'Tis The Season...

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

this time of year makes me seriously consider changing the name of this site to www.isweatBEER.com, because as far as beer seasons go, summer absolutely takes the cake.

there is something about the fantastic brews of summer, that even now, while it's still 40 degrees out, that makes it feel like summer is here and in full effect. today i got my first dose of summer with a delicious case of saranac summer brews. i look forward to this day, regardless of the actual date, all year round. there is something about summer ale's, belgian white's and hefeweizen's that just scream "summer is here!"

i'm sure that much of it goes back to my days in atlantic city when the appearance of these brews, especially the belgian white's, meant that i'd be getting some serious beach time; most likely after getting a serious hangover from a long night at the wonder bar. but even now, some 3 hours away from the nearest fleck of sand, they scream to me the same.

or maybe it's the memories of drinking pete's wicked rally cap ale on the beach on cape cod, before an awesome dinner of clams on the half shell, oysters and shrimp cocktail; before settling on the cozy lawn of a friend's summer place in ipswich, drinking and smoking the night away next to a bonfire.

or maybe, just maybe, it goes back to a summerhouse on the jersey shore drinking sam adams summer ale with a slice of lemon on the deck, talking about life in general.

whatever it is, the beers of summer bring back many memories that i'll never be able to forget. one sip, the scent, the spoken name of the beers of summer will forever bring back cherished memories and i am indeed grateful.

cheers! (with my saranac summer ale in hand!)

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WANTED: Four Kilos...

Monday, April 28, 2008

i just saw a buttload of kilos of cocaine being yanked out of an suv's tires on the news, 4 kilos per tire. it got me thinking, 'those friggin bricks are huge.' never having been a drug dealer myself, i was unaware of exactly how much a 'kilo' actually weighed. (for the record, google says it's 2.2 lbs.) so i continued thinking, if i could have 4 kilos of anything random, what would i want 4 kilos of? after a few short seconds, i came to a conclusion. i would want a 1 kilo brick of each of the following:
1- cool ranch powder. you know, the seasoning powder that comes on cool ranch doritos, because i've always licked it all off before eating the chips, and i figure if i had a brick of the powder then i could save on the calories of the chips.
2- vinegar powder. same deal as the cool ranch doritos, i love that powder that comes on salt & vinegar potato chips too! give it.
3- cherry fundip. you know the stuff, kid's crack. that sweet sugary powder that came with the candy stick that you licked, dipped and then licked again? oh man, give it to me.
4- jamaican blue mountain coffee. the only coffee in the world, that i have ever happily drank black. this jamaican wonder has the most unique flavor all on it's own, and actually gets ruined with sugar and cream. unsurprisingly, green mountain has a delicious one. it's price is what would make me want a free kilo from somebody's tire!

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Honesty As A Necessity...

avoid the need to add this stamp to your daily repertoire with one easy step: honesty.

i've seen a recurring theme lately in conversations with several of my friends, one of which i witnessed pretty closely this weekend. i've always attempted to keep myself from having issues with honesty, and i do my best to keep my nose clean in that department. it's just a miserable situation when you find yourself caught up in lie after lie. some people, i find, get so tied up in lies, that they forget where one lie ends and another begins; while others i know have lied about things for so long that they have accepted it as the truth.

honesty is a huge part of life, and more specifically in relationships. and i'm not just talking about relationships with significant others, or friends, but even in the relationship that you develop with the bank teller during your 60 second interaction. honesty and integrity is present in every interaction, every time; whether you realize it or not. in fact, i consider it to be a necessity. i've always had the uncanny ability, along with my friend mike, to find out EVERYTHING about anything if i need to; which in turn has taught me to smell a liar from a mile away.

i have always thought myself to be a fairly honest person, even by society's standards. but what society considers honest and what true honesty really is, are two separate things. we've been systematically taught in our culture to make lying a part of our lives. like i said before, and we all know someone like this, some do it so often that we don't even notice it anymore.

honesty is telling "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth;” but somehow society's definition has become skewed to say that honesty is to tell the truth only if it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable, doesn't cause a conflict, and/or makes you look good.

