Posted by todd
Fri, 16 Dec 2005 04:45:00 GMT
Change is a difficult thing for most people.
Just to be clear: I'm talking about life change.. not quarters and pennies.. that stuff sucks and is all over my apartment. Damn pockets.
Look, I'm a busy guy, I don't have time for all this "counting change", and "not letting my cat eat dimes" stuff. If cats weren't supposed to eat dimes, they wouldn't be shiny. I treat the floor like a savings account.
Fucking cats.
ANYWAY, Change is difficult.
It's because no matter how much of a rock star you THINK you are, at the end of the day, you do the same things all the time. Most of the time life is a rut, and we like it that way.
So, as you may have noticed from my disappearance, preeeeetymuch everything in my day to day life has been modified in the last few months.
The point of this story is, starting a new job, and 3 days later being shipped out all over the east coast, is a lot of change. It's also a lot of expense reports, and pretending you know what the hell it is your new company does after 3 days. Oh yeah, and hating cops.. fuck cops. (Yay for having an anonymous'ish blog!)
The trip involved Baltimore and Annapolis MD, Charlottesville VA, and Ft. Lauderdale FL. They were all vaguely interesting places, but they all have problems as well.
If you watch the news, you may have noticed that airplanes are dropping out of the sky like goddamn raindrops. I seem to have missed all the excitement by about one day. Every time I got into an airport, I watched on TV some bad thing happening in another airport. Luckily, I know statistics... if something bad is happening in ONE airport, the chances of things happening in TWO airports at the same time is unlikely. Right?
That's why I'm always strapped when I fly. (Attention FBI: This is a joke)
Literally every airport I was in had some issue. In Charlottesville, they closed the airport due to snow. It should be pointed out that it wasn't snowing. After pressing the point with the airport people, they let me in on a secret that you might want to know about. The Charlottesville airport has NO FUCKING GROUND RADAR. Basically this means that they can't land airplanes there if it's CLOUDY.
I asked them where I could rent a horse and buggy to take me to another airport, and got a bronco. A few hours later I flew out of Richmond.
Ft. Lauderdale was actually very nice, other than the fact that it had no live trees left due to the hurricane. My hotel room at the Westin Diplomat was seriously bigger than my apartment. So at the end of the trip it was like a little vacation.
I sat out by the pool with my laptop and drank fruity drinks and looked at the woman.
That wasn't a typo.
There was only one attractive woman in Ft. Lauderdale as far as I'm aware. Everyone else was old and fat. Apparently San Diego has ruined me, so I'm stuck here now.
Happy New year!
T
Posted in Travel | Tags annapolis, baltimore, busy guy, charlottesville, Ft. Lauderdale, new job, radar | no comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 08 Oct 2005 16:42:00 GMT
Part 1 in a multipart series.
I'd never been to Arkansas. It's shocking, given how culturally diverse and metropolitan the state is known to be. There is a first time for everything.
Hello from Eureka Springs, Arkansas! Population 2,032. Don't you wonder how often they update that sign?
Now, a valid question would be "Todd, why the hell are you in Arkansas?". In fact I asked myself that very question as I was driving past the 47th group of cows on the way from the airport to the town. The closest airport was 50 miles.
The answer is simple, a hot girl asked me to come.
The trip was made largely to hang out with my old roommate, who is a bridesmaid in the wedding. Her now ex-boyfriend/date turned out to be pre-occupied with...well.. being married with 2 kids that she didn't know about, so I volunteered to stand in. (Oh yeah! She found this out using Google, which returned his home phone number, which in turn was answered by his wife. Sounds familiar eh?)
This is where being single really has it's benefits. See, I might be a busy guy.. not having time for all this "cleaning", and "doing laundry" stuff, but you have to have your priorities straight. A gathering full of women dressed to kill and drinking heavily, where I share a room with a bridesmaid?
I've had worse weekend plans.
So after sprinting across the Houston Airport to make a connection, I hit the ground in Fayetville, Arkansas. Brides Maid was off at the rehearsal dinner, so I drove into town and went exploring. Donning the local attire (Jeans and a baseball hat), it was pretty easy to blend in, and the locals seemed pretty talkative.
Christ there's only 2000 of them, they better be up for making new friends.
