Laser Tag, Mary, and the Greatest Team Ever Assembled

I spent a good portion of my day, downtown doing more scanning work, amongst some other things for Corey, and as I'm on my way home, I gaze into the Green Turtle and notice Andy, Jeff, and Mary, enjoying a game of trivia. So at this point, I decide the only reasonable thing is to stop in and say hello. As I am about to walk in the door, Mary is walking out and appears to be headed in another direction. I was able to catch up with her though and the first thing she asks me is if I am going to the next Friday night Orioles home game. She goes on to explain that she will be in attendance and while I am permitted to attend as well, I can not say hi to her or acknowledge her existence in any way shape or form if I so happen to see her.Now, if you know me, and you know Mary, you must know that there is no way possible that this could ever happen. I mean, I just think of the good ol' days, when Heavy D and I used to drive around the hood in the Tiburon, honking the horn, and leaning out the windows yelling Mary's name loudly as she was rollerblading. I mean Mary is quite possibly one of my favorite people, and she expects me not to acknowledge her existence at a baseball game? It's preposterous.

Due to some car issues, I went out to the Hunt Valley area to pick up Steve from the dealership. Upon picking him up, I had to make one pit stop to drop off a package at an office building in Lutherville. This turned out to quite possibly be the highlight of my day, as right next to the office building, was a large building named "Redzone". The building display said something about Laser Tag, Urban Miniature Golf, and a Laser Maze. At this point, it was evident that we were both checking this place out. The place was closed, but the owner gave us the grand tour, and basically "Redzone" is everything that is awesome rolled into one. On Tuesday and Friday nights, there is unlimited Laser Tag for 20 bucks. So in the next few weeks, it has become quite clear that we need to rock out a large group of people to this facility and just get sick with it, playing some old school laser tag. Creech and Brann are already sold on the idea, and will be making the trip from Calvert County this weekend just to participate. Anyone who reads this and feels the need to participate is more than welcome.

I just got back from the gym, and while I was there I became kinda frightened or perhaps maybe just bothered, by a trio of guys that were in the gym as well. These three guys were all lifting and rocking jorts. I strongly believe that jorts are a type of clothing that needs to stay inside the boundaries of a lovely place known as Dundalk.

I was talking with Pat last night and Pat is one that is always up for playing games. Now, some of the times these aren't even games, but I try and let Pat have his moment and just go with the flow. Pat asked me to list my favorite NBA players by position and choose an alternate as well. So here is what my team looks like:

PG- Steve Blake- Some Terrapin love here. Total assist man.

SG- Michael Jordan- The greatest player of all time

SF- Toni Kukoc- Toni Fuckin Kukoc

PF- Dennis Rodman- The ultimate badass. Rodman may quite possibly be on of the coolest athletes of all time.

C- Rik Smits- His nickname is "The Dunkin Dutchmen" need I say more?

6th Man- Chris Anderson- Just freaking crazy. Love the tats and the Mohawk, plus the man knows how to party.

Over the course of my day, I began to think of the other 6 players, I would choose to fill my squad and this is what I came up with.

Kyle Korver- Honestly, watch Korver play a game, look at his hairstyle, and tell me that he honestly doesn't give every white kid out there hope that they can make the NBA.

Mark Eaton- Google image Mark Eaton, than look at the rebounding and blocks he put up, and tell me this man is not worthy of the mention.

Charles Oakley- Throw him in a ring with Dennis Rodman, and only one person is coming out alive, that's a guarantee and now their both on the same team.

Steve Kerr- Plain and simple, the man can drain it from deep.

Muggsy Bogues- Gotta throw some love to B-More here, plus having a guy who is shorter than your average mom, is kinda cool.

Keith Van Horn- It's really all about the socks.

If this team were to ever be assembled, I'd be depleting my bank account and buying season tickets.

My apologies to John Stockton, Scottie Pippen, and Detlef Scremph, who all fell just a tad short of making the team.

My memory kinda fails me at the moment, but I know Pat's team consisted of Isiah, Magic, McHale, and Lambier, and I must say they would make a pretty formidable squad themselves.

