Many A Summers Spent on the Back Deck at Vaeth's

I just checked in on Vaeth via Facebook and I hope the kid is doing well over there. I always liked the guy and I must say it will probably be a bit odd not spending at least one day on his back deck this summer. Now, I haven't spent as much time as Andy or Ross did on the back deck, the two of them have basically lived there over the past few summers, but I have spent quite a good bit of time there over the past six years or so, even going back to the days when I wasn't even friends with Ross. At that point I just considered Ross to be that sketchy kid who was friends with Vaeth, lived far away, was always smoking the whacky tobaccy, and never took off his damn sunglasses. But, as a result of that back deck, the kid kinda grew on me.

Not only have many a good times been spent on the deck at Vaeth's, but many a good times have been spent at his house in general. We would usually get the night, or in some cases get the day, started out on the deck, venture back inside, and usually wrap things up on the deck as well. Despite, the many good times spent inside the house, the deck is the one place, we all became to know as a second home.

The first time I started hanging out there, it was the summer of 2003, is the summer I quite possibly spent the most time on that deck. At the time, I was working at Pizza Hut, and my manager Maurice used to always have me give him a ride home and make a pit stop at McClleland's for a pint of Bacardi 151. After I would drop Maurice off down Limit Ave, I would swing by Vaeth's and more times than not him and Ross would be on the back deck and I would than pop my head in. McClleland's and Limit Ave happen to be in the same area as Vaeth's house, so it made stopping in rather convenient. Maurice, I wonder whatever happened to that guy, he was quite possibly the coolest manager ever.

Than there was the summer of 2004 and that is the summer that Bennett climbed out of the window. Now that I think about it Vaeth wasn't even there that night. He was out of town with his family, and Sue left Ross with the responsibility of supervising the house. So what does Ross do? Ross throws a freakin huge party. With the party starting to escalate in size, the likelihood of the cops coming seemed all but inevitable. With this in mind, Bennett kept referring to the option of climbing out of the basement window. Now, basement windows are typically not the biggest windows in a household and Bennett is typically not the smallest guy in a household. Several hours later though, the cops did show up, and sure enough Bennett climbed out the window. To this day, it still boggles my mind. Supposedly, someone at the party slipped a girl a roofie or something and that's why the cops came, but I think she probably just had a few too many drinks on her own.

There was another night that same summer, where Vaeth found a certain female friend that he took a particular liking too. After some time spent conversing with this female, she decided it would be a good idea to accompany him in his bedroom. Bennett and I were well aware of the shenanigans that were going on, so with the help of Shouldice and a screwdriver, we began some shenanigans of our own. The three of us ventured upstairs and began to dismantle Vaeth's doorknob. Once the doorknob was dismantled, we let off a barrage of bottle rocket's into the room. As one can quite possibly imagine, this somewhat interrupted the passion that was going on in the bedroom and Vaeth was quite enraged. I don't blame the kid, we blocked his cock, and paid no respect to general man code. Plus, we lit off fireworks in his house. He may still have a level of disregard for that night, but it's pretty memorable in my mind to say the least. Hopefully, one day he can forgive us.

I could probably write a book on the nights spent out on the deck and at the Vaeth household, but I won't. It would get kinda old after awhile, anyways. But over the course of six years, I've spent some quality time there. Quality time with good people and that is something that is hard to find.

I'm sure by this point, Andy, Damon, Ross, Vaeth, or anyone else who reads this blog from time to time, may be wondering why is the title referring too Vaeth's deck, but yet the picture, from Stacker's deck. I'm sure the thought "Well, it is Geilfuss..." ran through their mind, but I have a reason, and it's fairly valid. I scrolled through multiple pictures via Facebook of Andy, Vaeth, and myself and sadly found none of the deck. There were countless pictures taken in his house, but none with Vaeth in the picture. I didn't feel right, spending the whole entry, focused on his deck, without at least including a picture of the guy. Plus, we are on a deck in the picture, and everyone in that picture, enjoyed countless memories on Vaeth's deck as well, so thats about all folks.

A New Hope

Due to the emergence of some kid from Norfolk, there was nearly a sell out crowd at Camden Yards last night, and for the first time in over a decade there seems to actually be some Oriole magic. Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuke Scott went deep twice, becoming the first Oriole since Joey Belle to have consecutive games with more than one home run.