i'm not even talking about the big lies, but more about the consistent, persistent "lies of omission" and "white lies" that get told on a daily basis. for me, i didn't even consider these small untruths to be lies until i experienced the exact opposite- the whole truth.

i haven't always realized my dishonesty and how much of myself i held back when being dishonest. this dishonesty caused me to feel disconnected from others and created small walls in my relationships. when i withheld my whole truth, i withheld others from seeing all of me. this may be fine in some relationships, but not in ones where you want all of yourself to be loved, even those parts that you may judge yourself as bad or wrong.

eventually i realized that if i wanted to be fully accepted, i was going to have to let others see all of me. this can be very scary, because what if it made others angry, or hurt, or caused others to decide that "all of me" was not something that they wanted to be a part of? but then i remembered, what kind of relationships would i have if my friends only knew part of me? i've wrote before about 'secrets,' but there are very few secrets that i keep from others, most i just keep from myself...

i'm glad that i've consciously chosen the path of honesty and integrity. unfortunately, the people that need to read this, that i really wrote this 'for,' are too busy or just don't care to read it. they even lie to themselves, telling themselves that they too are honest. they'll realize someday, hopefully before it's too late.

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The Wingman...

Saturday, April 26, 2008


i'm sure i'll have some interesting stories after tonight's outing; which should be incredibly interesting. apparently i 'owe' dubbz for the 'wedding date occurrence.' plus, she says she needs me for 'moral support.' moral? me? ha.


and for those of you that are unaware:

Wingman

A Wingman is a guy you bring along with you on singles
outings (like to bars) that helps you out with the women.

Typically in these ways :
• The Wingman will always be there to “occupy” least
attractive girl of the pair so that you may engage in the “hotty”
• Often, when an attractive girl is out with an ugly friend, she often feels restricted to not leave that ugly friend alone, thus making the hot girl, un-touchable.
• When the wingman technique is used, both girls are
approached by the men, and the Wingman automatically
engages in conversation with the ugly girl.
• Now that the hot friend sees that the ugly girl has finally found a man, she is now free to start scouting.
• This is where you come in “unexpectidly” and “accidentaly”, and begin catching up on “old times” with the Wingman.
• The Wingman then offers the ugly girl to dance, (which
rarley happens to her) so she wont be able to resist.

Two situations may arise:
1.) She tells her hot friend to come along, in which you
automatically MUST be invited, since you know the
Wingman, and have already been introduced to the hotty.
2.) They go dance, leaving you and the hotty in for
some solid face time.
• At the end of the night, after you have worked your
magic, the Wingman, AND ONLY THE WINGMAN, offers
the girls to comeback to his place for a little ‘after party’.
• Once everyone arrives, the Wingman “occupies” the
ugly girl IN ANOTHER ROOM, leaving yourself and the
sweet sweet little hotty alone so that you can bang her, bang her like a drum....

Important note: Keep in mind that a wingman
should never be too inexperienced or he will hold
you back…the Wingman should always be of equal
or greater knowledge then you.

Learning and practiceing the Wingman support system
is an unbelievable asset if done right. Your wingman is
an invaluable assistant for you so don't underestimate
the value of finding a Wingman that can work with you.
"Hey Buddy, are you gonna be my Wingman tonight?"

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Pvt. Ron Harrison...

Friday, April 25, 2008

i got the unfortunate news today that someone that i went to high school with was killed in iraq. i've had this weird pit in the bottom of my stomach, ever since hearing the news.

i remember when my good friend scott went away to marine boot camp, and having the strange and uncomfortable feeling that something could happen to him; and wondering if i could remember the date of the last time i had seen him, or the last thing that i had said to him. luckily, he was never deployed (knock on wood), and is still at home, safe and sound. or the time that i reconnected with another friend from high school, also named ron, that was deployed in iraq for some time. i reconnected with him on myspace, and prior to that couldn't remember the last time that i had seen or heard from him, since we had won the county little league championships so many years before.

tonight's news was no easier than hearing that my best friend had died in the war; and i only knew ron in passing in high school. we were never close friends, merely acquaintances. yet the feeling has been so overwhelming today. i suppose that i am lucky that in a war that has lasted as long as this, and with number of casualties, that this is the first time i've had this terrible feeling.

my thoughts and prayers go out to ron and his family. THANK YOU for your service to our country and for keeping us free.