Popcorn Throwers Who Lie About Mother's Day

Sunday afternoon, I'm minding my own business, eating an overcooked burger that was prepared by 5 guys, and watching the NFL draft. Out of nowhere Corey brings up the fact that it is Mother's Day and how he has to go to some dinner with his Mom and Grandmother in a few hours. Now, this was really the first news of the day that seemed relevant to me, because while I know very little about NFL scouting in the first place, I know even less when it comes to the players who are drafted on Day 2. So immediately, I questioned the validity of his statement, as did Ryan, but after a convincing argument, I came to agree with him, thanked him for pointing this fact out so that I would not look like a terrible son, and was on my way. When I returned home around six p.m. and handed my mother a card and a small gift, she was quite surprised, when she found several Mother's Day gifts with her name on it. So instead of looking like a terrible son, I guess I just looked like a retarded son. Thank you Corey.

After several hours of dealing with annoying old women who can not make up their minds, I ventured down to the Orioles game with Corey to meet up with a large number of people that I associate with on a regular basis. Now, as anyone who has ever visited the bars by Camden Yards would know, it tends to be just a massive congregation of people, so you tend to maneuver frequently in varying directions. At some point in my travels, I ran into Nicole, who for some reason was very excited and surprised to realize that I knew her name. I had a tough time understanding this considering that she knows my name, and the remembering name knowing business is one area of life in which I excel. Also, I have used her place of residence as a place to crash on numerous occasions,and not to mention I have actually had a few conversations with her at various points in our brief friendship. And finally, we are friends on Facebook, and as everyone well knows a Facebook friend, is a friend for life. However, despite all these points, she still assumed that I had no clue who she was and somehow, I think me simply calling out her name, made her day, or at least it seemed to at that moment.

During the pregame activities, I was also getting quite frustrated with Corey. Thanks to a brief bout of forgetfulness, he had left his phone at my house, and kept stealing mine so that he could call acquaintances of ours, usually this wouldn't be that much of a problem, except it seemed every time, he was disappearing, I was involved in a conversation with young attractive females, that I would have liked to continue, but instead, had to follow him because he had possession of my phone and ticket into the game. Than to top all things off, after our entrance in the game, he found it particularly amusing to throw popcorn at a certain girl who was sitting with her boyfriend, who at one point in my life I entertained for a few late nights, and say "Geilf says hi," every time she turned around. After four or five popcorn hits to the head, she got up with her boyfriend and decided to relocate. To be honest though, it was pretty entertaining, and he's still good in my book.

But by far, the funniest part of the evening, was definitely on the cab ride to the game. As were on our travels to the game, I heard a voice calling my last name from a cab and looked over to see Jesse, Brann, and Amanda in the cab next to us. I begin conversing with Jesse, and Corey leans over to me and says "Is that guy in the middle Julia's gay friend, Matt?"

The weather is starting to get warm around these parts, and it really makes the scenery so much more beautiful when I drive around Towson.

Game 7 of the Capitals-Rangers series is tomorrow,and I'm hoping that Ovie, Mike Green, and Company can do away with the pesky Rangers and claim the victory. First of all it would be gratifying to see Sean Avery be eliminated from playoff contention and secondly, it would be nice to see Ovie continue his quest to be the ugliest person ever to sip from Lord Stanley's cup.

The Birdman, Tigerfest, and a Rather odd fellow named Pedro

I have spent the majority of this fine day, sitting in Corey's basement, entering endless amounts of data into a spreadsheet. As one could imagine it can get very tedious at times,but in it's defense it keeps me off the streets, which is typically a good thing. Plus, it did allow me to venture out to Chicken Rico, which for anyone, who has ever spent time in or around the area of Eastern Avenue should well know that Chicken Rico is all that is awesome.

There is an Orioles game Friday and it appears that I will be in attendance, which a large gathering of people I associate with on a regular basis. I also have an inkling that a rather odd, short fellow who refers to himself as Pedro, will be tagging along with my buddy Matt. If this dude approaches you, be wary, very wary. Trust me on this one.