Upon my arrival at the pre-game hangout, which in all honesty is quite possibly the best place to have a beer in all of Baltimore, besides maybe the Kent when Jason and Pat are working, I saw Carroll and since at the time I was flying solo, I was quite pleased to see the man. Actually, I am always quite pleased to see Carroll, and supposedly his dog Jake is getting quite big, so I may have to pop down Bouldin Street one day and check in on the young mutt. Now, Jake isn't really a mutt, but I have a tendency to call all dogs mutt's and if you have a problem with that, well, good for you, I don't give a flying shit. Anyways, Carroll was in the same situation I was, in front of Sliders alone, waiting to meet up with the person who has the tickets. So, the two of us did what two people who are at Pickles or Sliders typically do. We drank beer. With the rain getting somewhat fierce, Carroll recommended a place called Quigley's, which was in the near vicinity of Pickles, and I'm quite glad he recommended the place because it's a nice little Irish pub, that everyone should check out at some point in their life. I most certainly will be back, they sell 40's of Natty Boh, how could one not go back? Eventually though, after a fine discussion with some guy in his living room, we left Quigley's and headed back towards Pickles. Bart and Perm and the guys with Carroll's tickets were all inside Pickles, and I would have liked to go in there, but, sadly, I left my ID at home and was forced to wandering back alone.

Wandering alone in a crowded place is usually not a fun thing, but as a result of my homemade Wieters jersey, I was able to make lots of friends and eventually Damon arrived. Of the friends I made yesterday, two were from Frederick, and they were most definitely an interesting pair. One was quiet and really resembled an alien and the other was just hideous and repulsive. Typically, if I describe someone as hideous, I would not need to use the word repulsive as well, but in this case, both words are needed. Nevertheless, these girls kept making promises of getting me Frederick Key's tickets and assuring Damon and I that Market Street on Friday night in Frederick is the place to be. Supposedly, the girl knew someone who bangs Matt Wieters or something and she can get free tickets, I'm not really sure, the whole time she was talking I was trying to figure out in which alien movie did the other girl play a lead role. I think it may be Mars Attacks.

After the game, we ended up walking down and sitting with McGrain and Katie, good people they are, I was all set to head to Canton for the night. Mary was even going to give Damon and I a ride there, but I than remembered that I had left my ID at home, and I'm glad I remembered outside at Pickles, cause had I have waited till we were close to Canton Square, I would most definitely be on Mary's shit list again and that just isn't necessary. I am a little sad I missed Canton though,Jamal was there, and I heard rumors that Julia was dancing and the combination of her dancing and Jamal is good enough for anyone to enjoy. However, I had to settle for a place where no legal form of identification is required, the Get Bent Lounge.

During my time spent wandering around the area of Pickle's and Sliders, I ran into a girl who I haven't seen in quite a long time. A period of several years, perhaps. Actually, now that I think about it the last time was Thanksgiving Eve 2007 at the Crease. Not to be confused with Thanksgiving Eve 2008, when Creech was running around the Kent screaming about how he wanted to finally achieve his lifelong goal of fucking a fat chick. That night she was with a girl named Jessica, who down the street from me when I was in middle school. None of that really matters, but it's Saturday, what else do I have to do but type? Anyways, back to the girl. After the typical exchange of hugs, hellos, and how are yous, she questioned me on whether or not I should be drinking. I was a little confused to this question, as every time I've ever seen this girl, it's been in a situation where drinking is the social norm, but than she brought up my brain and I realized her thought process. She said she saw some pictures via Faceshit and heard from a friend of a friend's cousin's boyfriend, that I was near death and would take months upon months to recover. The funny part is I didn't even know the guy who told her this. Rumors, there ridiculous.

Speaking of rumors, there is one going around that Jacquie is down to one of 20 finalists for a reality show on MTV. Now, if Jacquie were to get hand picked to be on the show, I would actually have to start watching reality tv. Booboo was explaining the basic guidelines and principles of the show to me the other night and to be honest it seemed absolutely horrendous. After her explanation, I knew why I had never heard of the show, but it made me realize one thing. The show definitely needs Jacquie, because Jacquie is awesome, and she would definitely make that show worth watching.

In Damon's last blog, he writes about the real Geilfuss versus the good Geilfuss. He makes some interesting points here and there. Damon usually does that. Make good points. Hes good at that kinda thing. Also at trivia. Anyways, I've included a link for anyone interested. http://www.thatbrotherfromhawaii.blogspot.com
Even if you don't give a shit about me, you should probably check out his blog, it's good stuff, especially if your a fan of Barack.


The Lakers won last night, advancing to the NBA Finals for the second straight year, and I am a little bit disappointed that the Nuggets couldn't pull off the upset. I really wanted to see the Birdman in the finals, but I guess I will have to wait. And the title of my blog, does refer to Kobe, so it may be destiny for the Lakers to win. I'm not really the biggest fan of Kobe, but the man can flat out ball, and he deserves a ring. They also have Pau Gasol and if the NBA were to have another lockout, he could probably get a job working as a caveman for Geico. They also have Adam Morrison and he cries.