Morris County soldier dies in Iraq

"A soldier from Morris County on his first deployment to Iraq has died of a non-combat injury, according to the Department of Defense.
Pvt. Ronald R. Harrison, 25, of Morris Plains, died Monday at Forward Operating Base Falcon near Baghdad.

Harrison was a Bradley fighting vehicle mechanic assigned to the 703rd Brigade Support Battalion, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Ga., said Kevin Larson, a Fort Stewart spokesperson.

Harrison was sent to Iraq in January 2007 on a 15-month deployment, Larson said. Harrison joined the Army in September 2005.

The Defense Department said the incident is under investigation and no further details were released.

Raised in West Milford, he attended Boonton High School.

Harrison had recently married. His wife, Kagen, lives with her son, Max, in Montgomery, Texas, Rowland said. He enlisted in the Army in April 2006 after joining the New Jersey Army National Guard in December 2003.

In addition to his wife, Harrison is survived by his parents Richard and Beverly Harrison of Mount Olive; sister and brother-in-law Heather and David Stiles of Washington, Warren County."

by Leslie Kwoh and Kristin Alloway/The Star-Ledger

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UPDATE: Eat Your Heart Out Paul...

update on newman's day: it's currently 12:20am, and exactly 37 minutes ago i drank number 24. mission accomplished paul. it was an honor honoring you.

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Love Them Virgins...

Thursday, April 24, 2008

i have to admit, the title is nothing more than an attention getter, but there is a correlation between virgin lemonade and newman's day- paul newman. although newman's day has absolutely nothing to do with virgin lemonade, i feel it's only proper to mention how delicious it is, for a non-alcoholic beverage, before continuing on to the booze portion of this post. for those of you that don't hit the booze, you could substitute it for the brew today.

today is newman's day. newman's day is allegedly named after paul newman and is an annual tradition at many colleges across the country. the basic idea is that you must consume 24 beers within the 24 hours that make up april 24. the holiday's name was coined by paul newman who once said "24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. coincidence? i think not." it's not just fun and booze though, there are rules to be followed on newman's day, which include:

1) no puking.
2) no making changes to your normal daily schedule.
3) no sleeping or napping outside of your typical sleep schedule.
4) all 24 brews must be consumed between 12:01am and 11:59pm on april 24.
as of right this minute, you have only 12 hours and 40 minutes to catch up and participate in this glorious holiday. but if you're afraid you'll run out of time, and you'd prefer, you could also celebrate newman night tonight by having a dinner party consisting largely of newman's own brand food. a classic paul newman movie should be viewed during dinner (i recommend 'cool hand luke') and whenever newman enters a new scene, the partakers of your little dinner party should take a drink of a newman's own beverage (i recommend virgin pink lemonade) spiked with hard alcohol (for which i recommend zyr vodka).

on that note, i'm going to grab another yuengling...

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A Tank Of Gas With Your Name On It...

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

with soaring gas prices and little money to speak of, is it possible to blog across america? haulting only long enough to make some money to fill up the tank. with old friends across the country, myspace buddies galore and new friends from craigslist that don't know me from adam, yet are willing to spare a couch for a night or two, what's holding me back? absolutely nothing my friends, absolutely nothing. with friends and a little sweat, i'm going to find a way. some say that american hospitality and the good of others is dead; i plan on proving them all wrong!

although i'll be making my trek in an extremely fuel efficient volkswagen, your sponsorship of a tank of gas would be greatly appreciated. in return, while filling up with 'your' tank, i'll post a photo in my blog of myself at the pump in your honor. be part of the trek, sponsor a tank of gas today!

TO MAKE A SECURE DONATION AND TO SPONSOR A TANK OF GAS USING A CREDIT CARD OR ELECTRONIC CHECK, CLICK THE PAYPAL ICON BELOW. PAYPAL ACCOUNT IS NOT REQUIRED. DONATIONS CAN BE MADE IN ANY AMOUNT, AND ALL ARE APPRECIATED. THANK YOU!


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5000 HITS!!!

