Monday, August 29, 2005

Oh The Irony

I think it seems quite strange that in the last week I've uprooted myself and driven 1500 miles across the country towing a UHaul trailer with my entire life stuffed inside to a state that I've had an undeniable rivalry with over the last year. Yes, I moved to Michigan. Land of the Wolverines. Not only do I live in Michigan but I am one hour away from Detroit. And my residence address is in Ann Arbor. It really is ironic to me that I somehow ended up in a state where both my favorite college football team and my favorite NBA team have managed to pull through and kick these northerner's asses. It makes me very proud to drive my little car around Ann Arbor showing off my Texas license plates. Damn straight, my state is better than your state. We have two champion teams. So take that... and don't key my car.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Tattoos and Greeting Messages

Melissa had already come to the conclusion and quickly convinced me that the two worst things a guy can do are 1) have a bad tattoo and 2) have a bad greeting message on his phone.
A bad tattoo is of course up to our discretion (and so is the greeting message I suppose). But tattoos, you can tell the difference between the well thought out meaningful tattoo and the 'shit I'm wasted a tattoo sounds like the best idea I've ever had' tattoo. Worst tattoo ideas are as follows. 1) Anything with a symbol that screams 'I was drunk'. I don't care if it does mean strength and honor, it's stupid. Chances are you aren't so quit trying to act it. 2) Your greek fraternity letters. You were branded for four years of your life already so why drag it out. If you went to a school like mine you name was always preceded by 'I think she was a enter greek affiliation here'. Why drag it out for the rest of your life? The damage is already done. 3) Designing a tattoo that makes a play on your name. For this I have a real live example. Well I have live examples for all of them so here it goes.
We once knew this guy names Joey. He was a diver for the US Navy. When we first met him we thought it was cute and started calling him Scuba Joe. It wasn't until we were swimming one day that we noticed we weren't the first to come up with that connection. On his shoulder was a horrific tattoo. It was a baby kangaroo ( a joey) dressed in full on scuba gear, complete with the flippers. 'Nuff said. I have to go puke.
Greek letters. I wouldn't be surprised if that was a Hell Week ritual. Maybe it means you are all blood brothers now. Even if you met the dumbest jackass in the world, you still had to be friends because around your ankle you had the same letters. Bottom line, maybe they were the best years of your life (if you can remember them) but you'll grow out of it. Trust me. And that ink is forever.
Ok, final example. The 'I was drunk' tattoo. I was playing disc golf one day and a guy in the group ahead of us peeled off his shirt. Oh man, it was bad. Spread across his shoulders was an awful Celtic design of something that probably should have resembled a bird. Not to mention he didn't really have the best set of shoulders on which to show that off.
Take home story is that you never get a tattoo when you're drunk (even if it makes you feel tougher), no greek letters- I don't need to know the letters of the group where you hung out every night drunk and stoned, and never make a play on your name- it's fine the way it is in letters, it doesn't need animation.
And remember, bad tattoos can happen to good people. Your best bet is to have your design checked out by myself or Melissa before the inking begins. Haha!

to be continued...

Friday, August 05, 2005

The Best Kind of Family

It's amazing how much the word 'family' lets you get away with. Currently, I am halfway around the world (New Zealand to be exact) visiting and staying with a part of my family who I've seen a total of maybe 10 times. Yet, as is done with my immediate family as well as friends, we spend most of our time poking fun at eachother. Now, I'm not sure how it works out, but these people are almost literal strangers to me. I know my dog better than them! (that's not a diss by any means, just a truthful observation) But for some reason because we are 'family' we transcend the akward 'hi, how are you' and 'what do you like to do' introduction mumbo jumbo and get straight to the down and dirty making fun of eachother.
My granny is the short lady with ginormous boobs (don't know how I lost out on that one) and bunks with the ubiquitous Mr. Jones. Who some people in her neighborhood think is her 'new man'. But if they knew her any better they'd know that Mr. Jones is really her 13 year old scottie who's only thrill in life is to 'widdle' on the floor the second you let him in the door. No matter that you've just spent the last 10 minutes pleading with the dumb dog to do his business out in the fresh air where you don't have to clean it up.
My uncle, I'm sure, thinks that we're all raging alcoholics. Mainly because every meal revolves around beer or several bottles of wine for us. Yesterday my Dad handed me a glass of red just as I was brandishing a very large and sharp knife with which I was going to cut up the salad. Along with handing me the glass, Dad also said 'No one in this family (that's my immediate family) cooks without a glass of wine!". I gladly accepted, giggling how one glass of wine can get me drunk. I paid no attention to my uncle who's eyes were darting back and forth between the wine and knife and who's face had certainly turned a whiter shade of pale as I announced my lacking tolerance.
My aunt really enjoys us being here. It lets her be silly and really get away with it. She's a riot. She's got that subtle English humor that's so hard to catch but hysterical if you know what to listen for. The best is when she brings up stories about my dad (he's her older brother) when they were younger. For example, things like when Dad used to sneak out of his room once his parent's party was over and done with and drink what was left over in the wine bottles. He was 10. A love for wine runs deeply in this family- as you can very well tell.
Overall, I think family is great. But the family across the world is the best. It gives you a chance to do things you aren't normally allowed to do. Make fun of and boss around total strangers- without the fear of getting pummelled in the face.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Practice What You Preach

On my way to my friend's house, I noticed that if I didn't stop for gas that that very moment, I'd be stranded on the side of Slaughter Lane in the midst of rush hour (ie, not fun). So I pull into a Diamond Shamrock and start pumping gas, realizing that my credit card was getting raped by the price per gallon and there was nothing I could do about it.
As I was fuming over that fact, a ugly green minivan pulled to the pump across from me. In huge thick black letters was the ad slogan 'ASK ME HOW TO LOSE WEIGHT!!!!' (I think there were even more exclamation points than that but I can't bring myself to put them all in there). Now, I know there's nothing interesting about that phrase but then, the driver door opened and out stepped... a woman, who I am not kidding, was at least 400 pounds. Please tell me, who in their right mind would ever approach her and ask about losing weight?! 'Nuff said.
At this point, the gas pump clicked telling me my tank was full and my wallet empty so I placed the nozzle back and stepped into my car with an extremely puzzled and amused look on my face. The only thing running through my mind: 'I hope she keeps her day job'.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

The Opening Paragraph

So, I've been convinced by my very persuasive friend that I should give 'blogging' a try. I hadn't really even heard of it until my persuasive friend sent me a link to one of her friend's pages. To tell you the truth, I haven't laughed that hard at someone's writing in a long time, or been so impressed. It was awesome... but it also scared the shit out of me because after reading his there was a pressure to be a good writer. Something I don't really consider myself to be. But after several sleepless nights and intense counseling sessions that blogging may be what's missing in my life (or maybe it was just a slow day at work and frankly, I got bored) I decided to throw in the anti-blogging towel and give this sucker a shot. Don't expect anything great or even frequent updates. But you can expect that every word is a product of blood, sweat, and tears. I think I could very well become addicted to this thing called blogging.