I'm getting ready to head to Frederick for the day and it should be a good one. I'm going to be allowed to play with guns, and guns are a good thing. Everyone should have one. Plus, they make loud noises and have the ability to blow things up and thats kinda cool.

I Pity The Fool

Maybe it's just the outfit, but in my mind, there are some definite similarities between Jamal and one of America's greatest heroes, the legendary, Mr.T. Mr. T threw out the first pitch at the Cubs game this past weekend, and I must say if Jamal was the one jogging out to the mound in Wrigley, not many people would be able to tell the difference. The first pitch only helped with the validity of the statement, as the strength of Mr. T's left arm, seems to have diminished distinctly since his day's as Clubber Lang and a member of the A-Team. I feel well assured that Jamal could go southpaw for a moment and throw an equally as imposing pitch across the mound. Now, if somewhere around the third or fourth inning, Mr.T were to tell the finer members of the Cubs organization he had to "go home and walk his dog like a grown ass man" I may just admit defeat and proclaim that Mr. T and Jamal are one in the same.

Friday night a new era begins in Baltimore. The man proclaimed as "Mike Piazza with a throwing arm," will make his first start in an Orioles jersey, and I will most definitely be in attendance. I may even have to drastically reduce my time spent at Pickles or Sliders, to assure, that I am a witness of Matt Wieter's first official-at-bat. I know Stills will be in attendance with Damon, Dan, and Mary and that crew alone is one for the ages. Especially considering that in the past month or so I have moved up from not being allowed to say hello to Mary to being permitted to socialize with her as long as I am not embarrassing.

This is my 50th entry, and after 49 entries, it is about time my main man Mike Marozza finally merits some recognition. Without his help, I may have stayed in the Towson area this past Memorial Day Weekend, but thanks to Mike, I was able to pack my bags and travel east. Not only does the man have a nice lil condo within walking distance to the fabulous A.O., but the dude knows how to party, has his own business card, and does a good job of calming down his girlfriend just enough to where I can maintain my spot on the couch. Because, if it were up to his girlfriend, I would have been sleeping on the porch Sunday night, and even with the activities that went on this weekend, at no point in time, did Marozza's porch seem like a relaxing place to call it a night. To top things off, he should be in attendance at the O's game Friday and his mother makes a damn good pork tenderloin.

As I just mentioned this marks my 50th blog entry, so I give a thank you to all those who read it and find it somewhat amusing, it helps pass the time.

Going back to this weekend, there lives a man, in Ocean City, somewhere in the vicinity of 14th street and Coastal Highway, who probably thought to himself this past weekend. "Damn that kid, is having one hell of a weekend" as Andy probably darted across Coastal Highway carrying well over 150 beers throughout the course of the weekend. For some reason, Stills always happened to take the job as beer man, and deservedly so, because let's just say the man knows how to drink some beer.

The Time I Went Blind

As a result of finally accepting a job where I can fully function as a normal member of society and develop a regular routine, I finally have the luxury of enjoying the weekends and holidays to myself. With this weekend being Memorial Day Weekend, it seems that a vast amount of people travel eastbound and head towards the marvelous A.O. It is quite possible that I will join this overwhelming group of people at some point during the weekend and participate in some social activities in the lovely city famously known as Ocean City. Ocean City, Maryland that is, because in my near 24 years of life, I have yet to find something lovely to ever come out of New Jersey.

If I do eventually decide to venture eastwards, it will be the first time since late last August, where I have had the opportunity to visit Ocean City, and hopefully this trip will surpass the last one. While, there was nothing I truly regret from the last trip, it was a bit lackluster, something that trips to Ocean City should never be, and also featured a rather painful and frightening moment, that I hopefully will not face again in the near future or ever, for that matter.

For most of last summer, Bo Brooks owned my life, so taking a few days off for rest and relaxation, was somewhat of an obstacle. Working 6 days a week, will do that too a person. To make matters worse, Bo Brooks also owned the life of my roommate, as he too fell victim to this 6 night a week lifestyle. Nevertheless, after some distinct finagling, Creech and I managed to have consecutive days off. With this in mind, we packed into Jacquie's car and were soon on our way and as one can quite possibly imagine, throw Creech, Jacquie, and I into a situation where we will be together for a period of over several hours, and you should pretty much assume that alcohol is within arm's reach. Add in the fact that Smedium was manning the steering wheel and this is almost as much of a sure thing as betting on the team that J expects to lose. I don't exactly remember what kind of adult beverages were in the car, but lets just say the four of us never went thirsty, Kayta was with us as well.