Monday, April 21, 2008

at some point, in the wee hours this morning the hit counter rolled to 5000! although isweatbutter.com got rolling in the end of january, the counter wasn't added until march 3. (which means the unofficial hit count is higher than 5000!) i've met a lot of great people thru here, and i truly appreciate all of you reading on a regular basis; and commenting and emailing me all the time. as long as you keep reading, i'll keep writing, and i'm looking forward to the blog across america tour this summer!!!

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No Glove, No Love...

no, that IS NOT my phone.

i was surfing the urban dictionary just now and came across this, which still, 10 minutes later, still has me laughing...

TEXTUAL RELATIONS -

1.) To engage in dirty talk with one's partner via text message.

2.) Flirting, maintaining a romantic relationship via a text message from a cell phone, an email, or a postal mail letter, such as pen pals or maintenance of a long distance relationship. Textual relations are often used when two people feel the need to carefully choose their words; when thought and careful composition of thought over a longer period of time are required; when the fear of spoken conversation may be misunderstood or taken in the wrong context.

My thumbs are killing me, I was engaged in some heavy duty textual relations!

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You Can Try, But...

Saturday, April 19, 2008

a really crazy idea has come to mind...
the ultimate epiphany...
isweatbutter's blog across america...
more details coming soon!


View Larger Map

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The Plight of a Homeless, White American...

i created this back in january, but never actually wrote anything to go along with it until i got the balls the other day... the words on the photo above are from the plaque on the base of the statue of liberty; and the lyrics on the slideshow are from the song 'dear mr. president' by pink.

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Sick Of The Pope...

i know i can't speak for everyone, but i'm just going to put it out there: I AM SO SICK & TIRED OF HEARING ABOUT THE POPE. <-- LOOK! they even made a website just for this trip!

congratulations pope benney, (can i call him that?), you've been the pope for three years and you finally thought it was necessary to come to the u.s. and talk about the priest 'sex scandal' that's been out of the news for two years. way to keep on top of things.

and while we're on the subject, about 10 minutes ago on letterman, he did the top 10 list. "top 10 things overheard while the pope was in nyc."

#5- relax, the virgin megastore isn't what it sounds like.
photo courtesy of my t-mobile razor cellphone.

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Poop Talk...

Friday, April 18, 2008

i've yet to hear any of the feared butchering of the spanish language, but i have heard quite a few stories about the shitters in nicaragua. while my pops was over there, he spent some time volunteering at an orphanage/school doing what else, but handyman stuff. so after first fixing the crumbling adobe walls of the school's entrance, he went on to attempt to fix the atrocity that they called a 'bathroom.'

now understand this, for nearly 1 year after my dad moved into the casa de moldovanyi that i currently call home, he lived here by himself. and while working on installing indoor plumbing in the old vacation bungalow, he at first would piss and shit in a 5 gallon spackle bucket, before upgrading to a camping toilet in the middle of the kitchen floor. that, my friends, was ok with him. so when he told me that the toilets in nicaragua were "at-ro-sites," i knew they had to be pretty bad.

the worst of which was the bathroom as pictured above. he took this photo post-remodel. from what i gather here's how it works over there:
1) dig a hole somewhere near the entrance of the building.
2) pour cement into the hole to make a cement 'box.'
3) cover the cement 'box' with a cement lid with two holes cut out of it.
4) move the 'portable privacy shanty' over the top of the holes.
5) drop it like it's hot.
6) when the 'box' is full you plug the hole and start back at 1.

unfortunately, from what i hear, what they DON'T do is give these kids target practice. 900 kids. 450 at a time share the above photographed 'bathroom.' and miss the hole they do. i told my mom that she should have been grateful that when i was little all i did was piss on the toilet seat. from what i hear, these kids shit right on the floor, and walk away like it never even happened. twice a day the 85 year old woman in the photo walks a mile uphill to get 2 buckets of water to douse into the, again i use the term loosely, 'bathroom.' a little sweeping with the same broom that's used to sweep the classrooms at night, and VOILA! good as new! ...or not.

may i also mention that of the 2 bathrooms, the one on the left of the photo has a padlock, for teachers only. so 900 kids share 1 toilet. no sink. no purell. and to top it off, their 'water fountain' is a basin of water that they dip their HANDS in to get a drink. (twenty bucks says you could bottle the aftermath of that basin and sell it as 'artesian water' in some swanky place in nyc or dc!)

so my father, the good samaritan, purchased, and helped them to install the toilet shown above, but to no avail... i guess when you get used to droppin' loose on your feet, it's a hard habit to break. the kids stood on the toilet for better aim?? maybe? it goes to shown that you can change things that don't need changing. for us, it's disgusting; for them, it's normal. such ignorant americans we are...