Saturday is Tigerfest, and Tigerfest usually brings forth lots of activity amidst the Towson area, specifically activities where binge drinking is prevelant and shenigans are frequent. However, after last year's great showing at the Skeezer house, I don't think anything can quite compare. Genna is telling me about kegs and eggs, and slip and slides at her apartment, which does seem enticing, but I am not entirely sold. Even though all three of those things get two thumbs up in my book. Either way, I'm sure I will be strolling around the area of Towson, getting into things I probably shouldn't do.

I was watching the Denver-New Orleans game last night, and I was almost convinced that Chris Anderson may be one of the most entertaining players in the league. When you see a white boy, who is tatted up, and rocking a mohawk flying above the brothas and getting the crowd pumped up with an electryfying dunk and block, it really gets your blood flowing. Gotta love The Birdman.

Well the fun data fest is over and I'm headed back to the general Towson area to pump some iron. Holla at yer boy.

Boats and Ho's and a trip to the County

Due to an unexpected occurrence, which basically came forth as a result of my sudden case of dyslexia or just general stupidity, I found myself in Calvert County this weekend for the grand opening of the Solomon's Island Tiki Bar. And let me tell you one thing about people in Calvert County, they know how to throw a freaking party.

So after grabbing some lunch on Saturday afternoon, we decided to make the venture down to the Island, and Creech was our designated driver. Now, if you are reading this and actually have had the misfortune of meeting Creech, you know very well that Creech and designated driver belong no where in the same sentence, or even paragraph, for that matter. This proved to be true, as one Corona later, he was on his phone, attempting to find someone that could drive us home later in the day. Nevertheless, the man was successful, and we were all set to get wild.

The day was progressing pretty well, and anytime you begin drinking Corona's outside on a beautiful day with beautiful girls everywhere, the day typically does progress pretty well. After a brief recess, where I was camped out inside a bar with Brann,watching the Capitals and Ovie frolicking around on the ice and letting the Rangers take a stronghold on the series lead, I headed back out to all the craziness and this is where things started to get interesting. Next thing I know, the four of us are on a boat, with a liquor keg, people are doing back flips off the top of the boat, and everyone is just having a killer time. Now, at this point, the song "Boat's N Ho's" is basically becoming the theme for the afternoon. Now, with day turning night, and the shenanigans continuing, we began debating the idea of heading back towards the tiki bar, as it was starting to fill up in population. So after a successful attempt of the game "Ditch Dale" which was the most frequently played game of the day, we are back inside the Tiki Bar.

Next thing, I know Creech is approaching four young ladies asking them "What's good?" Now, this usually wouldn't warrant a mention in the blog, except, Creech's shorts were at his ankles and he was standing in his boxers. He continued to run around doing this to numerous people and one particular old lady took a dislike too his actions.But to make things more amusing, her husband, was on the opposite side of the fence. This fella is encouraging Creech and pointing out which girls he should get next. After a few more frolics around the bar with his shorts draped to ankles, Matt and I were able to get him out and we were on our way out of the Island and back to Creech's part of town for a party. However, Creech's antics were far from over and just as were about to get in the car, he is taking off like a banshee towards some house. I don't know whether it was the look of dismay from the old lady in the house, or the fact that I finally convinced him that there were no cookies in the cookie jar, but eventually I saved him from Round 2 of his 21st birthday and we were headed for a good ol party. The party went pretty smoothly, although Brann did disappear, Dale may have got a concussion, me and Creech almost brawled, and Matt almost killed us on the way home, everything was pretty much smooth sailing. And that my friends is the tale of the tiki bar weekend.

I was playing Megatouch for a minute last night, and they got this game Castle Bandits, and it really is quite addicting. Somehow I almost found myself cursing God when I would go on bad runs. But than, I figured the Big Guy in the Sky probably doesn't have too much care when it comes to Megatouch games and was back to normal.

I opened the sports section of the Baltimore Sun this morning and there was a picture of a Yankee fan reaching over the fence to grab a ball away from an Indian outfielder, and it reminded me of a certain punk named Jeffrey Maier. And if Jeffrey Maier were to one day go to Vegas, get super drunk, and get a horrible life changing STD from a transsexual hooker, that would make me smile. Than upon returning to New York, he were to suffer from a case of turettes, that too would make me smile. Either way, I guess what I'm trying to say, is that man is definitely not invited to my birthday party.