After several hours of driving, we found ourselves at the home of some kid who found means of employment by dressing up in pirate's outfits and enjoyed taking shot after shot of cheap Kentucky bourbon. There was also an ugly little dog in the house, that resembled a rat. After several rounds of the cheap Kentucky bourbon, we were all on our way to a fine establishment whose sole source of income relies on serving their patrons alcohol. Shortly upon my arrival to this fine establishment, I was having quite a splendid time, Creech approached me and said we were leaving to go to a party. Supposedly, he ran into these two skeezers from high school and they lived right down the street and had a couple kegs. I liked the idea, so I decided to part ways with this establishment, and hop a cab. However, when the cab reached it's final destination, we also stopped at a 7-11 for munchies, I was somewhat confused. The final destination of the cab brought us to the same house with the dog that resembled a rat, and the guy who makes money because he dresses like a pirate. At this point Creech began to explain to me how he couldn't be alone for more than a moment and needed someone to pass out with or something like that, I stopped listening after a matter of seconds. To be honest, I should have known better, it was only month's before that he told me Booboo was having a wild rager, when in reality he just wanted to watch the Hills. Either way, I was quite disappointed that my one chance to visit an Ocean City bar ended so abruptly.

The next day had all the potential to be a classic. Once again, we knew that Smedium would be driving, so once again, the four of us had a car stocked full of fun. We were also going to Seacrets, and as everyone knows quite well, there are few places, that offer the luxuries of Seacrets. After finding a spot where the five of us could enjoy some of the finer aspects of daytime drinking, I was sent off to check out, the price of jet ski rentals. Now, this is where things started to go downhill. Somehow, and to this day I'm still quite confused to how this exactly happened, on the walk to the jet ski booth I developed a rather fierce eye irritation. Within seconds, my vision became blurry, my eyes became more bloodshot than those of Ricky Williams, and I began stumbling all over Seacrets. With the guidance of a reggae superstar, I was directed to the bathroom, where I spent the next several hours washing my eyes out with water to try and cease the irritation. Now, I think it is safe to assume, that the majority of people who read this blog have never had the experience that one gets when they are forced to spend hours rinsing out their eyes with tap water in an overcrowded public bathroom. I even had multiple conversations with the bar manager, assuring him that I was alright and did not require medical assistance. This task eventually became quite bothersome and I just decided to man up and live with the flaw. I soon found out that walking blind is far from easy as it took me nearly twenty minutes to re-locate my posse. I kind of found a new spot in my heart for Hellen Keller that day. Once I returned, the four of them all found this to be quite amusing. In all seriousness, I could have mistaken Kayta for Creech, and that alone should show you the seriousness of my problem, because Kayta is far better looking than Creech ever will be, but despite my struggles and constant pain, I remained the center of attention and the focus of everyone's entertainment. The rest of the afternoon, I spent walking back and forth between the bathroom and our seat, rinsing my eyes repeatedly. My vision did not return to 100% till we were almost back in Baltimore and to this day, I still do not know what caused this sudden retina irritation, but I gravely hope it will never occur again.

As for the likelihood, of me returning to Seacret's that's a given. I will be spending four days at the beach in mid July, and I don't know whether I should be more scared than excited, because with the cast of people I will be traveling with, excessive drama and trouble seems likely to follow. As for this weekend, who knows, I tend to not make plans and just go with the flow and if that flow directs me towards the great A.O. , so be it. I just know one thing for sure, if it does direct me that way, I will most definitely being hangin ten and ready to shred some killer waves.

Damon returns from the ATL

After a brief hiatus in good ol' Atlanta, Damon returned to Towson last night. Not to my surprise, shortly upon returning to the Towson area, I found him sitting in the corner of the Kent, paying vivid attention to the over/under of the Celtics game, and of course, mocking J for the ridicoulous comments that J tends to make. Now, for those of you who have not had the fortune of meeting J, well, first of all, thank god, and secondly, graze back through the history of my blog and find the one titled "The Drunk Liar who Makes better Predictions than Jay. " Many of you will probably lack the motivation to do this, so I will cut to the chase and help all of you lazy bastards out, if you ever get blacked out drunk and make incoherent drunken statements based on no level of knowledge whatsoever for the purpose of solely entertaining yourself, you have a greater chance of being correct with that statement than anything J says on any given moment. To be honest, if the Kent were to one day attract a customer with a high level of morales,a general concern for the thoughts of others, one who goes out of his way to help the homeless, and stand up for those who are often ridiculed, the type of person that the Kent typically does not attract, I can almost guarantee you, that after several minutes of listening to the claims coming from J's mouth, that man would be seated next to Damon, wagering on college football, ripping shots, and joining in on the mockery. Finally, before I stop my rambling on J, I will leave you with some financial advice. If you ever do happen to stop in at the Kent Lounge, and you hear someone proudly proclaim that they have "the lock of the century" immediately, scroll through your phone book, find the one contact in that phone book that may able to get into a contact with a bookie, deplete your entire bank account, and go big against whatever team is supposed to be "the lock of the century."

