matt & Mark. Twins from Portland. We were watching them finish their match knowing that we’d play the winner and they looked horrible. Part of me was giddy inside at the prospect of getting such an easy team handed to us at this point in the tourney. But the other part of me was scared. And the deamon was whispering in my ear. “If you lose to these guys then you’re seriously terrible.”

The first game actually started close. But I got in a good jumpserve rhythm and Matt got his nasty floatys going. They couldn’t handle the heaters or the moving targets and we pulled away for an easy win. That first game ended on a bit of controversy. I gave Matt ridiculous chowder set and opened my mouth to call my own hands out of habit but quickly realized that we’re in a tourney and that’s what the ref is for. So instead I yelled “Bad … Line” and Matt crushed it. The other team was looking at me like WTF? I pointed to the ref. He said the set was fine. I felt like an asshole. Even Matt was not feeling me on that move. But I was not in a generous mood. The universe had already conspired against me with the insomnia and I wasn’t giving shit away for free. I stuck to my guns and the game was over. The combination of the swift spanking and one of the players being double booked in the mens’ and coed divisions resulted in a forfeit of the 2nd game and with that we won our 3rd match of the day. We were done. We lived to fight another day. 8:30 am the next morning to be exact. Ouch!

Making it to the 2nd day is always a primary goal for most mid-level teams. It means you didn’t get wiped out too fast and basically just prolongs the tourney experience. Downside is you get one less night of partying. Khasha joined us for a dip in the ocean and then I took some pictures of Thoeum and Kyles last game during the sunset. Thoeum was on some serious pain meds and Kyle was on blocking strike. The other team was a couple of big hammers and they really hit some heavy balls. Kyle and Thoeums aspirations retired with the sun. They were out and it was getting dark. We grabbed dinner and breakfast for the next day at the store. Even Matt was too tired to do anything but eat and shower. We both hit the sack early. I had my fingers crossed, hoping to finally get some sleep for the first time in 72 hours.

To be continued ...

Read Part 3 Here

Halo Reach

2010-09-10T12:45:00.000-07:00

So a while back I posted a touching trailer for Gears of War 2. However, it looks like this trailer from Halo Reach has outdone the former on the "tear jerker" scale. As a bonus I've also a clip from last night.

Auto Tune the News

2010-08-31T11:50:00.000-07:00

For all you people who give guys like T-Pain, Lil' Wayne, and the rest of the auto tune children a little too much credit, I just want to show you how just about any dialogue can be turned into music.

This first news clip is entertaining enough by itself. Check it out and then check out the remix below. After that, a cute little bonus clip.

Original News Clip:

The Remix:

Bonus Clip:

More quality time with my new friends

2010-08-31T11:22:00.001-07:00

Seaside Part 1 - Once More Into The Breach

2010-08-31T11:09:00.000-07:00

I took my bruises, took my lumps
Fell down and I got right back up
But I need that spark to get psyched back up
In order for me to pick a mic back up

I don't know how or why or when
I ended up in this position I'm in
I'm starting to feel distant again
So I decided just to pick this pen
Up and try to make an attempt
to vent but I just can't admit
Or come to grips with the fact
that I may be done rhymin’
I may need a new outlet

And I know some shit's so hard to swallow
But I can't just sit back and wallow
In my own sorrow
but I know one fact
I'll be one tough act to follow
Here today, gone tomorrow

- Eminem

There was no mistaking it. My customized Google news page was trying to tell me something.

Beach Volleyball – Remove

It was giving me the option to remove the beach volley section from my news page. But why? And why did none of the other news sections offer this option? World, US, Sports, Health, Sci/ Tech, Football, Video Games, … they were all on the list. But only Beach Volley had the “Remove” link in front of it. Was this due to the AVP’s recent bankruptcy? Did Google know about my miserable performance at the Seaside tourney? Or was this just a sign from God? And if so, why in the world would I, for even one second, consider taking it seriously?

I sip coffee next to my office window, watch traffic on Airport Road, and reflect on the past decade. How did I get here?

10 years ago I was driving down that same road in a mad rush to Greenlake with R2D2 by George Acosta bumpin’ in my Jeep, trying to beat the Boeing rush hour before getting stuck in traffic or losing the best courts to some hacks. Matty would be meeting me there and we’d soon set up the yellow Jose` Cuervo net, crank up the house anthems on the boombox, and take on all comers. And you best not chip or try that finess crap on our net or you’d swiftly be escorted out by security. Athletes only. THIS - IS - JOSE` !!! But that was a long time ago. Matty moved away and I have since switched to playing in the sand to spare my back and knees further agony. Chips and finesse is all I have left now. But the beach games not all that bad. In fact, the lifestyle is right up my alley.

Something about being at the beach fills me with joy. Life is simple at the beach. People are generally nice. On the weekends, when I take the kids to my games, long after the players have gassed out and the nets have come down, I stay on the beach with the kids. We bump the ball around and play other games they invent on the spot. Sometimes we walk down to the end of the beach, exploring for shells and other sea life. I am whole on the sand. No shirt. No Shoes. No problems. And when I bring the kids home and wash those black streaks off their faces and bellies in the tub as they giggle and shampoo each others hair, laughing at their shampoo Mohawks, I lay on the bathroom floor with icepacks on my shoulder, back, and knees and I feel like the best dad in the world.

I sometimes jokingly refer to volleyball as “my job” and my actual job as “that other thing I do for money”. I don’t know how sane or healthy it is to think this way for someone in my position. I just know that it makes me happy. But the sport is not all roses and groovy vibes. It can be scary and, at times, haunting. One of those very rare sports with 2-man teams. You don't have the security and anonymity of large team sports. I remember feeling safe in the huddle. 10 other guys all seeing and feeling the same thing as you. You also don't have the freedom and guilt-free independence of individual sports. Despite being competitive in track and swimming, even the worst performance didn't bother me for very long. My results were mine and mine alone. No one else cared or suffered from my shortcomings and I was comfortable with that. But there was also no one to share the highs with. I think that might be why I always had a stronger passion for relay races. Sharing the race with 3 other guys gave it value and excitement.

But volleyball ... you MUST have chemistry. You must know your partners tendencies. You gotta feel him. The 2 man dynamic is very intense. You're basically the entire rest of the team for your partner. If he's playing well and you're still losing it's all on you. There's no coach, no substitute, no place to hide. This sport is not for mental midgets. It will test your will, your endurance, your focus, your character, and most importantly your heart. The winningest team at the beach where I train is a pair of 40 somethings. They’re unassuming enough and do not appear highly athletic. When separated, they're as beatable as the rest of us. But put them together, in a serious game, and none of the krafty*1 veterans or high-flying youth can touch them.

This is the chemistry that Matt and I shared in our 20’s. We consistently beat more experienced and athletic teams by virtue of our chemistry and conditioning. But that was a long time ago. Ten years, a shoulder surgery, a knee surgery, 2 compressed discs, infinite pulled or torn muscles, 2 kids, 2 mortgages, and 2 weddings have come and gone (well … not entirely gone) between the two of us. To say that we’re mere shadows of our former selves would be an understatement.

During the prior Fall and Winter, as I was rehabbing my back with poor results and the situation seemed dire, I made a decision that if I could just get back to playing the game for fun I’d be grateful. I didn’t care about tournaments, competition, or winning anymore. I just wanted to play again. I wanted to do it for the same reasons I started playing in the first place. Reasons which I had gradually forgotten. Sometimes the love of the game and joy of playing with your friends takes a back seat to things like winning, points, rankings, and in the case of the truly talented, money. I'd been on both side of this equation. Like most I started playing the game for fun. Something you do with your friends. Gradually, if you manage to get better and retain your passion for the game, the circle of people you want to play with and against shrinks. You have no time to waste on beginners and hacks. Forgetting that you yourself were once a young hack. Forgetting that if it wasn't for the kind and generous nature of the veterans that came before you, the ones who took you under their wing and taught you the game instead of pointing you to the lower courts, you still might be a hack.

Eventually, there's only a group of 20 or so people which you want to play with. The problem is that you will most likely not share much in common with them on a personal level. Sure you both play the same sport but the likelihood that you’d have really close personal friends in this circle is low. I'd placed 9th out of 56 teams at seaside a few years ago with James in my pre-spinal days. The relationship between James and I could be called formal at best. Although immensely talented, James was an introvert by nature, and what most would consider "Humorless". I honestly don't think I ever heard him laugh although he did crack a few smiles or occasionally raise his voice in a heated match, "NICE SHOT PARTNER !!!" We were relatively successful but I wasn't playing with my friends anymore. Since Matt moved to SanDiego I'd been a bit of a volleyball slut, playing with whoever was stupid or desperate enough to play with a beat-up 5-9er on the wrong side of 30.

At some point in the summer, shortly after we returned from Colin’s wedding in Greece, Matt brought up the idea to play together at Seaside. “I just wanna come up and see the fellas and play some games together”. Several players had already asked me to play at Seaside with them but I said I wasn't healthy enough to train properly for tournament level play (nor did I care to) but when Matty asked I couldn’t say no. He insisted that it was my idea and that I brought it up in Greece when we were playing quite a bit (almost every other day) but frankly I don’t recall that conversation. But I did recall that we played well together and my back wasn’t hurting much anymore. I had discovered a warmup routine that seemed to manage my back pain while also providing endless jabs and humiliation from the boys at the beach. I basically had to hump the sand in various positions for about 30 minutes and I’d be good to go. Ofcourse not a day went by that I didn’t have to hear some crack about “sand babies”, “Jane Fonda”, “Humping the sky”, “Kiegel Excercises”, “Putting my back into it”, “Respecting the family beach”, etc. from the guys.

So now my old compadre was asking me to play with him again. I had logged a lot of pain-free hours on the sand during the summer and felt very confident. And to be honest, I was excited to hit the trenches one more time.

To be continued …

Read Part 2 Here

*1 Misspelling intentional.

Some friends I met along the way

2010-08-24T13:29:00.001-07:00

Buzz Kill Nation

2010-07-21T12:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I'm finishing a late sunset ball session at the beach I may have a beer or two before I head home. I can't begin to recall how many times I've been pulled over by the Bothell-MillCreek police driving home late at night. Shirtless, middle-aged, male in Yellow xTerra. Usually for something lame like doing 48 in a 35 or some silly shit like that. The conversation is always the same.

Hands on 10 & 2. Cops like seeing your hands. It disarms them. Be calm but concise.

"Good evening. You know why I pulled you over?"

"No sir."

"You were blah blah blah"

"hmmm ... fair enough" (you can see him relax a little)

"License and registration please."

"May I reach in the glove box sir." (always ask permission, they love it)

"Yes"

I get out the paperwork but leave the glove box open. Shows you have nothing to hide.

"Here you go sir."

He briefly glances at the documents.

"You live here in Bothell?"

"Yes sir. About a mile North of here by Mays Pond."

"Where are you coming from?"

"I was playing volleyball at Golden Gardens."

"What is that? A restaurant?"

"No sir. It's a beach near Ballard."

"Have you had any Alcohol tonight?"

"Yes. I had one beer after I finished playing … about an hour ago."

If you have ANY alcohol in your system you must tell the truth. Not necessarily about the amount but just the fact that you had a drink. If you say no and they make you blow it will show that you lied and everything will be a worst case scenario after that.

"Just one?"

"Yes sir."

"Would you be willing to do a voluntary roadside sobriety test"

I always agree to this because A) I know my BAC is below the legal limit and B) I kill these tests.

I know how these things work but I need to feign a little bit of ignorance to come off authentic.

"No problem. Do you need me to blow in something?"

"No I just need you to step out of the vehicle and perform some tests for me."

"May I step out now?"

"Yes follow me."

I follow him to the back of the car. This part is a little embarrassing. Shirtless men driving around after dark in Bothell on a March evening are non-existent. Show me one, covered in sand, barefoot, and doing a sobriety test for cops on the side of the road and I'll show you a less than confident character. I just hope the neighbors don't drive by.

He proceeds to ask me to do some silly shit I could do in my sleep like stand on one foot, walk a certain way, or follow some light with my eye without moving my head. The trick to this last one is that he will intentionally move the light outside of your peripheral vision. When he does that, keep your head steady and keep your eyes at the limit of their peripheral range. You're no longer be focused on the light and he knows this but that's OK. Just don't move your head.

As I'm standing there, usually on one foot, I'm thinking "Do you know what I do? Do you know where I just came from? Do you know I just spent the last 6 hours performing acts of balance and coordination infinitely more difficult than the crap you're asking me to do right now?"

Ofcourse I don't ask these questions because I know that he, like the rest of America, has no idea. Naturally, I nail the test.

"You said one beer right?"

"Yes sir."

"How big was the beer?"

"Standard." (slight smirk, only if the cop is cool)

"Please return to your vehicle. I'll be with you in a moment."

I sit in my car and check my pulse just for shits and giggles. 54. About 10 beats above my resting rate but still pretty good considering the circumstances.

He comes back with my license and no ticket.

"Here you go man. Watch your speed."

"Thank you sir."

I take the "Man" in his last exchange to mean: "You're a cool guy. I wish everyone we pulled over was like you." Of course, I'm just guessing here.

What I loved about Greece

2010-07-01T15:38:00.000-07:00

I loved our hotel in Athens and the fact that for 3 days nothing went wrong, everyone got along, and all coincidences were fortuitous.

I loved Parissa beach in Santorini. Black sand, legit volleyball court surrounded by beach beds and the sickest beats on the island. Khasha blossomed into a veteran baller. B-Sack and Keith came out of retirement. Matt and I regulated like rough riders. The girls danced on the bar.

I loved Colin and Gayle's wedding. It was amazingly beautiful. Took place in the picturesque city on Oia above the oceanside cliffs.

I loved driving nothing but a quad my whole time in Mykonos and getting lost with Matty at sunset. Superparadise. Watching the sun go down over the mountains with Jen and then getting on the quad and and climbing the mountain only to watch it go down again over the ocean with Mack driving in front of us and Matt and Diane behind us.

MEEEEEKOOOOONOOOOOOOOS!!!!

I loved Panoramous beach where the owner had set up the sickest beach bar and super legit v-ball court. A huge v-ball fan, he was so stoked to have 3 legit ballers to play with that he fully VIP'd us. Matty and I barely got by on him and Khasha in a best of 5 series. 3-2. Won game 5 in overtime 23-21 with all other games decided by 2 points (the lowest possible margin of victorty in v-ball). On our last day we got toasted on frozen Mojitos and rode our quads home at sunset. Kids, don't try this at home.

I loved that Jen was happy most of the time and had a blast with the girls. The ladies let the guys have their alone time and it was nice. Made the evenings even more romantic.

My Speech at Colin's Wedding

2010-06-15T15:29:00.000-07:00

Colin's wedding in Santorini, Greece was absolutely epic. I'll be posting a brief trip blog shortly and photos can be found at My Shutterfly Page. Here's my speech:

I think I can speak for everyone when I say thanks to Colin and Gayle for picking such a fantastic place to get married. It has provided us with the impetus to take a great vacation with great friends. I always love that about destination weddings.

I want to start by telling you guys a little story about the night Colin and Gayle met. We were at a Sushi place for a friend’s birthday. I think it was either Paul or Dallas. I can’t remember. We’re seated at several small tables and Colin and I end up sharing a table with Chris Borsheim. At some point during dinner I go to the bathroom. When I come back, I notice that Liz and some stunning blond bombshell have taken my seat. They quickly apologized and offered to get up and give me my seat back. Of course being the perceptive and dedicated wingman that I pride myself to be, I thought to myself “there is no way I’m letting this beauty leave Colin’s side”. I declined and insisted that the stay there since I wanted to catch up with folks at the other tables anyway.

And the rest, as they say, is history. So all you guys having a good time tonight …. you have ME to thank for this trip. Just buy me a drink later and we’ll call it even.

I met Colin in the early 90’s at a number of house parties in the Seattle area. We had some friends in common and Colin seemed like he was always happy and excited to be out. He remembered my name and we chatted a few times. I recall one night he got stuck at a party with no ride so I drove him to the next venue and we chatted on the way. I really got to like him after that drive.

A few years later we found ourselves involved in a small group of young entrepreneurs. We spent a few years trying to patent an invention and bring a new product to market. And although the entire venture failed gloriously, the experience allowed us to spend a lot of time together and brought us closer.

I was pretty burned out on trying to get rich by the end of that ordeal and wanted to get back to sports, travel, and enjoying life in general. Colin had just moved to my neighborhood and suggested we should work out together. For the next few years we worked out together at least 5 days a week. It was very therapeutic to see a close friend every day and bond over the course of hard work. We were sober, lucid, and traversed vast intellectual terrains during those workouts. We also got in the best shape of our lives because we looked forward to every workout and pushed each other. We were so active and busy at that time. It seems like there were a couple of summers where we were out of town on one adventure or another almost every weekend. Every month or so would consist of events that by today’s standards would be the highlight of the entire year.

Throughout these adventures, one of the traits I came to admire and love most about Colin was his ability to actually enjoy adversity. Weather it’s a highly unsafe and life threatening climb, or getting lost in the rain forest, or careening down a class 5 rapid … The harsher the conditions the bigger the smile on his face.

There is aquote, by Jackson Brown of all people, that goes something like:
"Our character is what we do when no one is looking."

And I gotta admit … as much as it drives me crazy sometimes, Colin is precisely the type of guy who always does the right thing even when no one is looking. We could be 20 miles from the closest sign of civilization and he’ll get on your ass for leaving a candy wrapper on the forest floor or not burying your poop.

Now I must admit, I got along fairly well with the last couple of girls that Colin dated and I would get a little bummed whenever those relationships ended. Some of them were cool girls and at times I would wonder if Colin really knew what he wanted. I wondered if he, perhaps, had some impossibly high or unreasonable standards or if the perfect girl for him even existed.

Well, it turns out that he DID know what he was doing and although his standards were high, they were also wise. Gayle, I liked those other girls a lot … but, sweetheart, they can’t even hold a candle to you. You are wonderful and I’m so glad I gave up my seat that night at the sushi joint.

You know traditionally, part of a wedding speech involves dispensing advice to the bride and groom. Especially when the speaker’s been married for close to a decade himself.

So here it goes ….. DON’T DO IT !!!!!!

But seriously, you guys seem to have such a healthy and well balanced relationship that I honestly can’t think of any advice that would be genuine.

I guess the one thing I can say is no matter how stressful life becomes remember to be honest with each other. Remember, that you’re on the same team. You can be the shoulder the other relies on or the arm that cuts them down. There’s nothing worse than dreading your own home life. Make your home a warm and safe heaven where you can escape the life’s trials and tribulations.

Remember that if you ever put your marital problems on the back burner they are sure to boil over.

When Riley was born, there were 4 people waiting outside the delivery room. My parents, my brother, and Colin. And I gotta tell you … I can’t wait until the day that I get to rush to the hospital and hold that little d’Hondt in my arms. Colin, I’m honored to be your friend and proud to be by your side today.

Let’s raise our glasses to toast the new couple.

Here is to my friend and his lovely bride. May the candle of your love burn brightest in the darkest hours and never flicker in the winds of trial.

To the bride & groom.

We live in exponential times

2010-05-05T11:35:00.001-07:00

E-Mail from Mom

2010-04-14T10:25:00.000-07:00

OH, SO NOW YOU GET MAD?!?
We had the eight years of Bush and Cheney, now you get mad!

You didn't get mad when the Supreme Court stopped a legal recount and appointed a President.
You didn't get mad when Cheney allowed Energy company officials to dictate energy policy.
You didn't get mad when a covert CIA operative got ousted.
You didn't get mad when the Patriot Act got passed.
You didn't get mad when we illegally invaded a country that posed no threat to us.
You didn't get mad when we spent over 600 billion(and counting) on said illegal war.
You didn't get mad when over 10 billion dollars just disappeared in Iraq.
You didn't get mad when you found out we were torturing people.
You didn't get mad when the government was illegally wiretapping Americans.
You didn't get mad when we didn't catch Bin Laden.
You didn't get mad when you saw the horrible conditions at Walter Reed.
You didn't get mad when we let a major US city drown.
You didn't get mad when we gave a 900 billion tax break to the rich.
You didn't get mad when, using reconciliation; a trillion dollars of our tax dollars were redirected to insurance companies for Medicare Advantage which cost over 20 percent more for basically the same services that Medicare provides.
You didn't get mad when the deficit hit the trillion dollar mark, and our debt hit the thirteen trillion dollar mark.