It's the Greatest Game Ever Played

Were in an era, where baseball is being pushed to the back burner. Were in an era, where arguably the greatest three players of our generation have used performance enhancing drugs (Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Alex Rodriguez). Were in an era, were America’s pastime, is being overlooked by the National Football League, College Basketball, and quite possibly even the National Hockey League. Were in an era, where quite possibly the greatest game ever played, is slowly losing its popularity, slowly losing its tradition, and slowly losing its prestige.

However, despite all this, we can not forget what the game of baseball truly means to the American people. We can not forget that baseball was every boy’s first love. We can not forget that baseball is poetry is motion. We can not forget that unlike any other sport, baseball is a chess match, a game of one’s wit pitted against that of another’s. We can not forget that baseball is America’s pastime.

It’s more than just a game. It’s more than just two teams battling it out for nine innings. It’s more than a pitcher versus a batter and a fielder against a live ball. It’s Jackie Robinson, ignoring the death threats and racial slurs, while breaking the color barrier. It’s Cal Ripken, ignoring the aches and wounds, to play 2,632 consecutive games. It’s Bob Lemon, backing a hitter off on a 1-2 count with a brush back fastball, just to come back and strike him out on the next pitch with a slider on the outside of the plate. It’s Carlton Fisk, waving the ball fair in game 6 of the 1975 World Series. It’s Tori Hunter, flying above the fence, to make a game changing catch and steal a home run. It’s Don Larsen tossing a perfect game in the World Series. It’s Reggie Jackson, establishing himself as Mr. October. It’s Joe DiMaggio and his 56 game hit streak. It’s the greatest basketball player of all time (Michael Jordan), hanging up his sneakers, to try and fulfill a childhood dream. It’s Greg Maddux, winning four consecutive Cy Young’s, without having a fastball that can even hit the 90’s. It’s a 5 foot 6, David Eckstein, winning the World Series MVP. It’s Manny being Manny. It’s the all-star, lights out, closer versus the cleanup hitter with the game on the line. It’s Brooks Robinson, the human vacuum cleaner, winning sixteen consecutive Gold Gloves. It’s a 42 year old rookie named Satchel Paige, giving it his best. It’s 40,000 plus fans showing up on Opening Day to cheer on a franchise that has ten plus consecutive losing seasons, because one day a year, there team is tied for first place. It’s Babe Ruth, calling his own shot. It’s that 38 year old catcher, in the minor leagues, still giving it his best, just to one day get a shot of making it to “the show.” It’s the Tampa Bay Rays, making it to the World Series, with a roster full of kids barely old enough to rent an automobile. It’s Murderer’s Row. It’s the Green Monster. It’s the crack of the bat. It’s the double play. It’s the suicide squeeze. Its rally caps and silly superstitions. It’s a walk off homerun. It’s baseball, it’s the greatest game ever played, its America’s pastime.

It could be Michael Jordan

So I don't know how I managed to pull this one off. Especially, considering that I have been fairly active lately, getting out a good bit, and going on runs, to increase the overall health and physique of my body. However, as I was walking this morning to pick up my car from Steve's, I managed to pull a muscle in my leg, and have since been walking with a limp. FML.

I was out and about in Towson last night, and ran into Jacquie. After your typical friendly exchange of hellos and how are yous, I proceeded to buy her a shot, since I failed to make it to the Horse for the celebration of the greatest day ever. Two cherry bombs later, she began explaining the awesomeness of my blog to Maria, and I was greatly disapointed, when she said she wasn't sure of the exact site but it has something to do with Michael Jordan.

Chris Carpenter pitched a solid seven scoreless innings last night for the Cardinals of St. Louis, and if he and Adam Wainwright can stay healthy, which neither of them managed to do last season, and with Fat Albert in the middle of the lineup watch out for the Cardinals in the National League. This is also prevalent, because the W, low E.R.A., and low W.H.I.P. posted by Carpenter, my chances of knocking Steve and the Baltimore Blumpkins off in Week 1 of fantasy baseball, have been drastically increased.