During my brief visit at the Kent last night, baseball somehow became the topic of conversation, particularly, the man who hit two grand slams in one inning. My initial thought was Carlos Baerga, but he just hit two homeruns from two different sides of the plate, a feat that definitely deserves its own merit. This question, led us to talk about the great Mark Whitten, who was the last player to hit four homeruns in one game, and even brought forth talk of Jeff Manto, who hit four homeruns in four consecutive at bats for the Baltimore Orioles in the mid 1990's. What I found interesting about Manto, is if you do a google image, of Baltimore Oriole Jeff Manto, you are more likely to find pictures of Jeff Garcia, Jeff Smardzia, Kevin Millar, and a heavy set African American woman named Manto, who happens to work as a minister somewhere. I even found pictures of the great Don Corleone, but never found one of Manto in an O's jersey. I found this as strange, because Manto's bat has found itself a place in Cooperstown, but yet, even with the help of Al Gore's greatest invention, the world wide web, one can not find a picture of Manto sporting an O's jersey. Oh, and for those of you who care, it was Fernando Tatis that had two grand slams in one inning.

God is great,
Beer is good,
and people are crazy.

The Girl Who Always Has Penis in Her Mouth

For the second time in less than a week, I decided to make a spur of a moment decision and head down to the Orioles game at the last minute. As of 6:30 P.M. I had all but settled in for the evening, when I experienced a revelation and decided that Camden Yards was a must for the evening. Well, maybe it was not so much as a revelation as it was a phone call telling me certain background checks had not been verified and I would have Wednesday off. Several minutes later, I'm pulling into the light rail station at Mt. Washington Tavern and flying solo towards downtown Baltimore.

Upon entering the station, I was slightly disappointed that I was not one of the first 10,000 fans over the age of 15 and would not be receiving a free Aubrey Huff t-shirt. Any player who throws aggressive fist bumps after taking Joba Chamberlain deep is a fan in my book, as Joba Chamberlain almost defines all that is wrong with the Evil Empire. Now, after flying solo on the light rail, I got to play another fun game, this time I was playing third wheel as I met up with Chris and Jen in the left field bleachers, that would also be the second time in less than a week that I played that game at the ballpark, although this one was far more jovial. Plus, anyone who knows Chris and Jen, knows that plenty of magic can occur at the Orioles game, not solely just Orioles magic, as it wasn't long ago that a Tejada jersey and a jumbotron started a little magic of their own. Since I left rather late, I boarded the light rail after the first pitch, I missed lot's of early offense on the Rays part,they put up five runs in the second and with each outing I'm beginning to believe more and more that Mark Hendrickson should have taken advantage of his tall frame and stuck to basketball, because the lanky southpaw is certainly no Randy Johnson on the mound. Nevertheless, as a result of 2nd inning shelling the Rays put on, I was able to catch the bottom of the second inning and watch Adam Jones prove that he is The Truth as he went deep for the second time and put the O's in front for good.

Several innings later I ventured away from the two lovebirds, and headed north to meet up with another group of people I knew that were in attendance. While this group may not have been as loving, they were certainly plenty entertaining. Although, at times it was a bit awkward, because one of the females I was sitting with doesn't go anywhere without a penis in her mouth, including Oriole games, and no, that is not a typo. So when your sitting with a girl who doesn't go anywhere without a penis in her mouth and her innocent disapproving sister, there tends to be a few awkward moments. Especially, when you throw in that penis girls, ex-boyfriend and his fraternity brothers are just two sections across to the left. However, I found several people in her vicinity that I could enjoy meaningful conversation with and watch the conclusion of the game, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised, when big George Sherrill came on in the 9th and actually did what a closer is supposed to do.

After the conclusion of the game, I went my separate ways from penis girl and her posse, and once again boarded the light rail, flying solo. With this in mind, I have ridden the light rail home from O's game on numerous occasions. Typically, these ride homes, I am with the companionship or others and am rocking a mild to heavy buzz, last night though, was far different. I was also dead sober. So being that I had no one to converse with, I played the role of the quiet listener, which almost proved to be as much fun. There were two dominating presences on the light rail, and I became a fan of one, and was not quite the biggest fan of the other. The first guy, made Ross and Smedium look like men of average height, which until last night I did not know was possible, unless you were a midget. But, it was more of attitude that impressed me. The little man, was running up and down the light rail, claiming to his buddies that he would get a cougar to have a drink with him at Mt. Washington Tavern and I gotta give it to him he did not lack the confidence as he approached every middle aged woman on the light rail and invited them to the Tavern, although he failed miserably. Despite every rejection though, he went up to the next middle aged women with more and more confidence, convinced that this was gonna be his cougar, even if she was sitting next to her husband. His effort was incredible and certainly merited recognition. He also was starting chants, made friends with a retarded guy, and convinced two large security guards to grab a beer at the Tavern. When he invited me to join in on the festivities, I was more than tempted to oblige, but I had other issues to take care of and had to reject the offer.