You finally got mad when the government decided that people in America deserved the right to see a doctor if they are sick.

Yes, illegal wars, lies, corruption, torture, stealing your tax dollars to make the rich richer, are all okay with you, but helping other Americans ... oh , HELL NO!

Doesn't it seem that something is seriously wrong with the thinking of some Americans?

Indiscriminate killing by US military.

2010-04-06T12:45:00.000-07:00

WikiLeaks has released a classified US military video depicting the indiscriminate slaying of over a dozen people in the Iraqi suburb of New Baghdad -- including two Reuters news staff. Reuters has been trying to obtain the video through the Freedom of Information Act, without success since the time of the attack. The video, shot from an Apache helicopter gun-site, clearly shows the unprovoked slaying of a wounded Reuters employee and his rescuers. Two young children involved in the rescue were also seriously wounded. For further information please visit the special project website http://www.collateralmurder.com/.

Speaking Up

2010-04-02T13:36:00.000-07:00

My first protest ever. Passed out flyers and held signs by King County Courthouse regarding Troys assailants never getting prosecuted despite a long history of violence. The conditions were harsh, cold, wet, & windy. Only 10 of us showed up. I was happy to be there.

To sin by silence, when we should protest,
Makes cowards out of men. The human race
Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised
Against injustice, ignorance, and lust,
The inquisition yet would serve the law,
And guillotines decide our least disputes.
The few who dare, must speak and speak again
To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,
No vested power in this great day and land
Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry
Loud disapproval of existing ills;
May criticise oppression and condemn
The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws
That let the children and childbearers toil
To purchase ease for idle millionaires.
Therefore I do protest against the boast
Of independence in this mighty land.
Call no chain strong, which holds one rusted link.
Call no land free, that holds one fettered slave.
Until the manacled slim wrists of babes
Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee,
Until the mother bears no burden, save
The precious one beneath her heart, until
God’s soil is rescued from the clutch of greed
And given back to labor, let no man
Call this the land of freedom.

— ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

The best Facebook political debate ever

2010-03-31T09:46:00.000-07:00

By Kelly [Redacted]

So my friend from high school puts this post on his facebook one afternoon and I simply replied to it. My friend is a libertarian, whatever the hell that means, but to me it means it's a party of people that are never going to get elected so therefore they are irrelevant. But anyway, it started off like this. (since my friend deleted this from his wall because it pretty fucking ugly, I had to transcribe this from my phone, luckily I type 80 words a minute.)

Freddie McDonald: Ny Times says today that everything part of this new health care bill is nothing more than a redistribution of wealth! ATT just announced it will lose 1 billion dollars due to health care after it was able to read all of the fine points of the bill. CBO just announced the health care bill will add an extra 9.8 trillion to our defecit over the next 10 years. Don't expect unemployment to go down unless you work for the IRS!

Kelly [Redacted]: Don't you think that that article is a bit inflammatory? I mean we don't have a clue as to how this whole health care thing is going to turn out. I can think of all kinds of bills that either passed or didn't pass or legislation that was passed or repealed that didn't turn out to hurt or help as much as anybody thought it could or would. Who wrote that article by the way, Glen Beck? LOL

Freddie McDonald: LOL, now that would be news, Glenn Beck writing an article for the New York Times!

(at this point his staunch libertarian friend joins the conversation)

Garry Shitstain Leavy: That would never happen, Glenn back isn't a liberal scumbag! BTW are you the one that fired a shot at Rep. Eric Cantor's (R) office Kelly? LOL

Kelly [Redacted]: Well, I've only read a few things on the health care bill and the health care debate but what I do know doesn't seem nearly as horrible as everybody is saying. I mean the way things seem to go today is like this. A guy with no insurance gets the sniffles, doesn't go to the Dr. Then the sniffles turn into a cold which turns into pneumonia and the next thing you know is guy with no insurance ends up in the emergency room, where I'm pretty sure he cannot be turned away, he is treated and his bill is now $2,000 which he also will never pay, the hospital writes it off as a loss and therefore reduces their tax liability by $700. Doesn't it make more sense to cure the sniffles for $50 then to cure them for $700? Either way it eats into our tax base. And didn't they have the same fears in Great Britian and Canada when they "socialized" their medical system? That seems to be working out OK and seems to be the model of what we are shooting for? But what do I know I'm just a tree hugging Left Coast liberal.

Garry Shitstain Leavy: Did you really say Britain and Canada are doing just fine? LMFAO! Let's educate Kelly! 1. They're both BROKE! 2. This bill doesn't even HAVE a public option like the countries you mentioned! 3. It is UNCONSTITUTIONAL to force Americans to buy something from a private company which is exactly what this bill does! Read something other than whatever liberal rag you get every morning and expand your universe. Jesus!"

Freddie McDonald: I hope ur right kk but don't think so! Also, I seen some of those trees u hug! They got some nice tits! Lmao! I grew up with KK in high school n college Boo! You peel off that liberal layer and he's not bad! Lol But also, I just like to know if this healthcare bill is so good, why did congress and all the administration opt out of it? Shouldn't they lead by example?

Kelly [Redacted]: Hey, no I agree. The guys who create the laws and pass the bills and therefore make the rules, they seem to always get whatever they want and you are right, that isn't good. There is a double standard and that does need to stop, if you are in Congress you are still an American citizen and you should abide by the same rules that everybody else does. And just so you know Gary, I was a republican when I was in the Army and when I got out and was living in Chicago. I voted for Bush in '88. But once I moved out West I slowly turned into a Democrat. I voted for Clinton twice, Bush Jr. once, and then Democrat ever since and probably for life. Living on the West Coast surrounded by forests that you want to see kept around and an Ocean that you want to see kept swimmable can do that to you. But hey I gotta run, there is a pinetree waiting for me in the lobby with some beautiful limbs and a nice set of pinecones waiting to take me to lunch!

Freddie McDonald: I guess I would turn liberal too if I had all those pinecones and pussywillows around me constantly! Lmao!"

Garry Shitstain Leavy: Me too! If I lived in "Everyone should love everyone and be happy" land! LMFAO

(At this point I go back to work thinking this conversation is done, I go and run some errands and while out I get this from Gary who apparently has started drinking)

Garry Shitstain Leavy: Where'd ya go Kelly? BTW. Sorry I assumed you had a vagina because of your name. But obviously you would still suck dick. Obama's at least! LMFAO! Douche bag!"

Kelly [Redacted]: Gary, is that were you are taking this, really? Is this the road that we are going down? Look, I'm sorry I ever joined in the debate. Were all friends here. I'm pretty sure there is no need to start attacking each other personally. Have a good night buddy.

Garry Shitstain Leavy: Friends? Not you and I at least! Take your tree hugging liberal bullshit some where else away from me "Kelly"! You are part of the death of this nation for my kids and my grand children! So... Thanks for that!

(OK, so now I'm getting fucking pissed, I debate all day every day for a living. 90% of my clients don't want to invest right now because they think Obama is going to turn our nation into a communist Russia or worse, while having some tree hugging liberal clients at one branch my other branch consists of military and ex-military, America loving, God fearing, Fox watching, 100% white as the driven snow, clients who may or may not be racist although I'm often shocked at how freely the "N" word is used at my desk. So if this guy wants to debate I'll debate and if he wants to get ugly then fuck it, let's get ugly)

Kelly [Redacted]: Typical republican, when you clearly aren't intelligent or informed enough to have a debate like a real man you start to either attack people personally or turn violent. Who is the douche now?

Garry Shitstain Leavy: You're the douche that thinks your savior passed some sort of socialized healthcare! LOL Read the bill ya retard! And by the way, I'm a Libertarian! Not Republican! So suck my dick you "Give all the freeloaders shit for free" public entitlement fuck! You're kind disgusts me! You are the cancer of this nation!"

(At this point my buddy jumps back into the fray to try to create some levity.)

Freddie McDonald: Can't we all just get along? Lmao! You two love birds have fun! I have a hottie coming over and were going to create our own healthcare bill! ;) LOL

(and then later adds)

Freddie McDonald: In this corner we have Gary "strap a panda on my Suv and drive thru a gay pride parade" LeVault vs Kelly "flying in his learjet across country to give a speech on energy conservation" [Redacted]! LMAO! Now that's some funny shit no matter who you are! Lol"

(I'm driving home at this point and can't really type anything)

Garry Shitstain Leavy: LMFAO

(Now I'm home and I click on his photo to see who I'm dealing with. He's my age, 70 pounds overweight, bald, incredibly unappealing double chin, I flip through his pictures, lots of cartoons of Obama with a hitler moustache, etc., this guy is a teabagger in more ways than one)

Kelly [Redacted]: Gary, you crack me up man. You are so lost it's not even funny. You really don't have a clue. You probably have no problem that half of our tax dollars are going to fight a war that is most likely as unwinnable as Vietnam. Under Clinton we were running massive budget surpluses and now we are running massive defecits, mostly thanks to George Bush. And now as a result about 25% of our tax dollars just go to service the debt. And BTW I've probalby paid more taxes this year than you've paid in the last 10. If anybody should be a Republican it should be me. But I'm not, and I'm not because altough Republicans preach small government it never happens under their watch, they expand the government everytime with corporate welfare, tax breaks for the rich, cold wars, nuclear missle programs, etc. So again, if you want to debate we can debate but if you want to get personal we can go that route too, I just checked out your pictures and you are a pretty easy target my friend. But I'm giving you one final chance to be a human being and then, ya know, I can get pretty fucking vindictive myself.

Kelly [Redacted]: And by the way it was Bush who approved and began TARP and other economic recovery programs (more free dollars for corporate America) which is now in the 10's of trillions probably more than this health bill will ever cost, so what do you have to say about that? Somehow I'm sure you are going to blame the current regime right?

Garry Shitstain Leavy:You saw shit ya hippie! Whatever you have, bring it! Fact is, when tax breaks happen, business grows, hence they hire more people! Isn't that what America is calling for right now?! Not healthcare! Not cap and tax?! Jobs! How dare you bring up Reagan! You should be convicted for treason! You're what I spend a good part of my time protecting my daughters from! By the way? How many kids you got?

Kelly [Redacted]: Hippie? Sheesh, that's a good one. Trickle down economics, so that's your plan? We'll we've had that now for about 30 years, if you had a lick of knowledge you would probably know that Obama hasn't raised any taxes on anybody yet but probably should, and if you ever took an econ course you would know that there is a natural 35 year business cycle at play here and that we are in the midst of a recovery, and if you ever did some reading you would know that the stock market recovers first then the economy and then lastly the unemployment rate as the stock market is a LEADING indicator and the jobless rate is a LAGGING indicator. And so since corporate tax rates are already historically low and they are still not hiring then what is your solution then for that, there, Warren Buffet of Schiller Park? And as far as kids go, because I'm still trying to be diplomatic with your retarded ass to see if you actually know anything, instad of saying the only kids that I know that I have for sure are the two that live in your home, instead I'm going to say, nunya. And lastly, trust me, if you ever find yourself unemployed it won't be because the economy is bad but because you sir are an asshole.

Garry Shitstain Leavy: Do you have a life? And the best part is no matter how you wake up tomorrow your name will still be "Kelly". LMFAO! Follow me on Twitter too ya faggot! @reverendsoupcan LOL Liberals! LOL

Kelly [Redacted]: Dude, I could bust your balls for being overweight, for being bald, for having a double chin, but still I'm not going to sink to your level, I'm just going to feel sorry for you, you will probably wake up someday lonely and miserable because nobody who doesn't agree with all of your inane positions in life will want to have anything to do with you, I have plenty of Republican friends and we can have normal debates but you have to take it to a shitty place because let's face it, you aren't smart enough or educated enough to debate me like a man, because inside you are a very scared, little child who's mamma didn't hug him enough or something when he was a little boy, and ya know it's scumbags like you that use the world faggot that are 150% morely likely to go online and check out gay porn, that's a scientific fact, look into it, so before you hop onto youporn tonight just try to keep it on the "straight" side ok there? And good luck in life with that attitude, there is karma in this world and I don't wish this on anyone but it's likely that you will soon end up unemployed and you will be looking for a handout, some free healthcare for one of your (our) kids, wic, foodstamps, unemployment, all those dirty little socialist programs designed to help those in need but I hope by then that none of those programs exist, or maybe you get seriously hurt on the job or have a heart attack and can't work, I'm telling you man, the Universe doles good and bad out perfectly to those who deserve it, so then maybe at this point you might have some compassion for the guy who fell down on his luck, but whatever dude I'm done with you , you've got nothing

(turns out this dude has been unemployed for about 6 months now and he does something in the healthcare field, not sure what but from the conversation we're having I'm guessing hospital janitor)

Garry Shitstain Leavy: If I ever see you, friend Freds from high school or not, I will knock your fuckin' teeth down you're throat you fuckin' shit talkin' asshole! Wait for it bitch! You fuck! Oh! And was that what you were waiting for nigger lover? Me to lose it? You're a fuckin' Nazi and you can live with that! But I promise you ass licker! If I ever fuckin' meet you face to face I will shove my cock down your throat.

Kelly [Redacted]: Dude, bring it on anytime. I will get in a ring with you anytime, I will take the gloves off anytime. But a douchebag like you I'm sure will come packing heat (cause I know you Libertarians loves your guns) or bring a shiv or a bunch of your Libertarian buddies. I have no doubt I could kick your ass, you'd be winded after 30 seconds are you kidding me? I'll call you before I come to town, Fred you can referee. LOL, douchebag, like I said, peace out, ya got nothing.

Freddie McDonald: While you two keep arguing over something neither one of you can control, I am with a sexy woman! Whose the smartest of them all? LOL I win.. You both would actually like each other if you met. Well maybe before you two starting getting personal? who knows but its time for me to end this crap.. I am removing this post.. Later.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Editors Note
The scariest thing about this dialogue is the realization that there's only 3 degrees of separation between me and this mouth breather.

Cool Guys Don't Look at Explosions

2010-03-23T13:13:00.001-07:00

They turn around and walk away.

Drunk & Dumber

2010-03-23T12:40:00.000-07:00

The following story is 93% true. The other 7% was fabricated or omitted to protect the guilty and make me look cooler than I really am. Names have been altered to protect me from potential lawsuits.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The male doesn't age as we think. In fact, he doesn't age at all. He assimilates, placates and slows, accepts the reality around him and plays what he's told to play. But just a little bit deeper, a scratch below the mask, he's eighteen-to-thirty forever, and every now and again, in the right combination of circumstances, with the right mix of triggers or enticements, that selfish, single minded monkey will break out and escape the cage. And flowing from his greed, gluttony or vice, or a combination of the three at once, a trail of damage will follow. But he'll never be directly blamed. It'll all be collateral damage, the sort of thing that happens when you lock the animal down too tightly, rob him of natural releases.

- PhilaLawyer

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's all get drunk tonight.
I hope I don't fight with a punk tonight.
Let's all get high tonight.
Maybe nobody will die tonight.
Let's all pack yay tonight.
I hope I don't go back to jail tonight.
Let's all hit the club tonight.
Find a woman that wanna make love tonight.

Let's get dumb, drink some rum.
Make my teeth and gums feel real numb.
We'll be thinkin’ 'bout survivin’
while we're drinkin’ and we're drivn’.
Hope I don't wreck when my vision gets blurry.
Sober up lookin’ at an all white jury.
Judge don't like no drunk like me.
Punk might give me strike number three.

Cuz when I'm drunk and when I'm high
I don't give a damn 'bout a DUI.
Let's just get lit, dance like a nitwit,
try to talk to the women that we can't get with.
Me and my staff make everybody laugh
If the beer runs out, we can all go half.
It's Friday night. Got the perfect weather.
C’mon fellas lets get drunk together.

- AfroMan

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2:45 a.m…

That’s me in the corner of the hot tub, doing my best impression of a bowling ball with arms wrapped around my knees. My legs are logs of jello and my back is in knots, fighting the jets pounding it into submission. Having spent the past 21 hours on my feet, skiing deep pow on top of Blackcomb and partying in the village, I’ve managed to ride the momentum and a nice buzz into to this warm corner. But I’m starting to hit a wall. I have to muster up all the strength I can just to keep from sinking to the bottom. The steam has fogged up the living room glass next to us. Trickles of perspiration roll down the glass, clearing up streams of visibility, allowing me to catch a zebra patterned glimpse of what the boys inside are up to. I reach around the tub, grab some snow, and nail B who’s trying to take a picture of us.

“You guys look so fuckin’ gay!”

I wonder why. I look around. Wow, 8 dudes in a 4 man hot tub. OK, maybe this does look a little gay. I take inventory. With the exception of Jake, I’ve known everyone here for over a decade, 15 to 20 years in some cases. What I do know about Jake is enough to put him on par with most of the crew. To my right are Alan and Tom, beach boys I’ve been ballin’ with since college. I met Alan the first day of my freshman year. To my left is James who I met when he was 17, dancing and pulling chicks at Pier 70 with a fake ID. Next to him sits Kevin, the tragic romantic who occasionally contributes to this blog and quite possibly the unluckiest guy on the planet. Then there’s Jake on the opposite corner, Mikey’s bro from SanDiego. Mikey, my main dawg, sits across from me and Kyle, the Owen Wilson-esque Republican intellectual, sits to his left.

Inside is James’s older brother Josh, a comrade from the original rave days circa 1991. Dave who now lives in Cali is from the old Boeing days. He calls me the hub. Borax the infamous Afghan trouble maker was in Kane’s fraternity and Kane, well, he’s my brother. I met Caden at the house parties in the early 90’s and now we’re here for his bachelor party. I’m the best man.

I think about B’s gay comment. Nope, nothing but stable cats here. I’m confident of this. I’m wrong.

I hear the deck door slam and look up in time to see Alvin running towards the hot tub with a huge bottle of red wine, bouncing on his tippy toes to minimize contact with the snow. He slips and trips into the tub, somehow managing to twist his body and keep the bottle upright and above water. He pops out of the water like Shamu, holds the bottle of wine with a Hitler salute, and screams:

“We’re so fucked. You wanna know how fucked we are? I’ll show you!”

He brings the bottle to his lips and I assume he’s going to chug the whole thing as a dramatic testament to how “fucked” we are; a meaningless gesture which I assume somehow only makes sense to him at this moment. He surprises me. He just takes a tiny sip and silently lowers the bottle from his mouth. He stares into the abyss, as if the sip of wine has suddenly filled him with a profound epiphany. He’s standing in the hot tub, steam slowly rising from his rotund belly like curls of smoke.

After a pregnant pause, the beach boys in my corner lose it. We start laughing uncontrollably at his anti-climactic gesture, intended to prove how “fucked” we were.

Tom: “Oh no, the cops are coming.”
Alan: “We’re all going to jail.”
Me: “Just arrest us right now and get it over with.”

Alvin's gone. Booze & god knows what else have replaced the high IQ and quick wit with a bovine gaze, slurred speech, and fried logic circuits. I’ve seen that look before and I know exactly what it means. He’s going to jail or getting his ass kicked.

He repeats the same 3 phrases over and over again.

“This is so gay.” (enraged)

“We’re so fucked.” (morose)

“This is so fun.” (jovial)

Mikey, ever the instigator, begins to pick up on Alvin's internal conflict and insecurity regarding his proximity to a group of half clothed males and decides to exacerbate his turmoil. He slaps Alvin’s ass and claims that Kevin did it. Then he performs fake oral on an unwilling Alvin as video cameras roll around us. He grabs Alvin from behind and squeezes his fat folds together, creating a fake vagina and asking the audience “Who wants to fuck this?”

Jake seems pleased by the fact that this fiasco is being immortalized on film. “This is so awesome. My wife’s gonna be so pumped when she sees this.” I’m the only one who can relate, the only one who laughs.