PRE-TOILET ASSUMPTION:

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Political Idol...

Thursday, April 17, 2008

from the website of the inspirational will.i.am, www.dipdive.com, that brought us the 'yes we can' and 'we are the ones' videos, was this blog post that i found to be sadly true. in addition to the political aspect of it though, i also found it to be quite disturbing that american's can afford to donate so much of their paychecks to causes overseas, yet there are still thousands of people homeless and starving in the united states. notice the 'truth be told' comment at the bottom of the post as well.

"Presidential Candidates Feel The Sting Of Idol's Good Will"
By: Ben Mandelker

"When American Idol aired its second annual charity special, Idol Gives Back, earlier this week, the producers seemed to go out of their way to cram as many celebrity cameos as humanly possible into the mammoth show. Yet despite an accommodating two-and-a-half hour running time, there were at least three people who still were left out of the fun. That’s right, Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, and John McCain were nowhere to be seen, instead relegated to the proverbial sidelines that was Thursday’s results show. It sort of seemed like a bizarre snub. Surely these three Presidential candidates had enough clout to warrant a place on the main stage, but I guess Fox felt other celebrities were more valuable for fundraising needs. And honestly, I kind of agree. I mean, out of all the stars that took the stage, who would you turn away?

Certainly not George Lopez, whose mere presence reminded us that the world is in a very, very unfunny state. Certainly not High School Musical thespians Vanessa Hudgens and Ashley Tisdale, whose squeaky voices reasserted the generally annoying nature of poverty. And certainly not So You Think You Can Dance judge Mary Murphy, whose incessant screaming perfectly expressed how the eardrums of our souls need to be pierced with the shrill call of activism. Yes, all these celebrities were entirely too valuable to bump off the program.

There were also Posh and Becks, a.k.a. Victoria and David Beckham. Never could they have been dropped from the show as their Very Serious Faces reminded us that poverty affects everyone, even the pretty. Similarly, Tyra Banks served as a beacon of sassy inspiration to every one of us, proving once again that we can all remain fierce (snap) in the face of overwhelming hardship. Oh, and I’d be loathe to omit Teri Hatcher and The Band From TV. Some may have deemed their cover of the Carrie Underwood tune “When He Cheats” “unnecessary” and “bad”, but to me, it was a sterling example of the hubris that lets poverty thrive. A cautionary tale indeed.

Surely I wouldn’t trade one second of the ten thousand that were spent on Miley Cyrus and Billy Crystal’s never-ending banter. When the young songbird reminded us that her album had reached the top of the charts, I couldn’t help but pump my fist triumphantly, noting the power to succeed commercially even in adverse economical times. Say what you will about Obama, but you haven’t heard hope until you’ve heard Hannah Montana. And to further cement that notion, we got two, count ‘em, two Miley Cyrus performances. Thank goodness neither one was cut. They were a testament to the conviction of America’s youth — willing to go out there and give quite literally 200%. Amen, Miley. Amen.

Then there was Robin Williams. His low-rent, Borat-rip-off bit went on and on and on. Some people might say that had the producers cut it down (or out completely) then maybe we could have had time for the candidates. But those naysayers don’t seem to realize that if we didn’t have Mr. Williams’s long, tired comic routine, we would never have truly felt the pain and desperation that so many of our brothers and sisters feel. Only Robin Williams could induce the sort of groans that speak to the misery of so many people. He truly made us experience the strife, more so than anyone else. Not even Barack Obama’s most eloquent speech could ever convey that.

So I commend the producers of American Idol. Their emphasis on celebrities — no matter how big or small — over the politicians was a smart one. Someday, one of these Presidential candidates will be shaping the policies that affect poverty in our country and others, but until they can do a stale comedy routine or release a catchy pop album, we’ll leave the fundraising to the stars."