Somehow, well actually due to the consumption of alcohol, Jess missed her best chance to get recognition in my blog. She said something funny last night, it made me laugh, and I planned on using it to close out my blog entry today, however, right now I haven't even the faintest clue of what it was she said. I feel kinda bad, every time I see her, she asks what she can do to get recognition, usually before she even says hello, and once she does something worthy, I get drunk and forget. I blame it on the al al al al alcohol.

So it's beginning to appear, that the next place I claim residence in will be Timinioum. I guess that mean's lots of Hightops this summer.

Opening Day and Birthdays

The best day of the year has now come and passed, and it honestly couldn't have gone much better. Despite a few battles with mother nature, everything went according to plan, and the troublesome weather was expected, so therefore, prepared for quite adequately. I saw Stills for a quick minute, but once I ventured into Sliders, I turned around and he had vanished. Vanishing acts are quite frequent on a day like Opening Day, it wasn't something he should be ashamed of, although he did miss a shot of Cintron, which I know Andy tends to be a big fan of. Jamal was decked out in his usual American flag decor, which seemed to help him make friends quite easily as he was passing through the sea of black and orange. He even was able to make friends with some Yankee fans who were generous enough to donate a few free shots of Jager to us. They didn't seem quite as friendly during the game though or even after the game, that's a different story though. At one point we even wandered off from the main crowd and were able to convince a few higher uppers in the Best Buy franchise, who were escaping the pressures of the work place by inhaling tobacco products, to allow us into their convention so we could use the lavatories. Eventually, I found my way into the stadium, and was quite pleased with the results. Jeremy Guthrie, looked far different, than the Jeremy Guthrie who was playing for Team USA. Adam Jones, is a all-star in the making, and Ceasar Isturiz matched his home run total from all of last year with an 8th inning dinger. I at times, may have been a belligerent asshole to the Yankee fans in front of me, but they deserved everything they got, although they probably would have been more pleased if I stuck to napping rather than cheering, but that's not the way it worked out. After the game, there were plenty more shenanigans outside of Sliders, plenty of Scores girls, and plenty of boh's.

Do you think somewhere, well probably in New York, Yankee fans are a little bit worried that they just dropped 160 million dollars for an overweight pitcher who can't pitch in the postseason?


Also, wasn't it just priceless to see Mark Texiera, go 0-4 in his Yankee debut amidst all the boos. And than in his post game interview he said something about how in a perfect world he would be an Oriole. What a clown. Actually, priceless probably isn't the word I should have used there, that O-fer probably cost the Yankees about 100 grand.

I awoke this morning to a text message from Jacquie, saying that Wednesday is the celebration of the best day ever- the birth of Jacquie. And while I might disagree on the validity of that statement, Opening Day and a few others are pretty significant days, it definitely deserves mention. So I guess if your around the Fells Point area come to The Horse, hopefully this time I will leave with my shoes.

The Beaten Up, Barely Standing Champion

You gotta give it to Agent Zero. The man has had three knee surgeries in just over a year, comes back, and in his first game has a double double and helps the Wiz or the Zephyrs, beat the first place Cavs. Gilbert Fuckin Arenas.

Following my fantasy baseball draft, last night, I stopped up at the Kent to see my main man Stills. Upon my arrival, I found out that Jason had thrown Stilling a challenge, and for those of you who know Stilling, he is not a man to back down from a challenge. I once saw the man chug a 3 liter bottle of 99cent soda, without taking a break. Impressive stuff. Not to mention, there may not be anyone who can down an Irish Car bomb at a quicker rate. Nevertheless, the challenge issued to Stilling was to drink a whole case of beer before last call. Now, before this challenge began, Stilling was already four beers deep, and those beers were not part of the competition. Therefore, Andy was really looking at a 28 beer night, which as you can imagine, can take its toll on someone. But sure enough, with the clock winding down, Stilling was on beer number 23. At this point, a committee was held, and it was decided that he had reached his goal, as a result of his intense dedication or perhaps intense intoxication, and with the beers consumed before hand, he would be handed the prize. The prize being a signed Budweiser case, by all three of the Kent bartenders and the owner. Basically, at the end of the night, Stills kinda resembled Rocky Balboa, after Balboa went the distance with Apollo Creed, or Clubber Lang, or Ivan Drago, beaten up, barely standing, and holding his prize above his head, knowing that victory and the prize were well worth the beating he had just taken. Shortly thereafter, Edy, who drives cars for a man named Jimmy was on his way to take the beaten up champion home.