Finally, when Kevin opens a condom in the tub I decide I’ve had enough and bolt out. Kyle and a couple of other sane guys do the same. I go upstairs to change. Kane passes out in our room. Just as I’m putting on some dry shorts, a heard of elephants stampedes through the hallway followed by a sound as iconic and ubiquitous as the national anthem: baritone yells of cheer and astonishment only drunk males can produce.

I quickly get dressed and step out the room only to be greeted by quite possibly one of the strangest and most disturbing sights I have ever seen. Mikey is running out of his room buck naked with a look of terror and amusement on his face. Alvin is chasing him. He’s looks all business. Mike circles back into the bathroom that leads to his bedroom hoping to lose his maniacal pursuer. My CPU goes into overdrive, trying to make sense what I just saw. Finally, I decide that I need to forget about the whole thing before I fry the motherboard.

Just breathe.

I go downstairs to find out what’s going on only. Before I can open my mouth I hear a rumpling behind me and turn to see Alvin and his naked quarry rolling down the stairs in a blurry heap of denim and flesh. The situation is quickly getting out of hand. Mikey runs upstairs while Alvin walks around with his arms raised, confident that dragging a naked guy out of bed and rolling down the stairs with him has definitely earned him some cool points in the alternate universe in which his mind currently resides. His next mistake puts him in the pantheon of poor bastards who get fucked up and then fuck up.

When I was a kid, we used to go swimming at Buffalo Bayou in Houston. There were some cliffs that we used to dive into the Bayou. Then there was Bradley’s drop. A 90 foot cliff that no one ever dared jump from. It got its name from the last poor soul who decided to jump off of it and died 2 days later from internal injuries. We used to sit at the top of it every day, eating sandwiches, joking, and laughing. It was something we were very close to and spent a lot of time with. But it was also a line we never crossed.(1)

I once saw Caden punch a guy so hard the poor bastard spent 30 seconds spitting out tooth after tooth like a tic-tac factory. I spent my freshman year in college as a scout team running back, getting reamed on a daily basis by an NCAA record breaking defense that sent 10 out of 11 starters to the NFL. None of those guys scare me like Caden does.

Alvin decides to test Caden, the 6’6, 245 Lb groom whose coming nuptials we’re here to celebrate. Caden is buzzed and regal sitting in his leather chair, enjoying the antics and tomfoolery of his subjects. However, he’s still quick enough to grab Alvin’s wrists as he reaches for his neck for a choke move. The expression of shock on his face gradually changes to a smile as he begins playfully punching Alvin in the face with his own fists, a move only reserved for pre-k nieces and nephews. Eventually, like a cat who gets tired of playing with his prey, he tosses the 230 lb Alvin to the side to focus on something more interesting. Alvin makes a second attempt to grab Heavy-C, only be tossed aside again, slightly quicker and more violently than the first time.

“OK, it’s over. It’s totally over.” Alvin gasps as he slowly peels himself off the floor.

Then, before he’s completely upright, he lunges at Caden one last time. This time C doesn’t bother catching, absorbing, and throwing him. He just pops him in the chest with an open palm, instantly sending Alvin’s legs into the air as he crashes onto the hardwood with a rumbling thud.

As the organizer of the party, and with my brother covering the damage deposit for the rental house, I become concerned about potential damage and tell Alvin to knock it off.

“It’s Caden! It’s ALL Caden!” he shouts. Apparently unaware that we’ve all been privy to front row seats in his well deserved ass kicking.

Caden, realizing that Alvin is the best entertainment around begins instigating a 2nd attack on the naked sleeping Mike.

“Dude, that guy totally owned you. You just got punked by a naked guy. I can’t believe you’re gonna let him get away with that shit.”

Even sensible me couldn’t help but feel a trickle of joy and anticipation at the prospect of watching Alvin launch a 2nd attack on Mikey.

After a moment spent pondering the situation, Alvin slowly gets off the floor and begins walking up the stairs to the roar of a cheering crowd. I start humming “Eye of the Tiger” and soon everyone else joins in. The sight of a long single file line of grown men walking up the stairs humming the Rocky soundtrack and pumping their fists at 3:00 a.m. must have looked pretty ugly but I couldn’t help but enjoy the humor and sheer ludicrosity (I made that word up) of the situation. B’s got his camcorder rolling. I catch Dave’s eye. He’s laughing and shaking his head like “here we go again”. This can’t be good.

What the fuck are you doing?

Mikey is nowhere to be found. He’s not in his bed or anywhere else upstairs for that matter. Alvin directs his search to our room where Kane’s already sleeping. After a cursory search he decides to start threatening my sleeping brother.

“Are you hiding Mike? You’re next dude!”

I get in the way and try to ease him out of our room. He pushes me. I catch myself on the bed and plow into him, chucking him out of the room. He acts like I’ve just high-fived him, laughs, and continues his search.

Finally someone spots Mikey hiding under the covers in Alan’s top bunk. Alvin starts climbing the bunk ladder. Mikey throws him off. THUNK! Alvin lands most ungracefully with his head hitting the railing on the bottom bunk. He climbs up again and pulls the covers off Mike. Unfortunately (or fortunately for Alvin) Mike’s still naked. This seems to give Alvin the extra motivation he needs to make it to the top bunk. Captain Jack Sparrow fights the defending soldiers and finally boards the the naval vessel "Rainbow Dreams".

They start grappling again and in one of the most infamous, controversial, mysterious, and hilarious moments in the history of wrestling, Alvin decides that the most prudent move would be to twist and turn his back to Mike, giving a new and most literal meaning to the term “Rear Naked Choke”. Randy Couture would be proud. Now Mikey is not a small guy to begin with, but he’s got the size to strength ratio of a chimp with downs syndrome. The guy is freakishly strong. And once he has Alvin locked in the “lusty spoon” it is over.

B’s got his camcorder rolling at the foot of the bunk and he’s doing his best to taunt and enrage the trapped Alvin.

“Way to give up the booty on the first date.”

“For Christ’s sake please control your male lust.”

“Shouldn’t you kiss him first before offering him your cock-holster?”

“Go ahead Mikey. Dig deep. See if you can find some oil.”

Finally, Alvin looks down at the foot of the bed, sees B and his camcorder, and the reality that he’s being video taped spooning with a naked man penetrates his foggy brain. In a last effort to free himself he begins thrashing and bucking like a trapped wolverine. Mike’s arms are a steel trap. Alvin doesn’t stand a chance. He eventually stops struggling. Panting and hissing his words with no breath left, he gasps his infamous line of the night. “This is so gay.”

We’re going to hell.

With no other options left, he decides to turn the tables on Mike and see if he can shame him into gaining his freedom back. He reaches behind him and starts fondling Mike’s bulbous buttocks.

“Is this what you wanted? Why didn’t you say so? If I knew you wanted me to play with your man-pleaser I would have done it a long time ago.”

Now it’s Mike’s turn to go wild. He brings his knees under him, rendering his corn-hole out of Alvin’s reach. Then he starts slamming Alvin’s head into the wall. If it wasn’t for Alvin’s jeans, I’d swear Mikey was hitting that ass. The rickety bunk is whining and cracking under their combined weights and Mike’s power thrusts. I’m supporting the frame with all my strength to keep it from shattering and sending the violent lovers to the floor, more out of concern for Kane’s damage deposit than the clowns safety.

Eventually Alvin concedes defeat and promises to leave Mike alone if he lets him go. However, it's becoming painfully obvious that he isn't going to crash anytime soon. He's a Tasmanian Daredevil bouncing off the walls and the sleep we all desperately need is in jeopardy. With the exception of Kane & Mike everyone else is back downstairs. Kevin is glued to the couch so I lean in ask him where he stashes his meds. We exchange whispers and I'm bounding up the stairs. Black bag, front pocket, prescription bottle, pink & white pills. I come back with a Xanax and a pain killer.

"OK Buddy, open your mouth."

He doesn't ask. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't resist. Down the hatch and into the belly.

A few minutes later I find B standing in the Kitchen with a evil smile on his face.

"What's up?”

"I think he's about to go down."

Alvin is standing in the living room giving a speech that no one is listening to.

"Dude, he's not a darted Rhino. He's not gonna fall down like a chopped tree. He'll probably just get sleepy and go to bed."

B disagrees. He bets Josh on when and how Alvin's going down. I don't have the patience to stand around and find out. The 8 hours of non-stop skiing in deep powder with no lunch break combined with a long night of partying in the village have left me drained. I borrow a Xanax from Kevin and for only the 2nd time in my life I wash it down with some tea and hit the sack.(2)

I fall asleep to the sounds of distant laughter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8:40 a.m…

I wake up to the sounds of distant laughter. K’s gone. What the fuck! Why is anyone up at this hour? My mouth tastes like a whorehouse. I wonder if I’m the only one who needs to punch himself in the nuts just to get out of bed.

As I head down the stairs I recognize B’s giggle. He looks up from his laptop and flashes that bulletproof Afghan smile.

“C’mere dude. Check out these vids from last night.”

I sit on the couch and watch last night’s debauchery replayed before my eyes. The bunk bed scene can ruin careers and destroy lives. I laugh anyway.

I look at Caden, who’s been a mentor of sorts for me in advanced photography.

“You know … I was thinking … if you’re taking a picture of 9 dudes in a hot tub, you should never have to worry about motion blur. Right?”

He pumps his arms in the air like he’s at a rave. We both laugh a hearty chuckle.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

9:50 a.m…

Alvin’s the last one out of bed. He limps out of his room with both hands covering his head while I’m getting ready to give the guys who didn’t ski yesterday a ride to Blackcomb. The thunderous applause that greets him does little to change the expression on his face, no doubt antagonizing the two rams who are currently battling over breeding rights in his skull.

“Good morning champ! What do you want for breakfast? We got hard boiled balls and fried man ass prepared especially for you.”

“What the fuck happened last night? Why do I have all these scratches on my arms? And what’s with all these bumps on my head?”

Mike and I share a knowing look and a silent smile. B shows Alvin his theatrical debut in soft-core gay porn.

“aaaaaaaahhh … Fuck my life.”

As I’m carrying the last of my gear into the xTerra I hear Mikey, negotiator supreme:

“B, Alvin and I will split your bill here if you delete that video.”

Another round of baritone laughter erupts, muffled mid-life as I close the door and fading further away as I walk down the driveway. I climb the bumper to my ski rack and suck in the morning sun rays.

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(1) I’ve jumped a couple cliffs of that magnitude in my adult life but back then, in my little Junior High psyche, you might as well have asked me to jump off Mt. Rainier.

(2) Ironically, I later found out that Alvin actually calmed down (surprise) and became more lucid once the meds hit him. He even made a comment along the lines of "I think I did some inappropriate things." and then went to bed.

My genes are in good hands

2010-03-01T09:05:00.000-08:00

I will live on.

Austin Pilot's Suicide letter

2010-02-23T12:48:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you heard about the Austin Pilot who flew his plane into an IRS building. The media gave it very little coverage, and fox news all but completely ignored it. Anyway, you should check out his suicide letter. It's VERY interesting.

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2010/0218102stack1.html

Monkey In A Tree - Part 2

2010-01-25T11:07:00.000-08:00

Like I said a long time ago. I'm just a monkey in a tree.

The Real Enemy

2010-01-11T09:41:00.000-08:00

Our real enemies are not those living in a distant land whose names or policies we don't understand; The real enemy is a system that wages war when it's profitable, the CEOs who lay us off our jobs when it's profitable, the Insurance Companies who deny us Health care when it's profitable, the Banks who take away our homes when it's profitable. Our enemies are not several hundred thousands away. They are right here in front of us

- Mike Prysner

Sage Advice

2010-01-06T11:47:00.000-08:00

'Maul her,' he said.

'What?' I said.

'Wait until she has to go to the bathroom. After about a minute, go by the entrance. When she comes out, just maul her.'

He went back to eating. He said it like he was explaining where the frozen food section in the grocery store was located. I got the feeling my interaction with Rob was going to be short - i.e,. he didn't seem like he was dying to talk to me about something he considered obvious - so I lasered in and demanded he proffer more information.

'What do you mean?'

'She comes out, grab her by the back of the head and kiss her. Push her up against a wall if there's one. Just maul her.'

I laughed. This was sexual assault. He was fucking with me. Right?

'What if she freaks out?'

'There's a fifty-fifty chance she'll smack you. But anybody would play those odds in Vegas.'

Then he winked and went back to work on his penne.

- From Going To The Maul by Bill Dawes

Where have all the cowboys gone?

2010-01-04T11:40:00.000-08:00

Three-line ad from the London Times, December 29, 1913:

Men wanted for hazardous journey, small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful, honour and recognition in case of success.

5000 volunteers queued up in response to this advertisement, posted by Ernest Shackleton seeking crewmen for his Antarctic expedition.

Dennis

2009-12-18T10:08:00.000-08:00

I love small indie movies like this. This one does a fantastic job of garnering empathy and exposing depth on a character type that is typically cast aside as an ogre, goon, or background muscle.

Dennis is an introverted body builder who finally works up the courage to ask a girl out and go out on date with her despite guilt trips by his mother.

Obamas Speech at the Nobel Prize Ceremony in Oslo

2009-12-18T10:05:00.000-08:00

Read Transcript

The Future Is Here

2009-12-16T12:38:00.001-08:00

I failed ...

2009-12-08T09:32:00.001-08:00

... my English paper. You think the teacher was too hard on me?

(Click the Full Screen link for better view)

It seems this essay was written while the guy was high, hilarious!

Sick Mashup

2009-11-23T09:40:00.001-08:00

Like Kelly said, "It's the ish."

I'm sorry Burger King but I'm not a part of this team.

How it feels ...

2009-11-16T09:29:00.000-08:00

A true story by Andrew Thompson

How do you adequately describe something that takes less five seconds to unfold? One event that changes how you view life and leaves you wondering how and why it happened, let alone, surviving, walking away and even playing sports the next day? Its 4:30 AM and I am awake to drive to Malaysia to play at least 18 holes of golf and possibly 36. I am concerned about playing 36 because later that night there is a "relaxed wear" party following the APEC Summit convention. What is "relaxed wear" when Obama is in the area, there are some US Embassy officials around, and at the very least some minor political figures to be at the party. I can figure this out later, for now, I have to find my golf wear, prepare the water bottles, sun screen, towels, passport, malaysian ringitt, etc. Not too mention, my mind is waundering with the fact I need to get fuel because it is illegal to cross the border with less then 3/4 tank full of gas. Nevermind, off to the shower.

Its 5:07 AM and I am in my car to go pick up my friend, Wee Seong. Wee Seong is actually more of an acquaintence, the brother in law of a friend of work, whom we will play golf with later. II have played golf with Wee Seong before; he's a pretty cool cat so small talk should be no problem. His condo is less than 1/8 mile from mine, so he's an easy get. However, I am supposed to be there at 5:15 - I am early and decide to go top up my fuel. I return at 5:18 and true to form he is waiting for me. We both know the importance of hitting the border before the morning traffic and to be at the course at 6:30 to change, relax and be the first to tee off. It has been raining, but not since I have been up. I can tell because the ground is still wet. Great, no landing the ball before the green and running on, you have to hit at the glad and hope the ball sticks. This is immensly harder.

5:30 and we are well on the way to the border, however, I miss a turn and head south instead of north; its not a terribly bad mistake (so I thought) as I am able to take the very next exit and get back on the freeway heading in the right direction. The delay probably cost us about 4 minutes, nothing major when crossing the border this early. It is still dark, roads still a darker shade of black due to the rains about an hour ago. Its 5:40 and I pass a sign that reads "Speeding Kills" - one of the 1000's of reminders posted in Singapore. I remember thinking, that speeding doesn't kill; people driving where they shouldn't be cause most accidents. Its very typical for mopeds ands slow trucks to dominate the outer lanes, criss-crossing where they shouldn't be; there vehicles are not even commissioned to do the speed limit

Its 5:42, and I have to navigate a left bend - keep in mind we are driving in Singapore, where we drive opposite my friends in the US. The roads are still somewhat dark with some road lamps that aren't nearly adequate enough - particularly for what I am about to NOT see. Up ahead I notice a small lorry, this is a grey delivery truck, commissioned to travel 70 KM/hr. I remember thnking that lorry is driving way too slow to be in this lane (the fast lane) and I need to get around him so I move left. As I am going down hill, I am traveling at about 90-100 KM/Hr. There are NO hazard lights or warning triangles to warn that he has stalled out. I am not sure he is moving or not.

Seconds later, there is an explosion, my car lifts three feet into the air and is redirected toward the lorry; brakes, wheel turns, just relax, there is nothing you can do about it. You are on an amusement ride controlled by someone else. I hope these seat belts work, I hope that swivel bolt holds, is someone in that lorry, no more time to think.

Glass is flying the at me, and I am blasted worse than when I was a 125 lb 14 year old hit by a line backer while fielding a punt; head up, unsuspecting of the imminent blow. The airbag has hit me, burning my forehead and cinging my shirt. Blood is coming down by forehead and into my eye socket; its warm but emitting slowly. Chest feels wierd, but at the same time, I feel nothing, everything is numb and I have to look at my body to make sure everything is where it was this morning. My leg and feet have bruises, lacerations and I am resting in glass. My friend is moaning like I have never heard before; he is obviously in serious pain but alive. I ask him if he is alright, focusing is difficult at best. I need to turn off that ringing and turn on my hazards; I turn the key to the off position; good, the ringing has stopped. The dashboard is a mess; the hazard button is no longer attached, it doesn't work. Mirror hanging, wires I have never seen before are exposed, steering wheel is in my lap, glass everywhere. I can no longer see the lorry; the hood and broken windshield are blocking my view.

Trying to make sense of it all. "What did I hit?" I ask. Wee Seong says "the Lorry dropped a brick" - still moaning. We call our friends, but they are already across the border - "we won't make it, we've been in an accident." "yeah go on ahead without us". I am pretty sure he will live now. Someone is running across the street toward us. I try to open my door, its jammed shut. I tell my friend that we need to get out before we are rear ended; he stays there for what seems like 5 minutes. The kid who ran across the street asks if we are ok, and I ask is anyone in the lorry? "No", he says. Later I find out he was the driver.

We managed to get out through the passenger door and I am walking around on the freeway to see what I hit; I am unaware of more danger - I mean what else could possibly happen to me. I find no bricks, no sign of what I hit. The lorry driver is trying to warn others who are honking, flashing lights, I begin to feel worse. Somoeone tells me to get out of the freeway; for some reason I comply but I have no idea why. I go back to my friend, he is having difficulty breathing. The airbag must have gotten him good; he says my head is swollen and bloody; I feel nothing. I take some pics and wait for the police. Then I notice the smoking gun. Its a rim, beat to crap and severe scratches from being slid on the road. I take another look at the lorry. Its right front side is unusually lower than the left; the Lorry had been driving with a flat tires, the tire came off the rim and then the rim came completely off the truck. I think the lorry driver must have been driving a while like this; at any rate, the lorry was definitely not maintained and dropped its rim. The rim had caused my car to lift into the air and redirect my car. There was nothing I could do, it was the same color has the poorly lit street - I never saw it

About 45 minutes later an ambulance shows up; my friend is transported to hospital and I refuse treatment. I feel fine just a bit tense; they clean my wounds and put some bandages on. I have to wait for the police to show and my insurance investigator and the leasing company. Nearly 4 hours later I leave the scene in another leased car. Later I find out that Wee Seong has 3 fractured ribs and has to stay in the hospital for two days. He is currently on two weeks medical leave. The doctors ask me to come in because I probably have internal injuries. No pee in the blood, I can walk around, just don't do any sit ups, I am ok. Besides I have to play ball tomorrow. We have important games to decide playoff seeding. No time to wait inside a hospital. I went 6-8 at the plate in a losing effort. Oh well, at least I brought it after being in a life threatening accident the day before.

Its 3:30 AM on Monday morning: i instinctively get out of bed the nornal way by lifting by upper body with my abs. Bad idea, I suppose I have some cracked ribs or at least heavy bruising. I can't breathe for a few seconds as I stand, and eventually the pain subsides. I pop another 1000 MG of Ibuprofen and back to bed. The next time I remember to get out of bed backwards; it doesn't hurt to bend over, only to stand up straight or use the abs....