The first two bars I went into were nice, but fairly emtpy. Actually they may have been full, it was difficult to tell through the smoke. It was clear that I had not found the right place... in a new town, you have to find the locals.
It was like a game of Where's Waldo, but with long hair and beards. Leather was also very popular.
Anyway. Having traveled alone before, I knew the secret to becoming a local in 2 hours flat: Make friends with the bartenders, preferably female ones.
Luckily, this is a skill of mine.
See, a bartender is just doing their job. They don't really want to be there. They want to be somewhere else... generally, at another bar full of crazy service industry people. This is the bar you must find.
Seems easy right? Well, it can be, but there are a few rules to keep in mind.
#1: Make sure the bartender *really* likes you. These people are paid to be nice. They are
not paid to send some asshole to their favorite bar. Read them wrong and you might wind up in a place that favors leather chaps.
#2: Get multiple opinions. You need a sample size greater than 1. Look, everyone has a favorite bar... but some people have really poor taste. You want to bar hop to a few places, and ideally have two unrelated bartenders (difficult in Eureka), tell you the same thing.
After a few hours, I divined that "Chelsea's" was the place I needed to be. Walking in, it reminded me of a place called the "Copper Coin" where I went to college, but with even more hicks. A folk band was playing, so Michelobe Light in hand, sat down at a table and watched the crowd.
It only took a few minutes and the rest of the table was overtaken by various oddballs, including Kathy. Kathy was older, and a librarian. Can you imagine a less interesting job than being a librarian in a town that size? Still, she was entertaining to talk to.
Turns out, tonight was the FIRST time she had seen the destruction of New Orleans on television. She didn't have one, and apparently didn't get out much. WHY she didn't get out much I'm not sure, because when we started talking about storms it became clear that there was little difference between being out, or in, where she lived.
We talked about ice storms, and I swear she actually said this: "Losing electricity would be bad for me, since I only have electric heat. I use one of those plug in heaters. I guess one good thing would be that the pipes wouldn't freeze. I just carry in water."
.......
........
.........
YOU WHAT!
The woman had no running water in her house.
At that point I stopped asking questions, and went off to find Brides Maid. The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful.
Next up: Tie hunting. More Locals. Tips for Airline CEO's.
Posted in Travel | Tags arkansas, being a local, charity, drinking, weddings | 7 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 28 Jul 2005 21:09:00 GMT
AKA: Bachelor Todd goes to Raleigh.
I flew back from Raleigh NC for a few days to attend a wedding, a going away party, and to talk to a guy about funding my company. One of these kids is doing their own thing, one off these kids, are not the same.
Now, there's something about going on a 3 day drinking binge and then attending an important meeting that really takes me back to the old days. Sometimes it's good to go home.
Yes, I know. At 30 years old people are supposed to be responsible adults, and not be out until 3am when they have things to do in the morning. In this case though, it was perfect. You see, drinking gives guys two things: bullshitting skills and confidence. What better way to prepare?
Unfortunately these things don't stay in your system or I'd be Bill Gates by now.
The rest of the weekend consisted of explaining to 100 different people how things were going in San Diego, combined with absurd amounts of alcohol. Add a bunch of people who grew up together, and it's comedy waiting to happen.
When guys get drinking the way we were drinking, things happen. Nonsensical things. How it started has dissappeared from my mind, but late at night my buddy Paul claimed that he could smash the hotels TV remote control in half using only his head.... if he wanted to.
What kind of friends would let such a claim slide without attempting for half an hour to peer pressure him into doing it? What kind of friend wouldn't offer up 20 bucks if he succeeded?
In the end we left, after the first call from the front desk warning us to shut up. The negotiations were still ongoing. As we walked out the door someone (Al) got tired of waiting and threw it at the door behind us.
We really are a classy bunch. You can take the boy out of Erie, but you can't take the Erie out of the boy.
Posted in Girlfriends, Travel | 2 comments | 69 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 02 Jun 2005 18:06:00 GMT
Today, we are going to address a common guy pastime, camping.
Growing up, my friends and I spent a lot of time camping. Mostly as an excuse to go drink lots of beer in the woods away from the cops.
Don't get me wrong, the cops still came, but drunk kids have a serious advantage over police in the woods. The ability to run without flashlights. See, when police come into the woods to break up a party, they don't know where the hell they are going. You can spot them from half a mile away and split. Home field advantage at it's finest.