**COMMENT**
I believe the article was intended to convey that celebrity worship and popular culture have superceded real issues and policy in this country. Of course one would think that American Idol is so far below candidates for the Presidency that you wouldn’t normally put the two in the same sentence, but it seems that Idol was attempting to lend some measure of sincerity to what was intended to be a charity event. Instead, by relegating the candidates to taped speeches which were then moved to the results show, indicated that Miley Cyrus fawning all over herself and Tyra Banks looking ‘fah-bulous’ were more important than the future president of the United States making a plea for charity.

I hope that American Idol might have been, in some soft, nougaty, altruistic center, addressing the distressing fact that more people vote for Idol contestants than vote in the general election. I doubt it.

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Will Work For Food...

i stumbled onto this picture in my cellphone's online photo album tonight. i remember vividly the morning that i took it, and just about everything else about the three months that followed it. it was taken during a very strange period in my life; one that i would love to learn from and forget about, but instead i feel that i am constantly reminded of and wonder- 'just how much different is my life now?'

i woke up in the passenger seat of my car. in the colosseum parking garage at caesars in atlantic city. i had worked the day before, for literally, 34 hours straight. still exhausted and groggy, i was woken up by a single beam of sunlight, no larger than a dime, blasting from god knows where, right into my eye, broken up only by the cross hanging from my rearview mirror.

i don't often remember my dreams, and most of the time when i do, i would prefer to classify them as nightmares. but this particular morning, for some odd reason, i remembered every second of my dream. and right now, nearly 1 year later, i still remember it as if it just happened. i was having a heart-to-heart with god. not necessarily 'God' in the proper form, but with whom i can only assume was my god. he, for the record, looked very much like dennis miller (cir. 1990) with the intriguing eyes of franklin roosevelt. but he was outlining my life, concentrating as i recall, more heavily and in more depth on the present and near future. he was aware of everything, as i had not said a word, but i heard it all just as i had lived it. at the end of the reflection, he said "when the time comes you'll know what to do and you'll know when to do it." cue: beam of sunlight.

as i mentioned before, i had just worked 34 hours straight, hadn't showered or changed in that time, and hadn't had a day off in about 3 weeks. my life at the time consisted mainly of work, coupled with excess alcohol, drugs and debauchery. all the work, all the play, and i wake up in my car; not because i was responsible and didn't drive home after drinking, but because for 3 months of my life, my car was my home. for 3 months i lived at 2005 jeep liberty lane. and no one knew it. i had a semi-high profile job at a company that was "going places and taking me with it." i 'moved' into a post office box, stashed my stuff in a storage locker, and pretended to show up to work everyday chipper and well-rested.

as frank warren once said, "there are some secrets we keep from others, and other's we keep from ourselves." i spent many a nights thinking about where i was going, and where i was going to end up. how long could i do this? how long could i hide it? i wasn't sure. i couldn't answer my own questions, so i shut it all out. pretended that it wasn't happening. i decided to keep this secret from myself and everyone else. i went about my days without others having a clue. in fact, some of those people that i was hiding it from will read this now, and i hope they can look back and see the answer to the 'why?'

i think my biggest fear was about being judged. i wasn't supposed to be in this situation. i wasn't meant to be in this situation. but i was, and still, a year later, haven't completely recovered from it. i'm really trying to start a brand new chapter in my life. i feel like getting this off of my chest is something that i've needed to do for a long time. i think it will answer the question 'why?' for more than just my coworkers from that time.

i've carried a worn copy of this poem in my wallet since that day. it reminded me of what i was hiding from, and of how much worse it could get. the first time that i read it, i used it as a checklist to see how far i had fallen. i wasn't looking good, that was for sure. but time they say heals all wounds. and although i am still struggling to put my past into my past, i feel like this is a huge step. i can only hope that the judgement and ridicule isn't affirmed...