I am on the way to the doctor now; although, I don't say I told you so very often, I hope I am right and nothing serious is wrong. I have a flight this weekend to play a tournament in Bangkok....

- Andrew

My Silly Friends

2009-11-12T14:04:00.000-08:00

Don't get drunk on Halloween. That's all I have to say about that.

Click on photo for more detail.

Party Pants

2009-10-23T15:45:00.000-07:00

P.A!

My shout turns heads. Even in the Golds Gym parking lot where, by virtue of being a part of the gym, people seem required to act cool and aloof. I'm just stoked to see my friend and get a workout in.

We hit the freeweight section and I'm chatty Kathy. The fake tanned fitness contestant is looking at me sideways, probably wondering how this unshaven neanderthal who she has only managed to elicit gurnts or single syllable greetings from for the past 2 years is suddenly speaking in complete sentences. Multiple sentences. About heavy stuff like infinite loops, women, fights, & movies. And who is this poor man's Billy Baldwin responsible for this transformation?

Paul, mutherfukin' Arrington that's who! He wanted to get his legs in shape for ski season so we're meeting at Gold's twice a week. The other 3 days I'm doing Yoga.

So yeah, ArdAtak's back.

Boxes Inside Boxes

2009-10-23T12:35:00.000-07:00

I recently had to write a piece of software that calculated the most efficient way to pack boxes (products) inside bigger boxes (boxes). It seems simple enough but as we zoomed in on the scope I realized that much of the spacial engineering that we, as humans, do so effortlessly is very difficult to program into a computer.

I remember how much pride my dad used to take in packing the trunk just right on those family vacations. Which suitcase goes in first? Do you lay it flat or stand it on it's side? Is it better to stack these 2 on top of each other or side by side? What about those skis that had to go in at an angle? What about that bit of left over space on the left that I can't fit anything into? Now imagine you have dozens of parts and dozens of boxes to choose from and you have to figure out how to pack those parts into into the least number of boxes and do it most efficiently by using the smallest boxes possible. Now write a software that does it. Yeah ... not so easy.

This was further evidenced by the fact that when we decided to just buy an off-the-shelf software for the project, we still couldn't find a practical solution. One guy on my team said if I manage to pull this off we can all go into a new line of business.

I built the back end data structure that stored all the product info (Length, Width, Height, Weight, etc.) and also the available boxes (Length, Width, Height, Weight Capacity, etc.). Next, I built a test harness where you could quickly add a bunch of parts to your cart and hit a button to run the Boxing process. It was my first 100% object oriented app. I've been demo'ing the harness for managment, IT, and warehouse peeps around here and everyone loves it.

One warehouse guy came up and gave me a fist bump after the demo. I guess that's why I do what I do. Once every few years you build something that matters to someone. You get to see them smile and you get some appreciation.

Stone Walls

2009-10-15T12:31:00.001-07:00

My buddy Colin took these photos in Italy.

Click on photo to see full size version.

... more dreams ...

2009-10-15T11:23:00.000-07:00

Our 2 bedroom rental has over 30 people in it.
I only know the 4 I came with.
So it all came to a head.
I called him out and he snapped back.

Admit it Ardi ... you're just as shitty as I am when it comes to letting them go.

I wither.

I never let her go. I'm just not as clingy as you.

Old Man's Tale

2009-09-30T16:17:00.000-07:00

My mother told me to never pick up hitchhikers
but the old man seemed harmless and desperate
besides, can you really call it hitchhiking if it's in a boat?

I fiddled with the radio
no reception in this gulf
can I try? he asked meekly
knock yourself out old man
he found a muffled am station
a sad acoustic guitar spilled out the speakers
he smiled, this is a song from my youth
I pondered how many decades old the song was
what does it remind you of? I asked

I was was warrior once, he said
I remember long travels
being in love
fighting men
the pretty girl with blue eyes
long flat roads of my home land
his hands shook as he adjusted the tuner
the sun crept west

where are you headed?
you can drop me off at Quinault Bay

got any kids?
2, how about you?
same, but they left me a long time ago
somwhere up north with their mother

what's takin' you to Quinalt?
my old partner lives there

we rode in silence
the horizon put me in a trance
blue white blue yellow

I help him off the boat
he feels lighter than he looks
he smiles and shakes my hand

I knew your father
he was a good man
I don't ask how
I don't ask why
thanks
tell him Joseph Griff said hi
I will

As I'm idling back to sea I glance back at the land
the old man's gone
the beach is empty

Hoova Represents

2009-08-18T10:24:00.001-07:00

I love the soundtrack and editing in this montage.

Watch more videos of Halo 3

Halo Movie

2009-08-11T15:44:00.000-07:00

Rumor has it Steven Spielberg is negotiating with Microsoft for the rights to create a Halo movie. It was initially going to be produced by Peter Jackson and Neil Blomkamp. This is what their mini halo movie looked like. I'm curious if Spielberg can do better.

Got Beats?

2009-08-07T16:39:00.000-07:00

Celebrating a decade of funk. Where were you 10 years ago?

Me? I was living on Juanita Beach with Jen (no kids) and taking trips to Ibiza (Chris B & Lee) and Cancun (Chris E & Ian). 9pm, Heaven Scent, and R2D2 were the big anthems.

Matty and I played in our first tourney together.

Showbox as we remember it was in it's infancy.

I done told you once already ... Kenny is the man !!!

2009-08-03T16:56:00.001-07:00

... and before you judge, just remember, it's the eggrolls, not the extacy.

Happy Birthday Troy

2009-07-10T16:36:00.000-07:00

Meeting some friends and family out tonight to celebrate Troy's birthday. Tomorrow we're spreading his ashes. Hopefully if I kick it hard enough tonight I can be nice & numb by then. I miss you bro.

Kenny Powers ...

2009-07-01T13:14:00.000-07:00

... is the man!

Haunted By Black & Gold

2009-06-30T13:15:00.000-07:00

What is is about the Black & Gold color scheme that tugs at me so strongly? To me it represents, fun in the sun, durability, & water resistance. Here are my Black and Gold belongings:

Nissan xTerra:

Jose Quervo Net:

Northface Ski Coat:

Samsung Rugby Phone:

Rio Cali MP3 Player:

Connair Chopper Clippers:

Head Blade Razor:

Happy Fathers Day

2009-06-25T13:10:00.001-07:00

I love you dad.

He leans back from his desk,
rubs the back of his neck,
the stress takes effect.
Grips the bridge of his nose,
squints while he's showin' emotion he normally won't.
At fifty six, he re-evaluates,
possibly regrettin' some decisions that he's made.

Black is turnin' gray,
patches of his age,
reflectin' from the glasses,
a pass of every page.
Passionately day reads, readin' on occasion
Dreamin' of the day when he could do the same thing

He's always wanted to write,
that's all he's wanted in life.
With two daughters, a son, and a remarkable wife.
He's in a bind,
he has to provide.
A family is relyin' on him merely to survive.

His father died at fifty six,
so he's well aware how vital a father figure is.
How big of a responsibility it is,
to be a good husband and care for your kids
Never miss an event, helpin' them with homework.
Discipline to prevent things when they're older.

His only son is only twenty one,
and focus as a poet has only just begun.
Papa isn't dumb, he understands what this means.
His dream is my dream, my dream is his dream.

I close my eyes and I can see
The sacrifices he made for me.
Put it aside for his family
So I'ma keep it alive.

And so he targeted to be the dream guardian.
Guarding it from anything and anyone who's harming it.
But in his heart he knows the hardest thing about it is
givin' up on his dream to be all about his kids.

As he kisses the lips of the Mrs.
for twenty four years, goin' on the twenty fifth.
He thinks to himself, this alone is the wealth
That's greater then what's bought and what's sold on the shelf.

Sometimes a dream is all that we have
we have to continue to dream.
'Cause once it is lost amongst other thoughts
Then what really are we? What are we?

I close my eyes and I can see his dream
The sacrifices he made for me.
Put it aside for his family.
So I'ma keep it alive.

So he sits back at his desk
Crackin' his knuckles and back of his neck
Faxin' a paper displaying his name
On another application explainin' the main
things they should know but the things that they don't
are the things that distinguish him as an adult
and over the phone he can never expose
the roll that he chose, the roll in his home.

And at home he's a leader, a father.
He'll prove it by usin' his son and his daughters.
In their life he'll be playin' the part of
the one who inspires, the one we admire.

His only son is only twenty one
and focus as a poet has only just begun.
Papa isn't dumb, he understands what this means.
His dream is my dream, my dream is his dream.

I close my eyes and I can see
the sacrifices he made for me.
Put it aside for his family.
So I'ma keep it alive.

- Asher Roth

Halo's Render to Film Beta

2009-06-22T16:39:00.000-07:00

Bungie has added a new render to film feature to their existing online fileshare system. It's amazing technology. Here are a few clips from some recent games I was in.

OK Coral
Go into room. Kill everyone. Exit Room. Simple Right?

Extermination
They say it's good strategy to stay close to your teammates. Oh Really?

Acrobatic Lazer
So what's a fella supposed to do when strolling in the desert and a warhog tries to run you over?

Kamikaze
We needed 2 kills to win so I turn Keith into a Kamikaze walking bomb as he charges 2 enemies in a bubble shield.

Jack Move
Sometimes the easiest way to get rid of those pesky warthog drivers is to get in the passenger seat and beat them down.

There's a new Sherriff in town

2009-06-12T09:55:00.001-07:00

So I'm icing my back on the couch and Max comes up and punches me so hard in the stomach that he knocks the wind out of me. I fall on the floor and after I catch my breath I lay back down on the couch but I'm a little more weary of him. The next time he attacks I'm ready and I instinctively flex my abs, pulling something in the process. I wake up the next day and it's still sore.

I knew he'd kick my ass some day but I figured it would be around 14, not 4 !

I'm in trouble

2009-06-12T09:41:00.001-07:00

So I'm driving home from the beach and as I pull into the driveway I see Riley sitting in her little lawn chair and enjoying a solitary snack as she's prone to do sometimes.

She's wearing a summer dress with knee high black boots and has her hair & makeup done from an earlier photo shoot at her dance studio. I could see all the dirty little teenage versions of myself that will be knocking on my door soon and all I had was this simple singular thought as I hit the garage door opener:

I'm going to jail.

Wine Glass Holder for Special Ed Students

2009-06-11T10:59:00.000-07:00

Absentminded lushes rejoice: Never again will you have to wander around a dinner party wondering, "Where did I set down my wineglass?" With the handy Wine Glass Holder Necklace, your glass will always be right where you can find it -- suspended in front of your chest.

Just clip the glass's stem to the plastic holder and you'll have both hands free to raid passing hors d'oeuvres trays with a vengeance. But be wary of sudden, erratic movements, as the holder puts your glass in dangerous proximity to your shirt, making dry-cleaning bills a common hazard. To avoid fashion faux pas, you should probably wear this accessory only with ensembles that include a fast-drying burgundy shirt and black pants. The Wine Glass Holder Necklace consists of a piece of plastic that fits around the stem of a wine glass, and a nylon lanyard that goes around your neck.

Hate You Guys

2009-06-08T14:44:00.000-07:00

So I decided to go on a hike with some friends this Saturday. Riley's softball game got cancelled and I knew the weather would be too crappy for v-ball so I got up early Saturday morning and headed to the usual meeting spot for all EWA trips ... the Factoria QFC.

I was starting to feel good about myself. Having the discipline to stay off the beach and give my back a break was a good idea. Then I get greeted with the following voice mail from Colin.

Hey Ardi it's Colin. I got your voice mail. Hey man, I'm really glad you're coming but I just wanted you to know that this isn't some fun hike like we normally do. This is a training hike for Rainier. It's pretty gnarly. Just wanted you know that. See you at QFC. Peace.

I called Adam.

Hey dude. I this hike pretty tough? Colin actually went out of his way to call me and warm me about it..

He laughs.

It's not any harder that the hike we did from Kelly's Cabin. Just a lot longer..

We all meet up at QFC and head out. B-Sack decides to cary a 35 Lb pack for better training. I guess they'll be haulin' 60 up Rainier. I don't know how B-Sack made it up there since I was struggling with just a camel back and couple of sandwiches in my pack. After the 1st mile we get our second wind and talk about Halo the rest of the way. The conversation makes it easier.

Anyway, Colin blasts his way to the top in no time with his giant stride and top notch cardio. When I finally make it to the top he asks me how I liked the hike.

Hate you guys.

Everybody laughs.

We eat for 30 minutes and head down since it's getting very cold and wet. Going down was even more work. I was using my legs and making sure no jarring or compression made its way to my spine. It seemed easier than going up but every time we stopped my shaking legs assured me otherwise. Adam and I talk about V-Ball on the way down and once again, the conversation makes things easier.

In the end I'm glad I did it and didn't hurt myself. B said if you tell anyone you did mailbox under 5 hours you deserve some props.

Payin' Dues

2009-06-03T13:50:00.000-07:00

I wish injuries were like financial loans and you could pick & choose when you paid them off.

I'd like to put this injury on hold and pay if off in the fall please.

Certainly Sir. Would you be interested in 5 cc's of Cortisone.

I'm not sure. What's the interest rate on that?

High Sir. Very High.

Motivational Poster

2009-06-01T15:38:00.000-07:00

Funny Pic I converted into a poster from Memorial Day in San Diego. Starring Matt, Steve, & Ben. Glad I'm not in it.

Click on Photo for full size view.

Another one bites the dust

2009-06-01T12:55:00.000-07:00

Colin d'Hondt & Gayle Chonzena are getting married.

Yup, the pretty girl in the Salmon dress and the Viking with the 8 pack are tying the knott. Two of my best friends and closest confidants are getting hitched.

I hope they get married somewhere exotic so me and the crew will have another excuse to travel together.

P.S. Sorry fellas. The hottie in the middle is mine.

My Life Be Like Oooh Aaah

2009-06-01T09:40:00.000-07:00

My buddy Chad Lyons, the tallented photographer and proprietor of SnapJacker.com was cruising Alki when he came across Toombstone and I lowering the boom on some poor victims. It was a good day. Biggest tournament ever at Alki. Teams came from Oregon, Washington, and BC. We won a few and lost a few. We played good but good's not good enough aginst the best from the NW if you wanna make the finals.

For the full gallery check out: www.SnapJacker.com

My Best Friend Chief

2009-05-27T11:16:00.001-07:00

By Kelly Kortman

It was May of 2001, I was engaged to a nice wholesome PLU grad named Suzanne and living in my condo in Newcastle with a roomate Joey Rodriguez. We were all very good friends, we were all young (or younger) and broke and we one hot summer Sunday in May came to the conclusion that we needed a dog in our lives. We picked up a newspaper and looked through it for lab puppies. It was never our true intention that day to buy a dog, we just wanted to go and look at some labs and maybe play with them and pretend we were interested and then go back to doing what we did best at the time which was to have barbeques and drink..... a lot. We found an ad for lab/golden retriever mix puppies for $125 dollars. It was in Kirkland so we headed out. We arrived at the door and the guy opened the garage and there they were, 8 adorable 6 week old pups in a mix of black, tan and chocolate.

He wasn't a breeder, it just turned out that his female golden retriever got knocked up by the black lab male a few doors down. His goal was simply to find a good home for the puppies, he wasn't in it to make a profit, just wanted to get back the money he spent on shots, dewclaws and puppy chow that he had been shilling out for 6 weeks. We put all the puppies out in the yard and said, "Well if we are going to get a puppy let's get the one that comes to us first." One of the black puppies came darting right for us all giant paws and happiness and excitement. It was love at first sight for all of us. We could not drive down that driveway without leaving with that little guy. As it turned out he was our destiny and as it turned out I was his. We were all so broke at the time that we literally all pitched in for him (at least as it pertained to the purchase price, the rest going forward would of course fall on me.) $41 dollars a piece, that was the deal. We brought him home and I swear to God he was the smartest most intuitive dog that any of us have ever seen. He was housetrained in a week, could sit and stay and give paw in a month, initially learned how to roll over and then forgot, learned how to speak in about 5 minutes. I said, "you want a treat, go woof" And he literally went, "woof". And from then on he could "speak" on command.

Chief travelled everywhere with me, he was my nonstop companion from day 1. Immediately we had a bond that I'm not really sure I've ever had in my entire life. The weeks turned into months, Joey moved back to where he was from down in Santa Cruz, he bought all my furniture off of me with a promise to send payment for it when he got settled. He never did, fine with me, he had no intention of taking Chief, that was all I cared about. I maybe talked to him one more time, I have no idea where he is now, my guess is up to no good. I was a trainee at Morgan Stanley at the time that I got Chief and money was tight to say the least, they pay you just enough that you don't starve to death. Things were going OK with my girlfriend Suzanne, not great and I think we both knew that we were headed towards a break up. She had a Golden Retriever of her own named Eugene who peed all over himself whenever people would come over. He would roll over on his back and piss himself silly. If you were unlucky you would lean over to pet him and he would pee on you also. So that said when we broke up she had no intention of taking Chief with her either. So as we parted ways Chief was left in my sole custody. There were no battles in that regard. I would find out later that Eugene would die of cancer, it was sad to hear that. They spent thousands themselves trying to save him to no avail. It's amazing the things that we will do for our dogs.

August came and I was at my wits end with Morgan Stanley. I hated working there, it was the end of the summer in 2001, I knew that I needed to move on, I knew that I was going off of salary and I knew that I was going to go from starving to death to literally having to shoplift at costco or something. So I up and quit. It wasn't but two weeks later that September 11th occured. Morgan Stanley had their major operations at the World Trade Center. They were toast in more ways then one, the market was closed, their back office operations were destroyed, thousands of financial advisors flooded the street looking for work and I just so happened to, preemptively, land safely into a cushy little job as a financial advisor working in a bank for WaMu Investments. Higher payout, clients walk right in the door with $400k and a dumbfounded look on their face as if to say, "Please invest this for me." My life was changing. Had I waited but two more weeks Lord knows where I would be today, the world works in mysterious ways.

Meanwhile as the towers burned and collapsed I called Suzanne and we commiserated. We decided to spend the day together with Chief. I know that it's hard to remember now but I think that we all had a feeling that day that it was the end, or the beginning of the end or the beginning of something terrifying. F-15's cruised through the Seattle sky looking for rogue airplanes that needed to be shot down, every television everywhere played the collapse of towers one and two over and over and over again. We walked to a beautiful park in Greenlake, it was the most beautiful day that I may ever have seen. For those of us who lived in Seattle on that day and remember that afternoon we know that it was spectacular from a weather standpoint, not a cloud in the sky. Just jets.....patrolling.

Chief ran around the park in all his puppyish glory. Running up to strangers, kissing them, panting, excited and happy and stopping more than one person on that day from crying, if only for a moment. It was on this day that I learned the true meaning of ignorance being bliss. The grass was green, the trees were just ever so slightly turning color, the water echoing the color of the sky was as blue as blue can be. Chief in his prime soaked up the glory of the day, 10,000 years of dog and man commingling has not led us to a point where they have grasped the concept of human tragedy and yet they can lift us up in an instant like nothing else except perhaps God or a best friend or a parent.

Suzanne and I reconciled on September 11th as many of us did with somebody, anybody. Who wanted to be alone after that or who wanted to hold a grudge after that, thousands died that day unexpectedly and I don't think that anybody wanted to continue to dislike anybody needlessly.

My job took me to Bainbridge Island and Poulsbo. Places that I had driven through on my way to the coast or where I would take dates if I wanted to do something really different. Shortly thereafter I simply moved over there, the commute from Newcastle to Bainbridge was ridiculous. I moved out of my condo, rented it out and found a small cabin for rent on 5 acres for 800 bucks a month. It was about 700 square feet but it had everything that I needed. I was about 80k in debt at the time with my credit cards and it was, for me, the perfect price in light of all the uncertainty that swirled around my new job and the post 9-11 stock market.