The second guy, the one I did not find as amusing, was the definite leader of the group he was with and posted lots of confidence with every remark he said, but it was the fact, that every remark he said was incorrect. He began by talking about how Ryan Zimmerman singled in the first inning to extend his hitting streak to 28 games, while in reality, Ryan Zimmerman singled in the first inning to extend his hit streak to 30 games. After that, he went on about how stupid Andy McPhail is for not trading Sherrill for Jack Cust and at this point I wanted to stand up from out of my seat and smack him in the face. Granted, Cust should be good for 30 dingers a year and Sherrill has his problems, but for starters I believe the Orioles have a pretty good right fielder, have plenty of left handed power, and don't really need a former Oriole who has never driven in 100 rbi's in a season, and strikes out more than Tyson, or myself for that matter when were blacked out and are trying to hit on women at the Kent. As soon as this clown finished his rant on Cust, he went on about how excited he was at the start of the WBC, he was rocking a Roberts USA jersey, when B-Rob was invited to the team, and assuming he was watching the same WBC the rest of the world was, Roberts only joined the team as a replacement after Dustin Pedoria fell victim to injury. To make matters worse, this jackass had his whole posse in awe of everything he was saying, as if was some sort of sport's genius. Idiots, there everywhere.


I just got a text from Jen, informing me that the little drunken punks, eventually started a fight with large African American trainers who worked at Merrit Athletic Club and got kicked out of the game. After reading the text, I almost wish I didn't join penis girl and her friends, because seeing these little idiots in their wife beaters talking smack to large African American men may have been equally if not more entertaining.

Throughout the time it took me to finish this entry, I have had a few phone calls and text messages from both Bobby and Booboo and if there are two more wiggin roommates out there, I certainly would like to meet them.

Game 7 of the Caps-Penguins series is tonight and it should be a classic. The series itself has been a battle, and I should be out somewhere rooting on Ovie and the Caps. Holla at yer boy.

Hippies Invade the Light Rail

First and foremost I gotta give it to my main man Perm, who proved to me on a block party in Canton Saturday, that he is a man of many talents. At some point during the evening he decided to do a little improv with the various songs being played and it was actually quite impressive. He even gave my blog a little free advertising, and next thing I know there is a man bigger than Bennett reading my blog on Corey's couch, and men bigger than Bennett do not come a long very often. After the impressive improv session, I found out that he has been coaching high school lacrosse and this came as a great surprise because when it came to sports I always thought Perm stuck to the Terps, Ravens, Orioles, and of course, his personal favorite, hogging.

After getting out of a job interview around 6:30 Friday evening, I had all but settled in and decided to pass up on the Orioles game and try and come up with other alternatives to spend my evening. However, as I was driving past York and Ridgely emotion took over me and my vehicle and the next thing I know I'm passing through a high school tailgate party and walking onto the light rail. As soon as I got close I saw Bill and Grace, not to be confused with Will and Grace from the horrendous 90's sitcom, and was soon on my way to the stadium. On the way down, some hippies from MICA hopped on the light rail, and while it didn't surprise me that hippies are a fan of public transportation, it did surprise me that they were fans of baseball. It also did not surprise me that upon their arrival, seats began to open up because of their distinct smell. I've noticed in life, that hippies tend to stray away from the standards of proper hygiene and therefore develop a smell that is quite repulsive. Andy and Damon used to even play trivia with the name "Hippies Smell" and nothing could be further from the truth.The whole time they were on the light rail, they ranted on about cultural revolutions, being free with their sexuality and style of dress, and the oppression of the government, and other ridiculous things like the need for a more peace loving environment friendly world. During this time, I just sat there with Bill going on and on about their distinct smell and awful dress. For some reason, I think one of them even had a strange attraction to me, as she insisted on sliding closer and closer and was apparently staring me down, but for some reason I do not find females with dreadlocks, and sweat stains attractive, so I managed to keep my distance. Eventually, we arrived at the stadium, and I soon found out that Booboo had failed to get me a ticket, despite claiming earlier that she would. After ignoring my phone calls through the game, I guess she finally felt it was right to call me, or she got enough alcohol in her system, and she had some bullshit excuse about how she wasn't in the ticket line she was just standing by it. Really, who just stands by the ticket line? It isn't that exciting, not that exciting at all. Nevertheless, I ended up overpaying for a ticket, they have this thing down the stadium, where they have the right to up the prices when the Yankees come to town, and it pisses me off,as a Baltimorean, I should not have to see a increase in tickets, just because thousands of collar popping, hair gel using, Yankee fans decide to make the journey down from New York and parts of jersey. So 5 innings into the game, I'm walking in to watch an overweight and overpaid lefty shut down the Orioles for the entire game,To make matters worse, Bill and Grace, decided to have relationship issues as soon as we walked in so, so I in turn had to become friends with the 60 year old man sitting next to me. But at least he provided some decent conversation.