Not to mention, we had far more reason not to be caught than they had to catch us. I have had to run from the police at least a dozen times, and have never been in a cop car. (Note: My younger brother Drew could learn a few things here... He *always* gets caught.)
Memorial weekend however, involved no police. Just myself, a girl, a fifth of tequila, beer, my jeep, and a surfboard. While the surfboard turned out to be unnecessary, you never know! I don't get to the desert much. Plus, I was way to lazy to take it off my car before we left.
Camping on the west coast is significantly different than camping on the east coast. First of all, to my knowledge, there are no cops. In fact, if anything bad happened and you actually NEEDED a cop.......Well... There ain't no law around here lawdog. Second, it's BIG. I now realize why there are a lot of holes in the desert, and a lot of problems buried in those holes. (Ok, that's enough movie lines for one story.)
My kinda place.
It's also a bit different camping in the desert. For instance, in the woods, giant windstorms don't kick up and fill your tent with dirt. Woods also have a distinct lack of army ants, scorpions, and small things that look like weeds but fill your fingers with needles when you grab a bunch of them to start a fire with. (Not that anyone would ever be stupid enough to do such a thing).
Desert camping is a great time, once we had everything situated, and had removed the majority of the spines from my hands, we got down to business. I love business.
In this case, the business included burning things, taunting a coyote, and drinking tequila straight from the bottle. I've never been a fan of tequila, but I have to say, it is *much* better straight from the bottle and without the salt and lime. You don't have a pre-set amount that you must consume... you don't make a mess with sticky lemons... and really, after 3 or 4 slugs of tequila you don't care anymore.
If you go to REI, or any other sporting goods store, you would be led to believe that there are other essential camping items than those described above. This is categorically untrue. You do not need pots, or sammich makers, or burts freaking beez (although it's pretty good stuff). You *certainly* do not need a backpack with an exoskeleton that would make Wolverine proud. Throw all these things away, and pack more flammable materials.
There is one exception to this rule.
You need a vehicle to sleep in when your tent blows down.
And maybe more alcohol.
And some guns to shoot when you get really drunk. (We forgot this step)
PS: If you want to see some pictures from the trip, and a few random others, go here:
Camping Pictures
Posted in Girlfriends, Travel | 1 comment | 70 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Mon, 10 Jan 2005 20:48:51 GMT
AKA: The Bum Says, "Hey buddy, shoot me! Just SHOOT ME!"
Today I met a nice man on the street who was driven over the edge by David Spade sitcoms. When will the madness end? Unfortunately for Mr. Crazyguy I was weaponless and in a hurry, so I had no time to help him out. I had an apartment to find.
Once again I'm moving! I've decided to move into the heart of downtown San Diego, the Gaslamp. You see, as a single man my only requirements are food, alcohol, and women all within walking distance; not in that order. In my current place I was *this* close, but with one fatal error; The majority of the women in the neighborhood preferred each other over me. Not that I blame them, I prefer them too.
This time, I'm shooting for the trifecta. The Gaslamp Quarter is as metropolitan as San Diego gets, chock full of resteraunts, bars, and women drinking martinis (which we have discussed before).
Secretly, I'm moving downtown because I am a lazy, lazy man. I don't have the motivation for all this "going places" and "leaving my neighborhood". If I want a beer, I want to walk across the street and have a beer. You can't get a DUI while walking.
Like many things, urban living is an acquired taste. A few years back I almost moved to NYC, and I was up checking out the area. The limo driver who was taking us around sums it up best.
John the Limo Driver was clearly a true Brooklyn guy, and he had the accent to prove it. My buddy was trying to convince me to move up there, and asked John to tell me to leave North Carolina. John said: (imagine heavy Brooklyn accent) "Well Tad, it's just a matter of what you like, crickets or cah-horns. I went down to North Carolina once and stayed at one of those fancy bed and breakfasts. All night long all I heard was cricket cricket cricket, cricket cricket cricket... I couldn't fuckin sleep! With cah-horns I don't even wake up." Stellar advice.
These days I prefer cah-horns. If some guy is hiding in my apartment with a cah-horn, I'll find the bastard.
Crickets are sneaky.
Posted in Travel, San Diego Nutjobs. | 1 comment | no trackbacks