Everyday that I came home Chief seemed to grow just a little bit more. He grew into a massive and yet slightly holy terror. He ate every tree and plant in the yard of the cabin I rented sending my landlord into an unstoppable piss-fest. Every time that she came to pick up the rent check she would mention that my security deposit was a mere forgone conclusion. I came home one day to find that he had eaten my mountain bike helmet. There was little this dog would not chew on. Suzanne tried her hardest to make this Bainbridge Island, South Seattle thing work out but slowly and surely it began to fail again. She left my life as a leaf leaves a tree in the fall, hardly noticeable, scattered among the debris. I don't question her love for Chief but she had bigger fish to fry. So did I. She moved on, when she left, she left us both, didn't even bother to ask for her $41 dollars back. I always respected her for that.

It was March of 2002. Things were normalizing and I was finally hitting my stride. I was doing huge numbers at work and making the big bucks for the first time in my life. It was very exciting, I was putting in long hours at work and Chief spent a lot of that time neglected sadly but he was the perfect dog. Never peed in the house, rarely ate anything larger than a couch and just the best thing in the world to come home to at the end of a 12 or 14 hour day. How a mangy wolf evolved into a siken haired black lab with a never ending array of love in his heart I have no idea. There is a saying about how a dog is lucky to know it's God while it is still alive. I think there is something to be said for that. If I loved God the way that Chief loved me I would venture to guess that my life might be just about as untroubled as his, tragedy aside.

It was a Saturday afternoon right around both of our birthday's his first and my 34th. I woke up that day, strode to the kitchen to make coffee and he, for some reason, jumped up and put his paws on my shoulder. I remember saying to myself, "You are the most perfect and beautiful dog that I have ever seen in my life." He was 100 pounds, pure black, hair longer than a lab but shorter than a retreiver, intelligent eyes, big head, perfectly amazing in every way. A supermodel of a dog. I loved him more than life itself. As a birthday treat I decided to take him for a jog. We headed down a usually desolate dirt road that leads to a lake (Lake Gazzam). He was on the left side of the road I was on the right, he stopped to take a leak, I continued forth, I saw a car emerge from a driveway, picking up steam, Chief finished his business and ran across the road, I saw it happen before it tragically did and then it, well, happened. The car hit Chief going about 40 miles per hour. Chief flew about 40 feet, the front bumper flew about twenty, I couldn't bear to look. I knelt to the ground and covered my eyes with my forearm and I just stayed there unable to move. I knew he was dead, I was devastated in the way that a parent is devastated at the loss of a child. I sat there silently picturing in my mind what I would find some 13 yards away and then I felt this wet nose on my neck. I looked up and there was Chief. He had ambled back over to me but something wasn't right. He was dragging his front left leg. It was limp and lifeless. I prayed it was merely broken. I made the guy who hit him give me a drive to my house probably about two miles away. He obliged. I transferred Chief from his car to mine, ran into the house to get my keys and told him to hang out so that I could get his information. I ran back out and he was gone. I could have found the driver again cause I knew what driveway that he had come out of but I never bothered, there wasn't much that could be done, it was just as much my fault as his for not having Chief on a leash and I heard that I could have maybe been just as liable to the damage that had been done to his car.

I raced Chief to the Vet. I panicked at every stoplight, I had no idea what the extent of his injuries were, he could have been bleeding internally for all I knew. I arrived at the clinic, parked poorly and gently speed walked him into the front door. They took him immediately and ran a bunch of tests and x-rays. He was perfectly fine, he just wasn't moving his front leg. It wasn't broken at all, the Dr. said that he would, over time, probably be fine, that perhaps his leg just hurt to the point that he was trying not to move it at all. I had high hopes in that moment, I was still in the denial phase of the mourning process. Just as we were getting ready to head home the Dr. said, hey, wait a minute, I want to try one last thing. I literally already had Chief in the back of the truck when he came out with a simple baby pin in his hand. He began to poke Chief's leg up and down with the pin......nothing. No reaction. He then poked him in his good front leg, he flinched, gave a small yelp. He pricked the other leg, continued lack of reaction. He poked all the way up to the shoulder and finally got a reaction but the leg didn't move. He told me the news I didn't want to hear. The leg was paralyzed, dogs legs go back and forward, they do not go side to side, when he got hit his leg got whipsawed in the wrong direction and snapped his nerve in half. He did give me that 1% chance that it was merely temporarily paralyzed due to trauma and could return. But it was a long shot. I asked about quality of life and he assured me that three legged dogs do great. I didn't want to have a dog that couldn't do the things that a dog needs to do, to well...... be a dog. But he continued to insist that despite the possiblity of a shorter life-span that he would be just fine.

I took Chief home and babied him like crazy. Gave him leg massages to try to restimulate the nerves if they were still lying dormant. Gave him treats and table food and baths and whatever else I thought that I could to make him better. Whereever he went though he continued to drag that leg around. Time marched on and lo and behold in a couple of weeks he was feeling really quite well. He was even running around a bit but of course the leg just flopping around. I bought him a special shoe I found online for sled dogs so that he wouldn't continue to abrade his paw as it dragged along the ground. It kinda worked although the shoe fell off a lot. A month went by and still no feeling and no movement. I knew that sooner or later the sore that was developing on his paw would get worse and worse until it became infected and probably killed him so it was, sadly, time for the leg to go.

I consulted with the Dr. and he agreed to do the surgery even though he had only done one before while in medical school. He said that as part of his recurrent training he would discount the surgery down to about $1500 dollars. Normally it was well over $2000. Of course having a novice, dog leg remover kinda made me nervous, I needed all the cost savings I could get as I was still digging out from quite a bit of debt, etc. I brought him in for the surgery. I prayed on the way there that all would go well. I had to go to work that day but went to go and see him afterwards. I walked through the door, through the waiting area and down a hall to a set of "recovery cages" It was one of the saddest things I had ever seen. My once perfectly glorious dog from just a month earlier was reduced to a kind of Franken-dog. He was shaved over a wide area of his body. He was missing an appendage and had what seemed like a thousand stiches and staples. The way that he was sewed back together gave him a little man boob where all of the areas of stiches came together, he was restrained and attached to tubes. He did not look happy but he recognized me immediately and tried to get up as if to say, "Hello, get me the hell out of here, what have they done to me and where is my frickin' hair and um my frickin 'leg." I wanted to cry. But being the strong, silent type in the most serious of situations I kept a level head. I opened the cage door where he was being kept and scratched his ears. He just lay there and looked at me with those big, brown, sad eyes. After about 10 minutes the Dr. came around and told me how the surgery went, that Chief would be staying with them for a couple of days, that I could come around and see him if I wanted to but that he was being taken good care of. All the girls in the clinic had of course fallen in love with him and his personality and disposition. I knew he was in good hands. I walked out of the clinic feeling just about every emotion that you could imagine, sad, despondent, responsible, callous for not getting a sleeping bag out of the car and staying with him. One day I imagine I might have to leave a child in the hospital overnight, I can't imagine the feeling might be much worse.

Alas, the day finally came to take him home. I packed him into the car with all of his bandages and medications, painkillers, antibiotics, etc. We made it back to the house. I layed him on the couch and he slept for what seemed like an eternity. Dogs in kennels bark all night long for whatever reason, probably didn't give him a lot of time to rest. Watching him lying there on the couch all bandaged up was difficult but at least he was home where he belonged.

It was tough for a while there, I was working a ton and would hire kids from the neighborhood to come and keep an eye on him from time to time. The days slowly turned into weeks, the staples came out, the hair slowly began to grow back in, the man boob slowly disappeared into his fur and he learned how to get along on just three legs just fine. Pretty soon he was back to being my full on running partner and whereever he went he was the talk of the town. If I had a nickel for every time I heard the phrase, "Mommy, that dog only has three legs!".

Weeks turned into months, things were getting better and better for me financially. I finally bought my first house. Chief and I moved into it and continued to live life. Chief by this point was just as fast as any other dog, almost to the point where I would say, "Man that fourth leg served to do nothing but slow him down!" Despite the series of fences that I had built to keep Chief from running away he would still find a loophole from time to time to sneak out and roam around the neighborhood. He slowly over time became part of the scenery and had any number of people giving him treats and letting him hang out at their house. There was one family in particular where he would go because there were always a ton of kids playing there and they had a couple of dogs that somehow Chief must have recognized as his "pack". So whenever he would escape my Byzantine array of fences I would find him there, chilling, playing with the kids or the dogs. It did make my job easier when he ran away to know where he would be. I can't recount how many times I recall picking him up to put him in the car, his belly wet from the quick ocean dip he would take on his way over there and of course I was usually wearing a suit and a tie and was either on my way home from work or on my way to work and of course I would get soaked. I always wondered too if he really couldn't jump into the back of the car or if he just knew I would do it so he stopped trying.

I started to take Chief everywhere with me again. Hiking, camping, to the beach where he of course became a phenomenal three legged swimmer. He remained a very powerful dog with super powerful hind legs that perhaps got that way because of the extra work that they were doing. He loved everybody and everybody loved him. He learned to do this thing where he would lay down on that missing shoulder with his butt in the air and his head looking up at you as if to say, "Pet my belly but I'm not really interested in going all the way onto my back for you, it's too hard to get back up." He served as an inspiration not only to me but to many people that he would come into contact with. He was an inspiration to me because he taught me that you should never be held back by whatever handicap it is that you might have. Whether it's a missing leg or what have you you just have to keep moving forward because what other choice do you have? One girl that I would hire to "babysit" him from time to time actually wrote a poem about him for a school project. Later I would hear from her as she entered her twenties that he had the same effect on her as well. It's so easy to feel sorry for ourselves until we find someone or something that has it worse than us while at the same time having a better attitude, better disposition or a better life.

People would marvel at his speed and endurance and disposition. I would marvel at his ability to overcome and the fact that he never took the time to feel sorry for himself. If there is one human trait that I wish didn't exist it's that. Whenever I was having a bad day or wasn't able to close the big deal or whatever the case might be I came home to the most loving animal on the planet who didn't care what my accomplishments were, so long as I loved him back and gave to him what he gave to me, everpresent friendship and companionship and love. He was there for all of the ups and downs of my life. The newfound love that had just walked into my world or yet another relationship coming to an end. He gave them all a chance, he never judged them and where he had taught me so much about so many other things I guess the one thing that I never did learn from him is patience and forgiveness and a better sense of understanding. And yet he was and has been the one constant in my life throughout this last fourth of my life.

More time went by, we moved into an even bigger house. The stock market roiled upwards, everything was going very well. I was taking flying lessons and doing all the things in life I had always dreamed of doing. At the top of the stock market I bought a cabin out in Leavenworth. By this time also, Chief had a little brother come along, Samson. Samson was a white male Lab and the worst trainwreck of a dog that you could ever imagine but of course that is a story for another day. But it would be Chief and Sam and I heading out to the mountains every weekend to go and work on the cabin. It was that fall of 2007 when I was constantly taking Chief in and out of the Defender that I noticed that he was starting to get very apprehensive about jumping out of the truck. I had always put him into the truck but he was always eager to jump out and do whatever it is that dogs do once they are freed from the confines of the back of a vehicle. I of course was clueless at first as to what was going on because of course not only do I see myself as resilient and indestructable but I thought Chief was as well. I guess that I just assumed that he would pass away silently in his sleep at age 15 after having spent the day chasing rabbits around a golden field in an act of futility. But what I didn't realize is that all those years of overusing his back legs that he was slowly wearing down his hip joints or perhaps dealing with the age old Labrador issue of hip displasia. In fact there was one weekend where he couldn't even really move or get up and would cry every time that he tried. That was a very sad weekend. By Sunday I would take him to the emergency vet clinic and of course the minute I got him there he was moving around again just fine. The least expensive thing you will ever do is pay for the dog; the vet bills.... totally another story. I paid 1/1000 for Chief what I've spent over time in vet costs and medications. It's pretty amazing to think about. And I know, being a pretty healthy guy with good insurance that his medical costs have outweighed mine by a mile.

So now we are giving him tramadol for pain, novox for the reduction of joint swelling and I just ordered from Amazon.com some omega three and glucosamine infused dog treats. We'll give this a shot. The thing I notice lately is that his front leg is getting a little shaky. He spends more and more time simply lying around. He doesn't want to get up in the morning, I have to drag him out from under the bed and down the stairs to put him outside so that he can go do his thing. I take him for a walk and he has to rest after a block. I from time to time have to leave him up the street after a brief walk, go and get the car and drive him back to the house because he still weighs 90 or so pounds and I can't really carry him. What makes this really sad is that his mind is still the same, I see the light that is on inside, he is the same dog but with none of his former capabilities. His internal organs are without flaw, he still has great muscle tone, his teeth are gleamingly white, his eyes are bright and alert, everything about him is flawless. He just doesn't have much left in the way of mobility.

I pray that this new round of joint supplements does the trick. I would love to keep him around for a long time to come. I always thought that he would be the ring bearer at my low key beach wedding which is pretty much what I'm down to having at this point in my life. I hope he makes it. There is a fine line between keeping a dog alive for the dogs sake and keeping a dog around for your sake. I'm trying to find balance with that line. My friends say that once the front leg goes that I should have him fitted for some kind of dog dolly or something like that. That to me seems almost more cruel than the alternative. Dogs are not meant to scoot around on dolly's. Ok so maybe the puppy born without back legs or what have you but not a 10 year old Lab with three legs, two bad hips and an arthritic, shaky front leg.

When the day comes and that day will come it's going to be one of the most difficult days of my life. I had a pretty difficult childhood, I lost my father at a young age, I had a mom who kind of struggled with that and went off to find herself leaving me to find a way in this world pretty much on my own. My sister moved down to Florida, I went off to the Army in Hawaii, I came back, my sister was married and off raising a family of her own, I had high school friends, then I had Army friends, then I had airline friends and then I fell into a group of buddies up here in Seattle. I guess my point is that although having been blessed to always have people in my life they have not always been the same people. Chief, crazy as it may sound, has been one of the most consistent things in my world all these years.

Raising a dog is like raising a child. You feed them when they are hungry, you bath them when they are dirty, you love them with all your heart and they love you back. You scold them when they are bad, you forgive them and move on. They love you back with all their heart, they are excited to see you every single day as you return home. They follow you around from room to room as you go about your day, they look at you quizically as you do the crazy things that you, as a human, do. Despite their fear of vacuum cleaners, dogs and kids, I would assume, have a lot in common. They are kids that you raise from babies who pass away at the age of 10 or 15 if you are lucky. It makes you wonder why they have such a short life span. Is it to teach us about mortality and loss? I don't know. If God ordained the Universe and created all the laws that make this world work there has to be a reason for this phenomenon.

"I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?"

-Sir Walter Scott

I will never forget Chief, I will always love him and I will forever be changed for having had him in my life. I feel that he was my destiny and that all of the things we went through - we went through for a reason. I'm a perfectionist and he taught me how to deal with imperfection. He taught me to find beauty in the simple things. He gave me a reason to come home at night when I would have turned my 12 hour day into a 16 hour day otherwise when I was coming up in my new career. He taught me about the true meaning of unconditional love. He led me to many places that I would have never gone had I never bought him. The guilt of ownership took me on many a hike that I wouldn't have taken otherwise. By simply being there he created a situation that no matter how much I tried to isolate myself at times from the world, I was never truly alone. As I type this right now he is laying at my feet, seemingly content with the world. I wonder what he thinks about. Does he know the end is coming? Does he feel sad about it? Is there something instinctually inside of him that tells him that his hips will most likely continue to worsen and not get better. Is he my guardian angel who had come to earth to keep a closer eye on me, is his job almost done for some reason? I don't know. I do have this feeling though that I will hang on till the bitter end and I believe that he will as well. I just don't want to hang on too long and I don't want him to either. For as long as I live though he will never be forgotten and I do not think that he will ever forget me either and if there is a heaven for dogs I know that he will be up there keeping an eye out for me. If there is a singular heaven for man and dogs alike I know that whomever is waiting for me at the end of my life that he will be amongst them and the first to run towards me, fur flying, tongue wagging, eyes filled with happiness and joy as he leaps into my arms knowing that we will be able to spend eternity fetching sticks from a crystal blue river and of course this time he will be swimming out to get them all four legs moving perfectly in time against the water in an effortless motion.

"My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am."

-Author Unknown

Editors Note:
My greatest memories of Chief are:

1) When he was a tiny puppy and I took him for an early morning swim in Chelan. Once we were about 40 yards offshore he panicked and tried to use me as a life preserver, scratching the fuck out of my back and arms in the process. Luckily Jen was along on that trip. Othewise, explaining all that damage would have been awkward to say the least.

2) When recently and not in the greatest health, he followed the boys, Kelly, and I along with Sampson up a steep mountain behind Kelly's cabin and then, more impressively, somehow slid and banged his way down. I learned a lot about love and perseverance on that climb.

3) When he followed me into a raging Skykomish River and I barely managed to save him & myself with one hand on a slippery rock and the other around his collar.

This part sounds like someone I know:
What makes this really sad is that his mind is still the same, I see the light that is on inside, he is the same dog but with none of his former capabilities. His internal organs are without flaw, he still has great muscle tone, his teeth are gleamingly white, his eyes are bright and alert, everything about him is flawless. He just doesn't have much left in the way of mobility.

Tweet Your Twitter

2009-05-27T11:14:00.001-07:00

Ha ha! Something eerily familiar here.

Skill

2009-05-19T12:00:00.000-07:00

Skill - noun
1. Adeptness
2. Ability to recreate a scenario consistently

Not what you expected

2009-05-19T10:05:00.001-07:00

Might seem like another machinema but there's a nice surprise at the end. Plus it's for a good cause.

Happy Mothers Day

2009-05-12T13:40:00.001-07:00

Brave Heart

2009-05-08T10:16:00.000-07:00

ONE

MORE

WEEK

The Alpha Male's Burden

2009-04-30T16:04:00.000-07:00

Quotes from one of my new favorite authors, PhilaLawer:

...........................................................................................................

Twenty six is a rotten year. You're not an adult by any stretch, but you're way past college jackass. None of the things you really want to say, think or do are acceptable. Every day's another exercise in suffocating what you'd been for the last decade. For some it works; for others it's futile - the live wire of adrenaline you lived on since Junior High can't be unplugged, boxed and stuffed on a shelf. The current in your head builds, relentless, voracious, demanding to be fed. It pitches tantrums while you sit silent, staring at off-white walls and monitors, the low hum of florescent bulbs hissing through your ears. Adjusting's futile; it's too clinical, antiseptic, mechanized - the photographic negative of everything your body's craving. The mind rolls to where you ought to be... On a speedboat rolling through a jungle river, taking notes for a National Geographic article on Nigerian warlords... Driving cross-country in a beaten up Volvo, warm air in your face, stealing a drag from the cigarette of an impossibly built brunette in the passenger seat... Sipping a Heineken and eating crackers, watching the buildings disappear under the wing of a plane to Anywhere But Here. That Ben Harper tune's on repeat in your head... "I believe there's a better way..." Flight, movement, some sort of juice - blessed stimulation of any kind. Is that too much to ask?

Millions of people everywhere sit in cubicles all day, demons clawing up and sliding down and down the half-pipe walls of their skulls, tortured adrenaline junkies trapped by the same thing that had Harris, Martin and me by the balls - short term cash flow. For most of us, the money comes when you're least able to use it the way it ought to be... Twenty years of cash when the old lady's tits are at her knees and you're too tired to fuck anyway. Florida. Golf. A car with heated seats. Then the Big Sleep. The only cure for the pain of twenty six is pussy. A woman's as necessary as water. You don't have to love her. You don't even have to like her. But you need her there, under you, above you, in front of you, grounding the live wire of adrenaline and testosterone. When you're young, losing your mind in an office and not getting any action, you're an unpinned grenade. There's really no reason to live and you don't give a shit about anything. People say college is the chapter in your life where you build the stories you cringe recalling 20 years later. Twenty six and involuntarily celibate kills college... and nearly kills you.