Throughout the course of the game, I was keeping my eye out for Mary but she never popped up and I'm sure she's probably glad that happened. She tends to avoid me in social situations, especially where alcohol is involved, I have no idea why.

I try and take advantage of the fact that I own a pickup truck on a regular basis, to find secondary means of income that Uncle Sam is unaware of, so therefore, I routinely visit the Hunt Valley dump. It is far from the most lovely place, but it gets the job done, and their is an interesting pair of employees that work in the brush and shrub department there. They didn't bother me today, but once in the pastt I had an interesting run in with the duo. This occurred sometime last summer, when Creech and I were taking up residence in my parent's basement, because Smedium had failed to pay the BGE bill, and living in a house with no power in the middle of the summer especially with a roommate like Creech can be quite overwhelming. Nevertheless, the first member of this phenomenal duo, we have named Smeagol, because he resembles that crazy little character from Lord of the Rings who has an obsession with a golden ring, except Hunt Valley's version of Smeagol, is a little Mexican man who has way too much energy, and an obsession for not allowing one to drop things that are not brushes or shrubs in his area. From out of nowhere, Smeagol will come flailing his arms and legs, yelling at those who deposit some form of trash in his area, speaking the old Espanol at a very fast rate and literally confusing the whole out of you. While one is left wondering what the hell this little hyped up Mexican is saying, popping out from the piles of brushes and shrubs, will come The Enforcer. Now, until I had the fine chance to meet The Enforcer, I had no idea they made Mexican's that big. Now, the Enforcer is quite the opposite of his compadre, and just comes out walking slow, scaring the living shit out of you, and making slow gestures that get the point across. Either way, if your ever looking for a good time, dump something that doesn't belong in front of Smeagol, and just wait to see his reaction, and trust me it will be well worth it.

Zach Greinke lost his first game of the season Saturday night, despite allowing only one earned run in eight strong innings. The loss puts him at 6-1 with an E.R.A. of 0.51, with two shutouts and four complete games. He has straight up been a man amongst boys, and this comes just two year's after he had a mental breakdown. Incredible.

Cameron Diaz, Brett Favre, and a Retard

I tend to be a pretty easy going person and there are few things in life which really bother me. With this in mind, people who refuse to give the courtesy wave while out on the roads, gravely bother me. Seriously, is it that hard for someone to throw up a quick courtesy wave, when another driver takes time out of their day to give up their right away so you can go first? I just don't get it. The courtesy wave needs to be a way of life.


As of last night and even this afternoon there was every indication that Brett Favre would soon be a Minnesota Viking. However, these indications have come and gone and now the media, will probably be left pondering his next move. On a personal note, I think Favre should stay retired from the NFL. He owns basically every record there is for a quarterback, both good and bad, and set his career focus on new achievements. Can you imagine Brett Favre coming out next year not in the NFL, but in the AFL. If Favre were to play Arena Football, he could instantly demand a huge contract, compete for Chris Griesen's touchdown record of 117, and at least sell some tickets. And selling tickets is something that I'd imagine all AFL teams would probably like to do. After that, perhaps he could join the likes of Garth Brooks and Billy Crystal and get offered a spring training contract with the New York Yankees. Okay, at this point I'm beginning to stretch it a bit, but up to this point the man has proven he can basically do anything. He was great as a Packer, he was great in that movie with Cameron Diaz and a retard, he's great in those Levi commercials, and he would probably be great in the Arena Football League. Either way, it's just an idea.

Towson Town Fest and the Crease Gets Creepy

This past weekend was Towson Town fest and I think it nearly ruined my life. It was the first time in several months, quite possibly, even since the three of us lived together that I teamed up with both Creech and Smedium, and when you combine the three of us it is far from a terrific trio. Even Bob the Builder came out to completely ensure all members of the 600 Highland Avenue household were in attendance, and anytime Bob the Builder makes a public appearance, good times are bound to happen. All we needed was Lou to really light things off, although there were no covers to hide under as he was banging on the door, so it's probably good that didn't happen. There was this band called Amish Outlaws that was rocking out the beer garden, and they are quite possibly the greatest band I've ever seen. Anytime you can witness a band dressed in Amish attire rocking out to Baby Got Back, you know you must be having a good time, or you have been drinking heavily, one or the other is a true statement. Somewhere Sir-Mix-A-Lot should be proud. After the concert came to an end, things started to go downhill rather quickly, as we went barhopping throughout Towson. At one point we lost Smedium, only to find out he was taking a nap in my bed, I vanished from Fridays and due to every indication from my online banking it appears I found a Redbox Dvd although there is no movie in sight, and Creech tried to spend the night and make it to work in Calvert County, and with the night of fun he had, missing work was all but unavoidable.