Will Work For Food by Rose Limongi

Who am I?
I am me; humble and alone
I am your son, your daughter, and your ex-
I am your friend, your lover, and a skeleton
I am a woman, a mother, and a child
I am a former CEO, a POW, disabled
I am a genius, an ex-convict, and prostitute
I am a druggie, an alcoholic, mentally ill
I am an annoyance, an embarrassment, and a cheat
I am filthy, robbed of my humanity, beaten down
I am playing the system, faking it (or am I?)
I am choosing to live this way – I could work if I wanted
I am living under bridges, in libraries, dumpsters and cars
I am an angel, a threat, a danger, and a pitiful reminder of failure
I am demanding – begging for leftovers and money
I am despicable for smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol
I am not responsible enough to love others, so you say
I am the person you judge each and every day
I am me; humble and alone

How many times will people judge me – naked and exposed?
My life and all my worldly goods contained in a sack
My shopping cart filled with your disposable consumer goods
My dining experience is your garbage, dumpster for 1 please
My healthcare is non-existent unless I’m left for dead
My conversations with people are from a distance
My mind aches from watching the haves tip the scales
My soul, no longer intact, has been scorched with hatred
I am me; humble and alone

You don’t want to see me, you hate me, and you despise me
You pity me, judge me, curse me, you wish I would go away
You throw money at me in disgust; shout obscenities and sneer
You nearly run me over – justifying the act in your mind
You head to toe me with disgusted eyes then make me invisible
You fear getting too close for smell or threat of crime
You lock your doors; take the safety off your gun beside you
You tell me to “get a fucking job you loser”
You ban me from earning any money on roads
You ban me from public places you enjoy
You deny me my basic civil rights because I lack a home
I am me; humble and alone

What you don’t realize is this
What I once was and who I have become are irrelevant
What I need matters far more ultimately
Buy me a meal at a fast food restaurant; then sit with me
Talk to me; get to know my story
Keep some easily opened, non-perishable foods in your car
Give me the greatest gift of all - a smile
Remember that I am human, with wants, needs, and desires
Never forget that you too, are one or two paychecks away
From the life you now sit in judgment of
Remember that it is only with each other that we all survive
Alone and apart – we die of spiritual starvation
Souls executed for being nothing more than - fallible, human
Extend the hand of love and friendship – invest in me again
Retrieve me from the vast wasteland of solitude and depression
Fertilize my mind with ideas and hope once more
Don’t abandon me when I fail, or fall back on bad habits
Be firm, yet fair – for I am you in one or two paychecks
I am me; humble and alone.

'Will Work For Food...' © 2004 Rose Limongi

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The Hungarian's American Dictionary With A Twist...

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

i'm off to the airport to pick up pops from his "spanish language experience" in nicaragua. after a month of classes, i'm sure he has learned just enough to be confident in thinking that he speaks spanish. there is no doubt in my mind though, he'll butcher his spanish like he does his english, thus giving me new words to add to the beloved "hungarian's american dictionary." my guess at this point is that he'll mix up the word gato and gatada when trying to talk about my cat. and let me tell you, you tell my "gato" to "scratch" you, and you better believe he'll accept that invitation with open arms. maybe my next entry on the subject will be called something along the lines of "the span-glish-garian dictionary."

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A Dash Of Spleeness...

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

my blogging buddy spleeness posted a link to her youtube favorites the other day, which gave me the idea to post a link to mine as well. i spend quite a bit of time surfing youtube, and thought some of ya'll might be interested in exactly what it is that i'm browsing. so if indeed you are interested, you can check out my favorites HERE.

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James Earl Jones & a Liter of Bourbon...

i often try and spread the 'musical love' on here by throwing out the tunes and names of musicians that i hold up high on a pedestal, and that many people haven't necessarily heard of. i really only mention musicians that i listen to on a regular basis, and that i would recommend dropping coin on by downloading their albums on itunes. i'm gonna go out on a limb here when i say that this is the ABSOLUTE WORST music i've ever heard. i've seen this kid all over the internet and on tv, and i just don't get it. think about james earl jones polishing off a liter of jack daniels and then breakin' it down on a keyboard. doesn't really sound appealing does it? i didn't think so. i respectfully request that you waste the next 3 minutes of your life by listening to and/or watching the youtube video above. his lyrics sound like someone in the midst of a tourette's fit and the 'music' sounds like the pre-recorded bassa-nova on my old casio keyboard. if you're anything like me, you probably won't be able to make it past the first verse, in which case, if you're really bored you can go read the lyrics HERE.