The male doesn't age as we think. In fact, he doesn't age at all. He assimilates, placates and slows, accepts the reality around him and plays what he's told to play. But just a little bit deeper, a scratch below the mask, he's eighteen-to-thirty forever, and every now and again, in the right combination of circumstances, with the right mix of triggers or enticements, that selfish, single minded monkey will break out and escape the cage. And flowing from his greed, gluttony or vice, or a combination of the three at once, a trail of damage will follow. But he'll never be directly blamed. It'll all be collateral damage, the sort of thing that happens when you lock the animal down too tightly, rob him of natural releases.

- PhilaLawer

American Heroes

2009-04-27T17:03:00.000-07:00

I saw a back doctor today. I'm taking 3 weeks off from the beach to rehab my back and I was looking for someone to give me a cortisone injection to expedite the healing process. In the waiting room I find myself talking to a fella about my age. He was clearly in extreme agony. Walking and talking was very hard for him.

Turns out he was a commercial diver. His coworker got caught under a mudslide at 200 feet below surface. With a 3000 psi steel tube jet on one shoulder and his partners hand in the other he struggled for 40 minutes under water. Eventually he saved him. However, his back was screwed. He had twisted vertebrae and muscle tear / separation along his back.

The surprise was that this had happened in the Gulf of Mexico about 6 weeks ago and his first Dr. visit was last Friday here in Washington. He had spent the last 6 weeks in complete agony getting bounced around and dicked every which way by the insurance companies.

It's really sad. In the movies when the hero does something like this we just assume that once the ordeal is over he will get the best care possible from the rest of humanity. It's just a given. He risked life and limb to save another human. Can't you hear the emotional background music? ... But not here in good old US of A.

I spent more time today discussing insurance information and payment details than talking about my back. I easily filled out over 20 forms. Why? Just to have a few milliliters of liquid injected into my back. The whole thing could have took 20 minutes. But it took a hour on the phone and 3 in the Dr. office to make it happen.

Dave, my fellow patient. You're a good man. I hope you get the care you deserve and recover soon.

P.S. The Dr. I saw today DID turn out to be excellent and far more thorough and concerned than just about any I have seen so far.

P.P.S. One bright side note to all this injury drama ... They attached a heart monitor to my hand for the injection. They basically treated it like surgery. Anyway, the machine kept freaking out and sounding this annoying alarm. The nurse said it's because my heart rate is so low the machine thinks I'm dying. I'd even had a cup of coffee at work before I went in. She said that most patients are between 70 and 90. A few drop below 60 and NEVER below 50. I craned my neck around and checked out the machine. 45 bpm. I guess all that cardio at the gym in lieu of the beach is paying off. I'll be slow when I get back and I probably won't be able to jump very high. But it's good to know I can run slowly and not jump high all day long thanks to my conditioning.

Troy Duncan

2009-04-07T13:20:00.000-07:00

"Anyone feel like rolling with my boy Troy? He's driving solo."

Garrett was leaning his spiky blond head in through Marty's passenger window. I could smell the gum on his breath and cologne on his collar.

Like most 20 somethings in the early 90's we were all a little baked and self-conscious; easily comforted by being around those we knew were as screwed up and neurotic as ourselves. The thought of leaving the friendly confines of Marty's Mustang and jumping in a car with a stranger put an abrupt end to our laughter, all of us considering if we really felt like taking a chance on a new character in our current state.

"Sure, I'll go." I said.

"I may not have your movie-star good looks but damnit I'm confident and charismatic." was probably what I was thinking sub-consciously. I figured I could leave Marty and the boys in his ride and meet this new "Troy" character. After all, he can't be too bad if he's meeting up with us to go to a rave.

I hop in the convertible VW and instantly feel the warm glow of one the oldest souls I've ever come across. Troy's inner peace was palpable and I knew we were already friends before I even had a chance to shake his hand or return his smile.

"We're stopping off at DJ's." Garrett said as he smiled and rubbed Troy's brillo head. "Keep an eye on this guy. Make sure he doesn't get lost."

"OK Snoop" I tease him back for needlessly carrying a gun to a rave.

We start chatting on the drive down, mostly covering topics only boys in their early 20's talk about as well as subjects of a more spiritual nature. Like my father, I can read people in seconds. I knew right away that we were cut from the same cloth. We'd be friends forever.

"Have you ever been truly euphoric?"

"I think so."

"I'm truly euphoric right now."

The evening was epic as all raves were in those days as we danced, explored people, and travelled the cosmos. Man could he dance.

This was my introduction to Troy Duncan. One of the most unique and coolest cats I've ever had the pleasure to call my friend. To say that Troy was "Cool" would be a tragically generic understatement. He had deep, true blue, jazz musician confidence as if he was surfing the wave of life - effortlessly carving turns and limping along to the beat of his own built-in I-Pod.

No matter where he was living, I always felt welcome to crash at his pad. I once even brought along 8 other rowdy boys when he and Luke were living in Chelan and they graciously housed us all with no complaints. Another time Matt and I brought the Jens over and crashed at the Duncan mobile home with Kelly and Dave Bartosh.

I remember sitting at Chelan park, basking in the warm summer sun, watching Troy and Luke run their jetski business, and feeling envious of the joy-filled peaceful life he was living.

I remember sitting in the King County Prison visitors room and watching Troy's mother cry as she pressed her palm against the glass, against his palm on the other side, feeling helpless as I held the food and books the guards would not let me give him.

I remember opening night at his club, SuperHighway, fully decorated with his own paintings and artwork. The proud smile on his face. The paintings looked different in a public venue. No longer the pencil sketches I used to flip through in his loft; They were real.

I remember skiing at Chrystal Mountain, catching flicks at the Egyptian, dancing at the Naft, driving to Chelan, Marty's bachelor party, endless nights lost in infinity. It is in these adventures and roller-coaster rides, as you peel away the husks of life, that a man's true character is revealed. You get to size him up and find out if he's truly the warrior he projects. You find out if he's someone you'd want in the foxhole with you. In the jungle. Across the ring.

Know this: He was made of granite.

He had his dark days. Sometimes we'd spend an entire day together and he'd only say a few words. On days like this I could really see the tortured artist living in his soul. Living, struggling, creating, destroying. I didn't care. Comfortable silence is something only true friends can enjoy.

I ran into him at Mo's a few months before Riley was born. I unloaded about how hard it's been living with a pregnant woman. A recent father himself, he expertly broke down how women's minds work when they're pregnant and offered advice on how to deal with them. Man was he good with the ladies.

"A pregnant woman is liquid because she flows. She carves arcs and curves in the vessel she forms. She is moved by the moon."

Later on, after Max was born, we compared notes on fatherhood over a beer at Mr. Lucky's.

"I’m not going to give you any advice."

"What? I just had my 2nd kid and things are getting crazy around the house. I look to you for some Troyism, and you tell me you got nothin'?"

"You are going to get advice from so many people, so take the advice they give you, nod politely, thank them, think about it, and then make your own decision."

The frequency of my interactions with friends has gone down as fatherhood has claimed larger portions of my time and my friendship with Troy was just another casualty as I went from seeing him every week, to every month, to maybe once every few months, and perhaps only a couple of times a year since 2006.

Troy had a good life. He had his ups and downs like the rest of us. At times he had this Andy Warholesque syndrome which made him brilliant and erratic at the same time. Great art comes from great suffering. Through it all, he managed to touch many lives and make the world a happier place floating on his art and his music.

I remember his words ... "It is what it is" ... "Let it go" ... "Pay attention" ... "be true" ... "Be True" ... "BE TRUE"

...

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game.
Tired of trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow" I say "I will call on Troy
and let him know that he's still my boy".
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.

Around the corner, yet miles away,
a call from Luke, "Troy died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

- C Towne

Randomize

2009-04-03T13:47:00.000-07:00

Maxo Radio and Maxo Life Project now have the ability to play music randomly instead of in the same order. It took me a while to dig into it but a good night sleep and strong cup of coffee finally prevailed.

Viva La Musica !!!

Stickin' It To The Man

2009-04-02T16:26:00.000-07:00

I had back to back traffic hearings yesterday and today. Both tickets were issued at the same exact stop sign in my sleepy neighborhood. Both cases were dismissed but for different reasons. I actually had to duke it out with a real prosecutor (first time in over 30 hearings) in the 2nd one. My friends think I should get legal insurance for $17 a month and not worry about traffic tickets. Maybe some day I will but right now beating these chicken-shit bastards at their own game feels better than sex.

I had the first case dismissed due to untimely discovery (IRLJ 3.1). For the 2nd one the discovery motion was denied due to slightly varying circumstances and I didn't even bother with plan B because it wouldn't have worked with a real prosecutor present. So I fell back on plan C and actually showed them photos of the intersection, the curved cross-street, the big bush in the corner, and the stop sign and stop line that are yards apart. All of which combined into a BS story that even Max would not have believed but somehow it worked and I got the case dropped.

Although I probably fight and beat anywhere from 2 or 3 tickets a year for the past 15 years I have not actually had to testify and convince the judge I was innocent since college. I usually just make a motion for dismissal and get the case dropped due to some technicality which is only slightly lamer than the technicality that landed me in court in the first place.

It all feels like a cowardly game of chess for idiots. I get a ticket for something ridiculous like rolling through a stop sign at 5 miles per hour and then go to court and get the case dropped because some piece of paper was filed or sent out 2 days late. In the meantime, the cops time, my time, and the tax payers money goes down the poop chute.

Anyhick, the intense level of police activity around this tired, low-traffic intersection is only due to the fact the sheriff lives down the street. I hate cops. A good friend of mine, real sweet kid from college, became a cop and had a nervous breakdown after 6 months. He was just too nice. I don't know how I'd ever reconcile getting close to one in real life. I usually ignore or minimize the conversation with the 1/2 dozen cops in my gym. The news is rampant with stories of police abuse on a daily basis and that's only the 0.01% of the incidents that are lucky enough to get captured on camera and reported by the media.

Anyway, I'm rambling. In summary, cops suck, traffic law is for morons, and I rock. ArdAtak OUT !

The Gay Tea Maker

2009-03-31T15:50:00.000-07:00

Deezel pulls off some mind shattering moves in order to work off a severe case of beaver fever in Thailand.

Goodbye Cruel World

2009-03-31T14:53:00.000-07:00

Just HAD TO cool off after a long day of miniature golf in EWA (Chelan). It's really hard to even see me in relation the bridge and get a grasp of how high it is. I'm just a spec.

Matty Gets Shizzy With It

2009-03-29T18:02:00.000-07:00

Clip from Winter of 2006 (ish). We had pretty much stopped jumping for a few years at this point. Old age, bad knees, and all. However, since we were skiing on Easter Matty decided pull some old moves out for old times sake.

Halo - As I Teabag you slow

2009-03-20T18:35:00.000-07:00

Not an impressive performance. From the early Halo3 days quite a while back. The GameVee watermark in the bottom right should tell you how old this clip is. I like this clip cuz it's one of the last times me and the fellas played all together at the same time before everyone scattered their own way.

In retrospect I was very slow on weapon switches, lacked awareness, and had no practical concept of the BR's effective range. I did, however, have more patience and caution than I do now. It was still fun.

The kickass song is by Palette Swap Ninja. I didn't ask their permission to use this song but they're cool guys and I'm fairly certain they're ok with it.

Quickie

2009-03-17T09:25:00.000-07:00

I was a funny little man ...
needed the fans help every morning just to get out of bed.
Luckily, I had the best fans in the league.

For the rest of the day, I needed God's help.
Luckily, I had the best God In the league too.
And boy did he come to play.
That crazy god, always comes to play

- Eric Schaeffer

To Sleep , Perchance to Dream

2009-03-11T16:58:00.000-07:00

A Story By Kelly Kortman

I awake from day two of my cold and fever in a soaken sweat. I haven’t really eaten in a couple days, maybe a few grapes, a bite of watermelon, water, juice. I walk to the mirror, the abdominal muscles that I was working hard on the last several months but which never showed because I never dieted in conjunction are in their full glory, I literally must have lost 10 pounds as I sweated through two nights of agony and fever, I guess that‘s one way to do it. I’m now ripped like enlightenment era paintings of Jesus on the cross. My sunburn has faded into a golden glowy tan. My hair, falling out one follicle at a time since the middle of my Senior year of high school even seems fuller. I shower and wash away any remaining remnants of my illness. It’s noon, my friends have abandoned me it seems. I can’t blame them, the night before I was the picture of death. I seriously contemplated going to the hospital and getting an IV. Having no idea what that might cost and not knowing whether they have socialized medicine or whether I would end up spending more on that than say a years worth of car payments I decided to tough it out here at home.

I put on my swim trunks and walk down to the beach. Lay my towel down, load up on sunscreen cause I’m not going through the hell of sunburn again. I hear two guys and two girls sitting nearby speaking English. I almost have this feeling of Eureka! Or Thank you Jesus. It’s the first English I’ve heard in days outside of my circle of friends that I’m out here with. We exchange the usual pleasantries, where you from, how did you decide on this place, etc. etc. Two guys from Dallas, James who runs his fathers auto dealership and Tim who is a marketing director for Myspace, Sarah and Michelle are both from Sydney Austrailia have just graduated from college and are traveling for a year on a $5000 unlimited flying pass. Time passes on, we have a few beers, we throw the football around, I tell them how my friends have taken off and I don’t know when I might see them again. I tell them my deathbed story. The sun makes it’s ascent and descent in the sky, it’s four o’clock. They invite me out with them. There is a party tonight and there is a name for it in Portuguese that I quickly forget but loosely translated it means “Anything goes party.” It’s yet another in an endless stream of pre Carnival excuses to drink and have fun. For those who don’t know and I’m sure that most of you do Carnival the same as Mardi Gras perhaps without the beads or maybe there are beads I‘m not sure I‘ve never been. As the Catholics head into their period of lent and to the best of my remembrance from Catholic High School, it’s a one to two month period prior to the day of Jesus death. During this time you give up things, meat, candy, sex, in Italy probably your mistress. Things like that. Carnival is the time leading into that and everybody seemingly tries to commit as many sins as possible so that they can get them out of their system. I go home and shower, I put on my lucky shirt and shorts. We all get ready and we all have days where we come out looking like a 3 a 5 a 9 as it pertains to the best that we can look to ourselves. I’m rocking a solid 9.5, again for me. My 10 is Brad Pitts 3, let’s not kid ourselves. But there is something to be said for feeling good about ourselves that exudes through you and is picked up by the intuition of others. It goes the other way too as we all know. Not feeling good about yourself, that will exude too. Maybe this is God’s gift to me after giving me the plague for two days on my frickin’ vacation.

I meet up with my new amigos for drinks at a pre funk joint. We shoot a game of pool. We are all in a good mood. We grab a cab to this party that is in an outdoor venue. Oh by the way, still cannot find my friends, they are probably hiking through several mountains on their way to an undisclosed dinosaur dig. Did I mention their adventurousness? We see the lights and hear the music in the distance. Flashes of red and blue and yellow and green, strobes lights and fireworks. It’s amazing. We pay the cabbie and exit the vehicle, pay our cover and walk through the door to a throng of people, some in costume, some shirtless, girls included. Many people seem to be on ecstasy. There is a 5 girl to one guy ratio, I’ve never seen anything like this, girls sipping drinks on the sidelines waiting for somebody, anybody to come up and ask them to dance. My four friends have coupled up and have determined that they are going to make an attempt at faithfulness towards each other, I assume that they have not consummated their relationship yet, thusly. I am but one man in a swirling sea of music, woman, beauty and partial nakedness. I get that, “I have finally arrived and my vacation is beginning”, kind of feeling and yet I have a tiny feeling of remorse that my best friends are not here to share this with me. I buy a drink. I’m told to ensure that I open all my own drinks down here because some of the nare do wells down here for some reason like to slip roofies in your drinks and find you later and either take all your money or worse. I buy a beer and say, “Don’t worry I can open it myself.” The bartender looks at me funny but I’m not concerned. I tip him well even though tipping isn’t a thing down here.

I see my friends dancing in one little area, the girls to my surprise have already removed their tops. “When in Rome they say.” I’m smiling, surprised, laughing on the inside, mildly turned on, who wouldn’t be. I dance near them but don’t want to give the impression that I’m trying to weasel my way into their little semi circle of impending vacation one night stand, or romance or whatever it turns out to be for them. I have my back to them. I take my shirt off as well, why not right? I have Jesus abs again. I’m pulling out my best moves from the eighties, the snap and slide, the hands above the head but not too far above the head if you know what I mean, the shoulder shrug, I walk like an Egyptian which leads to a millisecond of vogue-ing with immediate regrets for having just pulled that one out of the dance move vault and then just sort of fall into the old “Footloose” side to side fingersnap. To my immediate left a group of demi-topless early twentysomethings make their appearance. Two topless, two covered in body paints, all beautiful and in perfect shape because that’s just how it is down here. [(aside) This island was founded by Germans who mixed with the Portuguese, Spanish and locals. For many years the Germans outnumbered everybody in the same way that the English came to outnumber the American Indians in Jamestown and other places in newly discovered America due to having wiped out their populations with smallpox. Over time races mixed on this island. Genetically speaking what the Germans brought to the table was blonde hair, blue or green eyes and um how do I say this delicately, topheavyness, the Portuguese and locals brought, genetically, dark skin, long skinny legs, nice posteriors. You put it all together and what you have is Giselle Bundchen. Anybody ever notice that Giselle has a German last name. Yep, she’s from around here and her cousins- tall and medium are everywhere.] I make eye contact with one of the girls in the group. I look into her big, blue eyes, She looks into my eyes we have a connection. She seems as though she is on some mind altering substance but I can’t tell what. She might just have been drinking a lot but I doubt it. I say “se voce falla englais” through the din of the music, which means “do you speak English in Portuguese“. She waves her hand as to say so/so. Now I’m making sporadic eye contact with all of her friends. They are looking at me like a Turkey as it comes out of the oven on Thanksgiving day by those who have been fasting since Tuesday so that they can binge eat come this moment. I electric slide over to them. I wink at my friends who are now intermittently making out and playing slap and tickle more than they are dancing. They wink back as if to say, “It’s on like Donkey Kong my brother.” The girls seem as genuinely excited for me as the guys. It’s a brave new world that we all exist in. Before I know it I move from outside the circle of dancing mini Giselles to being on the inside. They surround me and swarm me like bees in a hive. I wonder if I am part of a ritual where at the end of it all I will be put in a pot with some carrots and eaten or taken to the top of a mountain and sacrificed to the angry God’s who created this whole lent thing in the first place. Of course this is too good to be true. I’m 41 for the love of all things holy. These girls are in their early twenties, flawless and fighting for my eye contact and attention. I begin to get “bajoes” which is Portuguese for kisses. When I turn to one another slaps me on the ass, seemingly checking for firmness, when I turn to another I get rewarded with a kiss from her and a flirtatious bite on the back of my arm or neck from another. This goes on for two songs. I see other guys dealing with this same issue from other mini brazilian model wanna be/ could bes. Of course this is anything but an issue. It’s every mans fantasy and I’m seemingly living it in the moment. In life you hear many times that you should live in the moment and few of us rarely do but I’m truly living in this moment. I’m not thinking about work, the stock market, my advancing years, my 401k or my mortgage payments. The thump, thump of the techno music comes to a 1 second halt and a slow song comes on. Very strange for this atmosphere, it’s Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature.” I remember how big that MJ still is around the world despite his freakishness and retirement from music, oh, some 25 years ago in reality. I now suddenly have a choice to make because I cannot slow dance with four girls at the same time. To be fair I pick the one that I first made eye contact with. I do not make eye contact with the others because I know that there may be bruised feelings because at the end of the day nobody likes to be rejected especially by a 41 year old with thinning hair and a tinge of the crows feet. I pull her close to me, music is wafting through my ears, Michaels smooth vocals surround us……“and they say why, why, they tell me that it’s human nature, why, why does it do me that way.” We kiss, I now know fully what they have meant all those years by the saying, “the international language of love”. I can feel the top half of her body touching mine, the softness and the commingled sweat of our earlier dancing efforts We kiss for the entire song. The song ends, I look in her eyes, the full moon is, at this moment, being reflected back towards me from them. It’s 75 degrees out, a wind whips in off the ocean, for a split second you can hear the crashing of surf. Another thumping beat replaces the beauty of the previous slow song, a song that I very well may never now forget. There is no need to go back to dancing to the techno music. There is only one thing for us to do and that is to go for a walk down the beach together as anything else would be seemingly redundant. After a four minute stroll we find a closed down beach bar that has big chaise chairs locked up to their nearest post, the post which holds up the tiki style roof. For whatever reason they have left the cushions on. We fall into the couch like chair still able to hear the music in the background. “dinz, dinz, dinz, dinz” with the coordinating stream of lights glowing off in the distance. We talk a little for the first time, where are you from, what do you do, how is it that you are single. Her English is fair and my Portuguese is awful. I often have wondered why you will ask someone here a question and they will just start going off in Portuguese to my astonishment. Then I remember that I of course do the same thing. I get asked question in Portuguese and start going off in English because, well, that’s my only choice. We slowly realize that beyond the basics we have everything to say and nothing at all to say. So we stop wasting our time with small talk and begin kissing again. Girls down here, and I’ve heard this from many others, love to kiss and maybe fool around a little bit and have no problem with nudity, especially toplessness but beyond that they are pretty good girls. When things begin to get heated she pulls away, smiles, looks at me and with the wag of a finger says, “No, no, no mister.” She takes my hands in hers and starts kissing me again, I safely put my hands on her back, I figure I can’t get in trouble for this. We kiss for what seems to be hours. I feel like I’m at a high school party that I remember going to in my Junior year in Schaumburg Illinois where I kissed a girl all night in some parents who were away on vacation’s bedroom who was so turned on by this that she put scratch marks all over my back to the point that it looked like I had just made love to a Puma. I’m getting the same vibe here but thankfully without the clawing away of the shoulder blades and spinal cord region. I look up into the nighttime sky and see that the moon is in a different spot altogether from where it was when we first layed down. I look at my watch, it’s 3 am. I’m exhausted, thirsty, my mouth, lips and jaw ache from this marathon make out session. Don’t get me wrong I have no regrets and this girl may seemingly be the sweetest girl on the planet but having just come off a cold I feel that I should probably zip back to the crib and get some shuteye. I get up from the couch and extend my hand. She gives me the somewhat frowny, “I’m not happy to see this end” kind of look, but in that cute way that cute girls do it when they want to be…..cute. She reaches in her purse and finds her tube top like covering. She slides it over her head. This is the first time I’ve seen her with all of her clothes on, usually it’s the other way around, ya know? We make our way back down the beach, holding hands like two young lovers who’ve been at this forever. We speak minimally. I ask her for her phone number. She gives it to me in her best English. I have no pen or paper so I try to think of ways to remember it. I know that somehow by birthday is involved with the first part and two of my favorite football players jersey numbers are involved in the last part. I of course cannot remember her name for the life of me, I want to say it’s Giselle but I know it’s not. I last heard it hours ago and I was so taken by her raw beauty that it went in one ear and out the other, my brain apparently was processing too many other caveman style thoughts at the time. I ask her how she spells her name so that I can commit that to memory as well. It’s Patricia, but her friends call her what sounds like Patchi. The music gets louder, the lights get brighter the population of beach lovers gets denser and we know that we are getting close. She says, “Although my friends are going to kill me my brother is the one that is really going to be pissed.” But again half in English and half in her language but I get it. I say, “brother.” She say’s, “Yes, we came with him, he drove.”