I was at the Towson Town fest for a minute on Saturday as well although Saturday was far from as eventful. I did get dared by Smedium and Allie though to dance with a rather large woman with no teeth for two free beers and felt the desire to oblige. Although when she leaned in for a make out session my dancing days were over. But, I did get two free beers and two free beers is well, two free beers.

While visiting Planet Fitness yesterday evening, I noticed that they have signs across the gym encouraging Monday night as pizza night, and that just kind of confused me. Now while I am a huge fan of eating pizza, in fact I probably am about to do so, I would never have expected a gym to encourage such a thing. Could you ever imagine walking into a bar and seeing signs posted for a chips and soda night? Probably not. I figure there kinda on the same lines.

The idea of a chips and soda night at a bar, brings me back a few years. Several years ago, I was out and about the Towson area, barhopping with Corey and we decided to venture over to the Crease. Upon our arrival, there were parents sitting at tables with Krispy Kreme Doughnuts and chips and dip. Beyond the parents, there was a large group of kids that seemed to be no older than sixteen dancing away. Well you might have been able to call it dancing, it was an attempt. In all honesty, I could have gotten out on that dance floor, shown off my moves, and the girls would have probably flocked to me, cause I was lighting up the dance floor compared to what is out there, and that is a bold statement. A very bold statement. Because farm boys in Iowa, probably have better dance moves than I do. But call Corey I guarantee you everything I have just said is true. It was by far one of the creepiest things, I have ever seen upon walking into a bar. Needless to say, the two of us did not stick around and soon were on our way elsewhere.

Did anyone watch the Caps-Penguins game last night and honestly not utter these exact words? Alex Fuckin Ovechkin!

There are Few Things I Know In Life, But This Is One

When Derrick Rose stepped to the foul line last night, did anyone else have flashbacks to the NCAA championship when Rose and CDR consistently missed crucial free throw after crucial free throw and basically handed Kansas the national championship? Now, I don't know what the spread was last night, but it's quite possible that Rose once again pissed off degenerate gamblers across the nation last night. Either way, the series is really one for the ages, and I am still kinda mystified as to how he recovered enough to block Rondo's shot in the final seconds. Game 7 should be a classic. I'm going with the Celtic's though, at least to pull off the W.

Tomorrow, Alexander the Great and Sid the Kid, begin battle. While, we have just witnessed what may be one of the greatest opening rounds to the NBA playoffs, this series should do the very same for the NHL. We have the three greatest players in the NHL, squaring off in the second round, and it should provide for some pretty entertaining hockey to say the least. This could very well be the most entertaining hockey series since the late 90's, when the Colorado Avalanche and Detroit Red Wings were battling it on a frequent basis. Gotta love some Claude Lemieux action.

I got one of those stupid little survey questions via Facebook from Damon today, asking me if I was worried about this whole swine flu epidemic that is spreading across the nation. I clicked no, and was soon on my way. And in all serious, I truthfully have more concern about whether or not the Orioles win tonight or when we will eventually rock out a large group to the laser tag facility me and Steve discovered this week, than the swine flu. I'm sorry if that makes me sound like a unconcerned asshole, but it's the honest to god truth.

This is probably one of my least interesting entries I have put forth in a while, but there's comes a time when you are going to have that. Now,there are a few things I know in life, and there are a few things I know when it comes to those who read my blog. I know there are avid readers who follow my blog on a regular basis, and to those who do good for you. I also realize there are others who tend to read my blog on a far less regular basis. Chances are they take a glimpse at the title, the opening picture, or just scroll up and down looking for their name or one of their freind's name and than just read that paragraph. Now, I have no problem with these people, in fact I am probably a huge fan of all of them. But, as I previously mentioned, there are few things I know in life and I am about to tell all of you on of those things. There is no reason, whatsoever, that there should be a picture today on my blog of a topless Matthew McConaughey. But I can guarantee you one thing, and that one thing is about one of my readers. When Creech, logged onto the internet and took a glimpse at my blog today, he read the entire blog, top to bottom. Even if he did just speed read through the whole entry, he definitely viewed it top to bottom because a topless Matthew McConaughey was the featured picture. That is all.