Speaking of Ivan Drago, is it possible that Dolph Lundgren changed his name to Andrei Kirelinko, and began playing basketball in Utah?

I finally found some tickets to Opening Day and couldn't be more pumped. Not only am I going with Jamal, who can make even the dullest of moments quite enjoyable, but Opening Day is hands down the best day of the year. Christmas? Eh, it's got it perks. Thanksgiving? The food's pretty tasty and there's football, so that's something. Fourth of July? The weathers usually nice, fireworks, barbecues, and booze, definitely nothing wrong with that combination. The day the Duke Blue Devils are eliminated from the NCAA tournament and Coach K has to shake the hand of the other coach, and wipe that evil Hitler smirk off of his face, definitely has it's perks as well, but none of them compare. Give me 40,000 plus fans coming out in piss poor weather, to help bring on the start of a new season. Give me the 40, 000 plus fans who are there to cheer on a team that hasn't had a winning season since the Iron Man was playing third, Robbie Alomar was HIV negative, and Rafael Palmerio was a walking syringe. Give me Pickles and Sliders at noon, and after the game. Give me a ballpark frank. Hell, even give me the light rail ride back home, which as many of you know can be quite amusing.

The Socially Inept Roberto Benigni

I had to run a few errands today, and as I was out and about, I pulled into a parking lot in Towson, and was instantly approached by a short Italian man. He started by asking me if I had jumper cables, because his car needed a jump, and I was willing to oblige. Once I moved my car to a more convenient spot to make this procedure a possibility, I began conversing with this short fellow and found him to be quite odd. Basically, imagine a socially inept and socially awkward Roberto Benigni. He was going on and on about his intense dislike for the parking attendant of the certain lot both of our motor vehicles were vacating. His displeasure for the parking attendant had become so extreme, that he felt the need to place a sign, stating "Fuck U Parking Man!" in big, black letters. He than proceeded to recommend that I do the same and even offered me his marker and yellow paper to make it official. However, I did not find this necessary and told him that I would be on my way. With his car now running, he slowly got back into his old broken down Volvo, nervous tick and all, and simply relocated his car to the parking lot across the street, which was in a chiropractor's office, with huge signs posted by Pollard's, and wandered back into Cafe Zen. I do not know how the rest of his day turned out, or if his battles and disregard for the parking lot attendant were ever solved.

I just got a message from Booboo, telling me about a certain photo she had posted on Steve's facebook page, and how I should check it out because it would be an awesome idea for Halloween. She posted several pictures of Aborigines and noted that Bobby, Creech, Jamal, Smedium, Steve, and I should all dress up as Aborigines for Halloween next year. For some reason, she thinks this would be absolutely hysterical. But, in my mind, Halloween is not typically celebrated during the warmest time of year, so the weather would be an issue, as we would all be nearly naked. Secondly, besides Jamal, the rest of us have a distinct disadvantage when it comes to correctly resembling an Aborigine. Also, on that note, some people may find us changing our color to be disrespectful and offensive, if they weren't already offended by our nearly naked bodies. And finally, what the hell would prompt someone on the first day of April, to think of Halloween outfits and Aborigines. In her defense though, last Halloween, Creech did dress up as a mail order Russian bride, and I was his date. So I guess that's saying something. The best part about that dress though was as the two of us were walking from Corey's house to Nate's for his wedding, a small child, out doing her trick or treating, looked at Creech and said "Its Santa Claus!" Her older brother, who was probably no older than nine, looked back at her, and said "That ain't no damn Santa, that a drag queen." It was priceless.

Well, I have a lot more to say, but due to time constraints, and the guidelines laid down by the Baltimore County judiciary system, I must be on my way.