We make our way through the crowd of yet reveling dancers. We go back to the spot where we first met. Her friends are gone, my friends are gone. We begin a search for them, we hold each others hands not necessarily to be romantic but to not lose each other because the crowd has actually become larger since we last left. We make our rounds to all the various bars that have been set up around the outside dance floor. The DJ is working up a furious blend of house and techno. We finally come across her friends sitting at a table, they now all have their tops on as well. Apparently toplessness is mainly for the dance floor whereas sitting at a table drinking a mojito is more of a “top on” kind of thing. They look at her with darting eyes. They are purely speaking in Portuguese for my non Portuguese speaking pleasure. I don’t understand a thing but I understand everything. “Where have you been, what have you been up to, God knows, I think I hear one ask are you still a virgin?” I don’t have a clue but this is what I’m guessing. She explains herself to them to the point that they aren’t satisfied with her answers but the thought of throwing her into the ocean for making them worry so much fades from their demeanor. She turns to me and says that her brother has been frantically looking for her since two and is pissed. She goes on to say that I might wish to make my exit now since he is a big fella who has been practicing the beautiful art of Brazilian judo called kapamaria (or whatever it’s called) since he was a young child and is not afraid to use it. I haven’t been in a fight in a long time but decide that it would be embarrassing to get my ass kicked by some dude that looks like he’s doing have yoga and half tai chi. I agree with her on many fronts that it’s time for me to go, her friends aren’t happy, I’m tired and I don’t need a fat lip for the rest of my trip considering that I just overcame a blocked ear, a sunburn and the 48 hour flu. I kiss her gently goodbye and just as I turn I hear in the distance in a booming bass voice, “Patchi, no!” He weaves his way frenetically towards us and I say, “I’ll call you, buh bye!” I begin my very own weave through the crowd. He commences chase. I run through the bronzed, green eyed beauties breaking off moves like Reggie Bush running through the Chicago Bears secondary. There is a gate and a line to get out of it. It’s one of those temporary gates that they put up for parties like this where a cover is charged although they are relatively futile since you could just simply Navy Seal it in from the beach if you really wanted to avoid paying cover, or simply slide throughat one of the fence connections. I weasel my way through a particular set of these gates and wonder if I could have done the same thing a few days ago before I lost ten pounds from lying in bed during all that time with no food. The brother is now at the gate trying to do the same thing but he’s too big, he can’t fit and just as he’s about a quarter of the way through he is grabbed by off duty police officers getting paid overtime I would assume to work security at this particular function. I hear him saying unpleasant things to them and intermittently yelling at me. It seems that his English is not as good as his sisters but he’s apparently learned the words, “I’ll kill you!“ So he has that going for him, which is nice. I cut in line, jump in a cab, the cabbie says, “Where to?” in his best English. I say, “Any the F where but here just drive man, just drive!” He speeds off. I collect my thoughts, catch my breath and for the first time in a long time breath a huge sigh of relief and begin to laugh. Once we get our bearings straight I tell him to take me back to my condo at Praia Mole. I’m tired, I drift off to sleep in the cab. This is the last thing I recall.

I wake up the next day in my bed in a puddle of sweat. I recall the events of the night before and realize that there were no events from the night before. It was nothing more than the most vivid dream that I’ve ever had. A feverish delirious dream but a dream nonetheless. My clothes are still folded neatly in a pile where they’ve been since I came down with this god-forsaken cold. The morning sun is gleaming through the window. I’m soaked wet through and through probably to the mattress but I feel amazingly better although nasty because there is nothing worse than waking up in a puddle of cold, wet sheets and blankets. I spin up, put my feet on the floor and walk to the bathroom, my sunburn has turned into a golden brown and reflected back at me in the mirror is a beautiful set of Jesus abs. My friends are gone and I suggest to myself that it would be a good idea to walk down to the local beach. As I walk out of the house and lock the door behind me a smile comes to my face as I think to myself, “This day has an endless array of possibilities.”

Kelly Kortman

The previous story is purely fiction. Any similarity to real names places or situations is totally coincidental.

So it’s Saturday. Day 7 of the vacation. I’ve just awoken from my two day sick bed. Not fun on vacation, thank god we decided to do a longer length of time. We are heading back up to the north end of the island, the place I described earlier that my friends made it too but I hadn’t, Jurere. It’s where there is a Nikki beach style club that apparently we are VIP too, my airline pilot buddy Paul has a buddy who has a house up North in Jurere and has taken the time to get to know many people very well. I spend the day yesterday writing the above, sleeping intermittently, showering as I kept waking up in a series of cold sweats. I watched a few south park episodes on my computer. My buddies come home late, they read my above story and feel sorry for me because of the pure irony of the story considering that my fiction writing the polar opposite of the experience that I was actually having. Like my buddy Ardi said, great art comes through great suffering. I’m not suggesting that that is great art, but it’s better than other stabs I’ve made at writing fiction. Life goes on. We are out the door and on our way to this beach party. I just want to feel better and home that at some point today this becomes a reality. I’m still feeling a little off but this time it seems from the medication that I’m taking. I cannot tay here another day so I’m heading up with them.

Brazilian Media

2009-03-11T15:26:00.000-07:00

We feel that to reveal embarrassing or private things, we have given someone something, that, like a primitive person fearing that a photographer will steal his soul, we identify our secrets, our past and their blotches, with our identity, that revealing our habits or losses or deeds somehow makes one less of oneself ...

... I had forgotten that, and so many things. How could I put everything down on paper? It seemed impossible. No matter what, the majority of life would be left out of this story, this sliver of a version of the life I'd known. But I tried anyway.

— Dave Eggers

Well boys and girls. Looks like I'm pretty much done compiling photos and whatnot.

Here is some media from Brazil:

Musical Slideshow (the first few songs are major anthems from the trip)

Static Photo Gallery

This is a little video of the 2nd secret beach we hit on our last Saturday (the one Paul skipped on). It's called Lagoa Naufragados. We took a boat there but we hiked back through the jungle.

Here's a clip from our one night at Pacha. Lighting is bad and doesn't really convey the magnitude and scale of this place but I think you get the vibe.

We went to the dunes of Joaquina to sand surf but it was raining and the sand was sticky. So we just drove another 1/2 mile and did the real kind of surfing. I guess if it was sunny and dry we would have looked something like this.

This is a clip from the secret beach we found on the SE corner of the island early on. We took a car and 2 motorcycles to the trailhead. It rained the whole hike. Paul made it back barefoot. It's called Lagoinha do Leste which I think translates to hidden beach or something.

I tried to find some clips of the other spots we spent time at. Unfortunately the only clips I found seemed to revlove around a lot of T&A without really showing the other merits and natural beauty.

Here's a clip of P12 in the winter. We were there in the summer. Lots of photos in the gallery. The video makes it look like a bit of a poser-fest. An S&M (Stand and Model) joint perhaps. It's a lot more laid back and wholesome in the summers.

Here is a clip of Praia Mole where we lived. Again, it's too bad the clip's all about T&A because it's actually a beautiful beach with good waves, cold water, and lots of good food, drinks, and music.

Brazil - Part IV: Beginning of the End

2009-02-26T15:35:00.000-08:00

So much has happened in the past few days. I'm not sure where to begin. I've been on a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride but I think I can probably settle down long enough to wrap up this trip report.

After my last post we headed down to a club called "Conferia" which had advertized house music on one of the flyers the fellas got handed. The guys caught a nice buzz over dinner at DNA while I stayed sober so I can drive them around. We roll down to the joint and it's a pretty cool looking spot. Designed sort of in the tradition of the old Jamaican dance halls. A big dinner area, comfy lounge / lobby, and a nice dance room with a big bar. Only problem is, it's Samba night. Matt is very irritated by this apparent "Switch and Bait". I don't mind it so much. I spend some time with a chef/jiu jitsu fighter and a Hotel Hostess from Puerto Alegre. They're cool people and we have fun chatting and dancing. I'm not sure where it happened but Paul and Kelly are gone. Matt's slurring as he comes to the lobby where I was kicking back with my new friends and he's very irate at the music and our missing friends. It's getting late and Matt looks on the verge of commiting a crime so I say goodbye to my friends and we take off.

We're both starving so we stop off at a late night joint. We order salads, get hot dogs (with no meat), send it back, and then take off because we think they're going to spit in our food. We find another food shack closer to home. As we sit down a group of vampires (I don't know what else to call them) sit down at our table uninvited. I don't know what it is about these girls but they creep the fuck out of me. They have nice bodies but I suddenly feel like I'm in a scene from interview with a vampire. I go inside and pay Matt and my bill in advance. Then I come back out and a new vampire is sitting in my seat. I tell Matt to eat as fast as he can and although he's drunk, having fun, and oblivious to my freaking out he follows my lead and we jet out pronto. I think maybe more than anything I was scared of seeing the sun and hearing the morning birds chirp before I went to bed. Bad flashbacks I guess. Maybe I was the vampire after all.

The next day, the guys go to the mall. There's no way I'm taking part in any of that. I chill at home, read on the beach, and return our rental car for a new one (long boring story). I also sit down with Kelly and fully listen to his baby mama drama and offer him some serious advice for the first time on this trip.

That night we roll around the streets of Lagoa, drink Absinthe, and enjoy the free outdoor public samba concert. Matt's having bad flashbacks of Conferia but I got a nice buzz and I'm lovin' the Absinthe. It's like the Smirnoff Ice version Absinthe and it's sold in every gas station and market in green bottles. Yummy. Kelly is mesmerized by the tall tranny's and Paul is in love with the mirrored storefronts. I'm still the DD and I drive home with a huge smile on my face and sleep like a champ.

The next day, we decide to explore the South West corner of the Island which we have not been to. Paul is anticipating a lot of traffic on the way home since we're officially in Carnaval Weekend. When we hit a particular intersection to get out of Lagoa and he sees the oncoming traffic he jumps out of the car. We continue on our journey and see a the most authentic, non-commercialized part of the Island. We take a boat to another hidden beach which is not accessible by road. It's wide and beautiful. Bushy green hills surround the expansive beach. Horses roam the finges and a few shacks nestled in the greenery sell food and drinks. You can see the mainland across the water. We play football and pepper, chat, swim, and have a good time keeping to ourselves. When it's time to go we decide to hike back instead of taking a boat. We have some trouble finding the trail back among all the green foliage and the locals who claim to know the way get us lost for a while but we all laugh it off and eventually find the trail. I love sweating and getting the toxins out. He hit a bit of traffic around Campeche but pull some jedi moves and use our detailed map to hit a shortcut around all the traffic. The sound of drums, signifying the local parades, is like a death sentence and we strive to avoid it. We arrive at the intersection that caused Paul to jump out. 9 cars and 3 minutes later (we timed it exactly) we're through it. I look forward to rubbing Paul's face in his own feces. I know he was bored all day because he kept texting us on the cheap little cheapy cell phones we had that only worked on the Island.

P: What are you guys doing?
A: We're on a boat?
P: Where are you going?
A: Hidden beach. You should see this place it's amazing. Have fun at the mall.
P: I'm glad you found something fun to do. Maybe now someone can remove the tampon from your hole.
A: Sorry. All out of Tampons. Can you pick some up at the mall?

By the time we get home it's dark and late. The the beachfront joints by our home are closed and we're scared to brave the reverse carnival traffic back into town for food. As luck would have it there is a huge gay hotel about 200 meters south of us. We go in. It's dark. Not a sound. We soldier on into the depths of this seemingly dead resort which hours ago was covered with brown gay bodies and speedos from wall to wall (according to Paul). We go the restaurant and it's open. I'm already drunk and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. No shoes. No shirt. No problem. The host offers the fellas 50% discount if their cute little friend keeps his shirt off. Sold. We eat at the buffet and it was hands down the best meal of the trip. No question about it. We're thinking about winding down after a long day, nice buzz, and full belly but we get a call from friends on our cheapy local phones and they tell us that we should not miss Pacha tonight. David Guetta' from Paris is spinning. Pacha is all the way on the North side of the Island. We debate it for a while. We already have a full day planned tomorrow. Is it really worth it? Does a bear shit in the woods? Does Paul flex is every photo? Does Kelly shower with CB SPF 1000? Hell yeah ... we're going.

It's pissing rain out. Our crappy ride is fogging up and the fellas are drinking. Matt's my navigator but he decides to call George for some idle chit chat in the hairiest part of the trip and I'm trying to drive and read signs through my foggy rainsoaked window all at the same time. Paul won't shut up and I snap at him. It was a moment of weakness which I regret. It's cool and forgotten once we get there. We're in awe of the size of this place in the middle of nowhere. The guys were short on cash but we assumed we could use our credit cards. No such luck. You gotta pay cash for the cover. Paul and I are the only ones with any substantial cash at this point. All our $ together still won't get the 4 of us in but we're in luck. Scalpers are selling tiks for 20 rials less outside. We can get in at that rate. We buy the tickets outside the lot and roll back in. This place is like a mall. Imagine a food court at a mall. That's how all the multiple bars in this place were set up. It also had an outdoor dancefloor the size of 3 football fields with the hugest DJ stand ever. The DJ stand and couches / dance floor around it alone was big enough to be it's own establishment. The headliner doesn't start until 3 a.m. and seems to alternate between really epic house and tweaky techno. Probably for the contrast I suppose. All melodic house sounds better if it comes after harsh, soulless techno. It was a very epic night. On the drive home I get to see the sun rise over Lagoa. I decide to treat the moment like a blessing, a beautiful moment, a gift from god instead of the dirty moment when you realize you've been up partying all night and sun is here to remind you what a loser you are. Not everyone shares my prespective and I have to listen to more whining but my spirit perseveres I go to bed happy.

Side Note: I've been conditioned to be ashamed of my "Americanness" when I travel. Thanks Dubyah. Sometimes I'm even embarassed to throw the ball around on the beach because I know it's an instant give away. But that night David played a remix of "American Boy" and all the girls in the joint lost their minds. They were dancing and singing the lyrics out loud. Maybe they just like the melody. Maybe they didn't even know what they were singing. I'd like to think they did. It made me feel fuzzy inside.

I get up after 4 hours of sleep and feel surprisingly good (probably because I drank nothing but water, and lots of it, the night before). We're headed to P12 because we love it. Once again, George and Benia have some of their promoter friends get us some passes up front and Anna is there to greet us. For the first time ever she seems a little tired but still in a good mood and very kind. The lack of sleep in definitely catching up with Paul and he hits the "Miami Zone". Last time I saw him like this was when he stayed up for 72 hours straight in Miami. He's hyper but sloppy at the same time. Strangely, he's flexible and non-judgemental and I like this version more than the others for some reason. We run into a lot of friends and it's a bit sad since we also know we're close to leaving. It was a nice chance to spend one of the last days of the trip with most of the people we've met. Sun goes down, beats of are absolutely epic, and I never want to leave. But we eventually do.

Matt and Kelly crash hard. Paul and I stay up and decide to head into town for quick internet and food. I haven't emailed Jen for days and feel bad. Plus we're both starving. Unfortunately, because we're right across from the most popular beach on the Island, this means that end of day traffic by our house during Carnival is insane. We sit in the car for 15 minutes and can still see our driveway. We turn around. Paul calls some ladies who are in Lagoa and basically puts in an order of food for us. God bless the kid. He might not have a soul but he's got game. His mackalicious skills save us from starving.

Our last day is spent at Praia Mole across from the crib. The day is cut short as a rain storm hits the beach and we go home clean up and head out for one last dinner with friends. There are some painful goodbyes and I retire to pack and prepare for departure. I'm excited to see Jen and kids. I have a picture of Max and Riley taped to the inside lid of my first aid kit. I don't know why it's there. I think it's because I figured that is the spot I'll be looking at if shit goes wrong and that's the moment I'll need the most strength. I leave the kit open on my nightstand and drift to sleep.

Officially, this is more or less the end of the "trip". We return the car at the airport, fly to Sao Paulo, and after a 10 hour layover fly first class (thanks to Paul) to DC. Unfortunately I hardly get to enjoy it as I force down the cardboard tasting gourmet dinner, slam a drooler, and pass out. Matt flies to Cali and the rest of us to Seattle. However, these 36 hours had their own share of drama and heartache.

I've always lived by the Philosophy of "Do the right thing and tell the truth." I try not to do anything I'm ashamed of and in turn take pride in always being in a position to tell the truth. I've tried to be honest and forthright in all these travel stories. However, I now find myself being asked by others to leave out crucial details and since love prevails I will abide by their wishes.

I am home now. I slept for 12 hours last night. I kept waking up not knowing who I was, where I was, or where I was going. Where am I? Who am I? Am I in Seattle? Is Seattle my home? Do they speak Persian here? How long am I staying?

I spent the day with the kids and Jen and I are trying reconnect at a stronger level. I didn't think it was possible but I've grown from this trip and have realized that I need to remap some things in my life that had become a bit unhealthy.

My final thoughts are odes to my travel partners.

Kelly you are a kind soul and a misunderstood gentleman. I think you're too good for the crowd you hang out with.

Paul I hope you stay forever young and never lose your spirit or enthusiasm. I envy you.

Matty supported me during my down times. Weather I was injured, sick, or emotionally distraught he had my back and I took immense pride in doing the same for him. He also covered for me financially in many situations. Like my mom once said when we quarrelled over who gets to pay the bill, "Whoever has more pays." Although I was the more financially successful of the two of us for the majority of our friendship, Matty's been killing it lately and gladly covered for me in all of our more "frivolous" expenditures. You are a rare friend. I love you brother. I'll never forget the chicken meal in the bus stop.

Jen's calling me up for dinner. It smells good. Like home.

Brazil - Part III: Deep Cool

2009-02-20T14:21:00.000-08:00

I’m not sure when it happened. I stopped taking notes. My writer’s eye, the one that tries to remember everything for future retelling closed up. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’ve been flowing through life enjoying myself and not caring about much. I am no longer tired. But my heart is still true. It always will be.

I will try to remember everything to the best of my ability but forgive me if this ends up sounding like an uninspired middle school essay on “What did you do this summer?”

When I finished the last blog, the fellas were coming to pick me up so we can go out at night for the first time since we got to Flo. We weren’t really in the mood for turbo club action so we just hit the center of the local beach town and hung at the main intersection drinking beers and chatting with the locals. I ran into some guys that we had met on the south side of the Island. They had both lived and worked in the US before. One as a student in SanFran. The other as a ski lift operator in Utah. They were very cool. We discussed some cultural nuances of Brazil and America and they taught me some Portuguese. Most importantly “Grilled Chicken with Veggies” the most important survival phrase for me when I travel.

Funny incident from that night … while I was talking to my new friends in the street, the fellas went to a bar to get some drinks. I guess Paul asked a girl in Portuguese if she spoke English to which she replied in a very loud and annoyed fashion: “NO !!!”.

They told me the story later. A few hours later as we walk by with our new friends laughing and having a great time I see them sitting at the same exact table. Still alone. Still with no one to talk to. Poetic justice. I’ve tried to be as open as I can this trip and savor every new person I meet.

The next day we drive to the north coast. Jurrere. There is a day club there, P12, which is more amazing than anything in Vegas or even Ibiza when I was there 10 years ago. Paul’s local friend Benia works in an advertising agency that handles all the print and media for the major clubs around here and she had hooked us up with free passes. We also make friends with the manager Anna who is extremely classy and cool. Benia and her friend George meet us there. We also meet a few other promoters. It’s an off day at P12 since it really only pops on weekends but it’s a good opportunity to make friends and contacts. We have a fun, laid-back time and later Benia and George show us Mark’s house and take us to the Pharmacy for some ass medicine for Matt

By the way, on our way out of P12 Paul, who had pounded a few drinks leans into Anna’s ear and whispers one word. “Sexy”. It made me cringe. She had been so kind and classy. I really hoped that Paul had not offended her. Future visits to P12 proved me wrong. I guess a brother can go far with movie star good looks, a #5 smile, and little bit of confidence. Anna continued to treat us 1st class.

We drive home after dark and have to hurry since we’re going out with Reno to El Divino. It’s an amazing club. I get sweated at the door for having on a sleeveless shirt so I have to find our vale’d car a few blocks away and get another shirt out of it. It was a huge hassle but Matt and Benia who had met us there helped out. Once again, Benia came through and not only helped with the valet situation but also got us in. Reno had a nice VIP section reserved. I’ve always been fundamentally against the VIP concept at clubs. What’s the point of going out to a social function only to then isolate yourself from the crowd. I like to talk, dance, mingle, and just roam. I also can’t stand people who get their sense of worth or a good time from a velvet rope. Nonetheless, it’s a great time all around and we go home late but happy. Sadly, Kelly stayed home sick. We told him he didn’t miss much. We lied.

The next day was a fog. I can’t recall much. I get on the bikes with Matty and we go get some food and try to sleep a bit on the beach. Later he run errands while I read and then we get some health food at DNA in Lagoa. We try to watch “No Country for Old Men” on his laptop and fall asleep after the first 10 minutes.

Saturday we go back to P12 and enjoy the fact that Kelly is finally well enough to go out with us. We get him wasted which probably wasn’t a good idea. I stay dead sober and enjoy the antics of my loaded friends as I drive them home after dark. Life’s good. We meet some friends for Tai food and go to bed early.

Sunday is the big house music day at P12 and it’s OFF THE CHAIN. World class DJ’s. Best day of the trip by far. We meet Australians, Argentineans, Brits, and people from every corner of the globe. We also run into our American friend Mike who’s like a mini-Colin and stands out a bit due to his height and decent fitness. At this point Kelly is dominating the party much like Mack dominated the dive in Koh Tao (if you don’t know about that … sorry). Paul is kind of a big deal and Matt is on cloud 99. Paul has strangers coming up to him and wanting to take pictures with him. Matt’s beating his chest like a silver back in heat and the fans love it. I walk around with no ego for I am one with the people. I have a lot of fun talking to different folks and dancing. As the great philosopher Jeff Larson once said: “I’m the shit.”

The next day Matt and I go to Barra De Lagoa for some competitive volleyball. We’re disappointed with the quality of the competition but since Matt can’t jump due to his knee the games remain close. My competitive side comes out and Matt tells me I’m being a dick and he’s probably right. We go to bed early.

The next day turns out to be pretty epic. We go to the sand dunes of Joaquina for some sand surfing but it’s raining and you can’t really slide on wet sand. We’re not too disappointed since it would have just amounted to snow boarding down bunny slopes but still worth the experience. So Matt and I surf instead while Paul and Kelly eat and check the internet. Next, we hit Campeche beach and realize it’s time to finalize our tickets home.

There’s one thing that had been a source of uneasiness for me this entire trip. I could stay ‘til the 27th but my friends had to leave around a week sooner. I kept trying to convince them to stay longer but it seemed in vain. I considered staying alone or with the many friends we’ve made but I got really depressed when I did that in Thailand and didn’t want to feel that way again. That evening when Paul checks the loads for standby flights he discovers that no one can leave until the 24th. I’m ecstatic. Paul copes with the news. Matt’s non-pulsed. Kelly is devastated. But I know what’s best for him and assure him he’ll be glad this happened by the time he’s on his deathbed. (Which may very well have been the bed he was laying in as we spoke.) That’s just kind of bastard I am. Turns out I was right.

The next day we’re back at Barra De Lagoa. The competition is better and Matt and I play late. We tell the fellas to take the car home. We’ll figure out our ride. By the time we’re done my back’s hurting. We eat a whole chicken with our bare hands out of a paper bag in a dark desolate bus stop. Matt buys me Smirnoff and carry’s my bag again since my back’s wrecked. I cherished the decrepit meal in the jacked bus stop for, once again, it’s something only the closest of brothers can share with no pretension.

The next day is a lazy day at our local beach, Praia Mole. Matt, Kelly, and I decide to walk to the rock formations at the end of the beach and take pictures. It requires us to walk through a strongly gay area of the beach. Amusing but no big deal. When we get there, we find out that Kelly’s camera is out of batteries, again, and we have to hike back through gayland, again. When we get back to our bags which were being watched by some friends we run into Paul. Now he have to hump back through homoville again, this time with our trophy new boyfriend. We take some amazing pics. Kelly and I continue hiking over the hill to the next beach and it’s wondrous. Pictures from our crappy cameras will not do it justice. It’s also a nude beach which causes Kelly to sprint out of this killer frame I had set up because some naked guy came to within 15 yards of him. Lost a bit of respect for him on that move. On the way back we meet the first and only cool Americans we’ve met the whole trip (the only other one was a fat, drunk, obnoxious girl from Atlanta at P12). We eat at a cool beach bar with nice beats and watch the sun go down. I had met the DJ earlier that day through a friend and he wanted to give me a CD.

We got home and I took a shower earlier than the rest of the crew so I though I’d write this while they got ready. We’re going to Conferia for some house music tonight. Be safe and keep it sexy.

Brazil - Part II: Tears in the Sand

2009-02-12T15:12:00.000-08:00

I am tired.

My heart is true.

- Dave Eggers

Third world travel can be strange. There is almost no other time in life with manic ups and downs, euphoric highs, and heartbreaking lows so closely squeezed in together. Like sardines in a can the good times and the bad seem to line up right next to each other with very little room for neutral emotions or insignificant downtime.

Injuries, food poisoning, accidents, and heartache go hand in hand with the joy of discovering new things, places, people, & music. Sadness and joy, like fraternal twins, wear different faces but are never too far from each other and are born from the same parents, hope & expectation. (My brother once said "When you travel, expectation is a bitch.")

But what’s felt often fades with time while what’s done (what happens) lasts forever. One of the greatest quotes I’ve heard is from my friend Marty. We were looking over some pictures from a Vegas trip and he said: “You know that was a great trip … even when we thought we weren’t having fun we really were.” And that is so true. I just spent 24 hours with food poisoning (more on that shortly) fading in and out of delirium, puking, and painting the bowl. But I’m pretty sure in 6 months I’d give my left nut to be back in Florianopolis taking turns puking and laughing with Matt. Any time one of us is playing poorly we just remind each other, “Hey, your worst day at the beach is better than your best day at the office.”

And so it is, fair reader, that the last few days have been a whirlwind of ups and downs. It took me 3 attempts in 2 days just to type these first few paragraphs. If I was to heavily plagiarize “Gym Class Heroes” and write a poem about what my life’s been like lately (or … let’s be honest … what I WISH my life was like) it would be something like this:

Cheezy Poem

P.S. That’s just a hacked poem so please don’t take every verse literally. I think you all know the portions that do and don’t apply

OK enough with reflection. Let’s get back to facts and events. I would also like to make 2 things perfectly clear before I go on:

1) I will roast and make a lot of jokes at my friends’ expense but It’s all in good fun and ball busting. I wouldn’t travel across the world with ANYONE who I didn’t have 100% faith, respect, and love for. I was told that some of the stuff I wrote in the last blog was offensive to some so I want to publicly apologize right now.

2) Despite what you are about to read, we are all 4, at this moment, in perfect health and spirits so please don’t be concerned.

Moving on …. When we last left our heroes, they were sitting in a hotel room in Rio doing shots while the sexy one was wrapping up his blog. Once the fellas were ready we took a cab to Lapa, the historical district in Rio. This area was very poor and extra sketchy late at night. There was one lively alley where some folks were selling their art and booze. We hung out there for a while, checking out art and chatting with the locals. Matt seems to be a magnet for drunk people with bad breath who think he understands what they’re saying. Paul and Matt got their portrait done together, eternally linking their souls in a bad replica of two guys looking like a young Kirk Russell and that cheese dick from “The fast and the furious”.

Afterwards we accidentally ended up at a gay bar where Kelly seemed to finally smile for the first time and Matt showed everyone what a skilled meat gazer he truly is. Totally kidding. But Paul really did have his picture taken with a tranny. It was worth the laughs.

Random Side Note: Paul's facebook status the next day read as follows … “Paul is putting on some CockBlock SPF 45 for extra protection.” He claims he didn’t do it. The culprit remains at large.

Anyhomo, the next day was very laid back. We spent the whole day lounging at the beach. Matt and I found a huge sand dune created by the digging of a waterway between Ipanema beach and the lagoon behind it. We did some sprint drills up the dune. It was awesome. Then some local kids tried to race us and of course we all know who won. To make up for coming in 2nd, Matt did a front flip off the top of the dunes and kids got a kick out of it. (FYI, Matt’s knee has been jacked this whole trip). We also did some peppering and drills and threw the football around with Kelly. Paul was photographed passed out next to Eric Schaeffer’s book “I can’t believe I’m still single”. It’s a hilarious photo. (Editors Note: Paul claims that he can “totally” believe why he’s single”)

Anyhorny, as the sun was setting we figured it was time to GTF outa dodge. We went back to the hotel, called GOL airlines and booked some tickets to Flo for 10:40 a.m. the next day. The plan was to figure out where we’re staying once we got there. Paul suggested trying to find a house so I emailed a guy I had corresponded with a few weeks earlier. Luckily he replied back that the had a condo available for us. VERY lucky. Paul also suggested that we reserve a car so we hooked that up as well. Once it looked like everything was settled we decided to take a brief stroll to Copa Cabana beach (home to one of my heroes, Jose Loyola) and go to bed early since we had the morning flight. Big mistake. We stopped to eat at a place that looked fairly respectable but the food was atrocious. It’s been almost 48 hours since that moment and I’m gagging recalling the event. Kelly was on 2 painkillers and very funny. Also, Matt attracted more drunk people with bad breath who thought he understood them. The boy’s a hobo magnet. Kinda like how Kelly is a chick magnet. Or how Paul’s a tranny magnet.

That night was hell. I had to stay up late to finalize all the details for our house and car. Meanwhile, Matt was so sick that he turned off the AC and put on his fleece while he prayed to the porcelain gods every few minutes and I was sweating my ass off. Trying to coordinate everything at 3:00 am with food poisoning and having to get up at 7:00 am was not fun. I never really told the guys how much that sucked but it did. The only upside was that they were all very appreciative and thankful when we arrived and that made it all worthwhile.

We somehow manage to get our act together in the morning and pack, check out, jump in a cab, and go to the airport. Matt was VERY VERY sick. I was not as bad but also felt pretty shitty. Paul and Kelly seemed OK. We still kept our gallows humor about us and made it through the place although Matt would just fall asleep everywhere we stopped and he constantly needed a plastic bag nearby to vomit in. I carried his stuff and woke him up every time we needed to move.

Important Side Note: Despite how well and how long I’ve known Matt, I am absolutely blown away but the way he can quietly take his pain, suffer through his daemons, and not utter the slightest complain. If I was a girl, I think I’d find this one of the most attractive qualities in a man.

Kelly has got to be the most flexible and non-judgemental guy I’ve been around. He is low maintenance and has a great sense of humor. I can definitely get deep with him and his concise insights always impress and entertain me. Sometimes I feel like I’m harsh with him but it’s the brotherly crassness that’s bread from comfort, trust, and familiarity.

Also, as much as I like to bust his balls, Paul’s a great road dog. He is the eternal optimist and enthusiastic traveler. He’s very good at thinking things through 3 or 4 steps ahead and predicting consequences other wouldn’t think of until it’s too late. I’ve been to more places with him than anyone else and there’s a good reason for that. I’m not sure what that reason is but I’ll let you know when I figure it out.

Once we land in Flo we meet our car guy at the airport and take off in our Volkswagen GOL. We meet Reno who is sort of a semi-concierge. He’s a former pro surfer who lives in one of the condos here and helps the visitors with everything from car & motorcycle rentals, to cell phones, guides, translators, reservations, and everything else. We quickly bond since he’s about our age and temperament and even make plans to go out in a couple of nights. He’s a first class dude and we’re lucky to have him on our side.

Our day of arrival is a long and painful blur. Once we check in we take turns sleeping, puking, shitting, etc. I faded in and out of sleep and slept for over 12 hours. Paul said it was 16 but I have no idea when I fell asleep or when I woke up.

Funny Dialogue

ARDI: I feel bad. I had to take a Valium last night to fall asleep. I don’t like taking stuff like that.”

PAUL: I know. I wanted to take a drooler (sleeping pill) but I kept falling asleep before I could take it.

At this point (before the long sleep) my mind is cannibalizing itself. On top of the illness and sleep deprivation I’m also spinning into a surreal depression since I can see my long awaited vacation wasting away and going nowhere. I’m wondering if it’s all happening because of bad luck or have I done something, or worse, become someone, to deserve this. (All that went away the next morning).

I’m dreaming. Walking through a never ending airport terminal. It's the outdoor kind in the tradition of Thai Islands. No matter how fast I walk everyone is passing me and I know I'm going to miss my flight. Where are my bags? I see Paul and Kelly carrying a suitcase with Matt in it. When I open the suitcase all the way I see that it’s only the top of Matt’s head (scalp) and the rest of him is not there. I dig through the bag frantically trying to find the rest of him and piece him together. Kelly cries. Paul laughs. I wake up.

It’s 8:00 am. Everyone’s asleep. Even though I feel groggy and weak from having little more than a bowl of fruit for the past 24 hours I decide to go for a run on the beach in hopes of jumpstarting myself. The beach is empty. I run to the end but gas out quickly and walk back physically and emotionally drained. On the way back I see a yellow flag on a pole high above the beach. It instantly reminds me of my childhood on the beaches of the Caspian Sea where I spent the summers at my grandparents villa. They had Green, Red, and Black flags to indicate the danger levels at the beach for swimmers. I suddenly flash back to a picture of a 5 year old me on a horse with my grandfather holding the harness. The last time I saw him was when he came to Houston my senior year in High School. He got to watch me play a hell of a football game against our rival high school and although he didn’t understand the game much he loved to see me run and hear my name called on the PA each time the crowd roared. I am eternally grateful to god for giving him that experience. A few weeks later when I was leaving on a ski trip to New Mexico he cried when we said goodbye. I had never seen this mountain of a man, this rock of integrity shed a tear but he did that day. Later, my mom told me it was because he knew he would never see me again. He was right.

Even though the beach is empty I hide behind an old lifeguard shack so no one can see me cry. I’m there for a while.

When I get back I fix myself a protein shake, take a shower, and fall back asleep. I wake up to the sound of Matt washing dishes. We decide to rent some motorcycles and visit the south side of the island where there is a secret beach only accessible via a 1 hour hike. Kelly drives Matt and I to the bike rental place.

I have an embarrassing confession to make. I never learned how to ride a manual transmission motorcycle. I mean I’ve rode mopeds and scooters before and even a manual moped but never a full on true blue motorcycle. The one time I tried to learn was in the back of Ehben’s mom’s property where I flew into his mom’s flowerpots and damaged the bike and myself. I figured I’d need to learn on a beach or something so I can’t mess anything up. No such luck today. Matt teaches me the fundamentals verbally and I listen intently. The rental place is on a busy street and I feel like I need to look like I know what I’m doing. Basically need to pull away from this place nice and smooth and blend right into the traffic. I trust Matt with my life so I listen to him and it all goes smoothly. They did however, give us the bikes with no gas so we run out of gas 40 yards from the place and Matt has to push his bike back to get a little bit gas so he can make it to the gas station. One of the bikes has a flawed starter but it works so we’re off.

Paul and Kelly drive to the beach while Matt and I follow/lead in our bikes. I quickly get a hang of things just like Matt promised. I finally feel like vacation has begun. Usually, it’s being submerged in the ocean that let’s me know I’m finally “there” but this time, for some reason, it's riding the bikes with Matt and following the boys in the GOL.

We stop for some photos and pick up a hitchhiker with his little daughter. He happens to be going to the same little fishing village where the trailhead to the secret beach starts and he shows us the way.

It was a great hike. In the tradition of all great tropical hikes. You get coated in a nice warm layer of sweat and your joints don’t hurt at all. It rained on us but it was like a warm shower. I liked it. Matt carried my back pack with everyone’s gear to spare my fucked up spine even though he has a fucked up knee himself. How can you not love a guy like that? Once we get to the beach we realize it’s getting dark. Also, Paul has flip-flops on and he’s concerned about trying to make it back in the dark. We try to get a boat to take us back but the last boat is leaving and it’s full. Soooooo we tough it out back to our cars and head home. Kelly rides Matt’s bike back. We all get separated and pretty much get home on our own but within a few minutes of each other.

I take a nice shower and chat with Reno about tonight and tomorrow night. The boys are now at the internet café. I’m home alone typing this since the Portuguese key boards are impossible to use. It would probably take me 3 days to type this. I’m going to save it and upload it later since there’s no internet connectivity here.

We’re finally going to go out tonight to celebrate our health and maybe throw it all away, again. I hear the VW GOL pulling in the driveway. Chao.