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[Lost]

i don't know what i'm supposed to do;
just this minute.
what ever happened to honesty and truth?
well forget it.
it seems that no matter how i try,
i just crumble down inside.

so maybe this time i could do things right.
and stay humble.
and so i'll put it all out,
and lay it on the line.
and leave all of my troubles far behind.
please take this weight off my shoulders and set me free.

i need you to tell me what to do,
what your plan is.
can you just show me my next move?
i swear i'll believe it.
because it seems that no matter how i stray,
you always find me along the way.
so maybe this time i could do things right?
i promise i'll keep on trying.

.

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Jiminy Cricket Syndrome...

Monday, April 14, 2008

jiminy cricket syndrome: the delusional feeling that one can have regarding the belief that if you wish for something hard enough, it will come true.

as the days go by, i'm fearing more and more that i'm suffering from 'the syndrome.' as much as i think i know what i need to do to really get my life together, i find myself constantly feeling bogged down with so many little things that individually don't matter much; but as a whole, really bog me down. it's funny though, or maybe ironic is the word, because i often feel like me and jiminy spend a lot of time chatting in my head. the whole weighing of pros and cons is much easier when you have someone to talk to about it, that won't talk back. i promise i'm not schizo, but we all have those bouts of deep thought with ourselves, mine just happen to be with a little imaginary cricket.

and during this deep search for truth, i've reached for influence in places that i don't normally search; one of which is the horoscope column. over the last 2 or 3 months, i've really paid attention and have read my horoscope just about everyday. today's really hit me hard, and is what has spawned this blog entry. it read:

"Your challenge today is paying attention to the details without being overwhelmed by them. On one hand, you're ready to charge ahead but your common sense approach requires you to have all the information you need before making a final decision. This could be a smart idea, but what if there's no end to the incoming stream of data? If you feel overwhelmed, just choose what seems best and move on. Your intuition is better than you think."

now if i could just get myself to believe it. i've always been an over-thinker when it came to personal stuff and now i'm beginning to think it's a weakness- one that i need to overcome, quickly.

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Black Is The New President...

snl is FINALLY making a comeback!

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Let Go...

Sunday, April 13, 2008

my sister posted this on her blog and after reading it several times, i realized that it's really something that i need to learn. i've tried so hard to hang on to relationships that have no future, and in doing so have caused others to basically go to sh*t. i gather from the original post, that this was a religious sermon, and i've rewritten it a bit to really reflect the way i feel that it relates to me. making big life decisions cause all of us to make rash choices sometimes, and i think this has helped to remind me how important it really is.

"there are people who can walk away from you, and hear me when I tell you this: when people can walk away from you, let them walk. i don’t want you to try to talk another person into staying with you, loving you, calling you, caring about you, coming to see you, staying attached to you. just hang up the phone. when people can walk away from you let them walk. your destiny is never tied to anyone that has left. people leave you because they are not joined to you, and if they are not joined to you, you can’t make them stay. let them go.

and it doesn’t mean that they are a bad person it just means that their part in the story is over. and you’ve got to know when people’s part in your story is over so that you don’t keep trying to raise the dead. you’ve got to know when it’s dead. you've got to know when it’s over. let me tell you something: i’ve got the gift of good-bye, it’s the tenth spiritual gift, i believe in good-bye. it’s not that i’m hateful, it’s that i’m faithful, and I know whatever i do have, i'm meant to have. if it takes too much sweat I don’t need it. stop begging people to stay. let them go.

If you are holding on to something that doesn’t belong to you and was never intended for your life, then you need to...
LET IT GO!!!
If you are holding on to past hurts and pains...
LET THEM GO!!!
If someone can’t treat you right, love you back, and see your worth...
LET THEM GO!!!
If someone has angered you...
LET IT GO!!!
If you are holding on to some thoughts of evil and revenge...
LET IT GO!!!
If you are involved in a wrong relationship or addiction...
LET IT GO!!!
If you are holding on to a job that no longer meets your needs or talents...
LET IT GO!!!
If you have a bad attitude...
LET IT GO!!!
If you keep judging others to make yourself feel better...
LET IT GO!!!
If you are struggling with the healing of a broken relationship...
LET IT GO!!!
If you keep trying to help someone who won’t even try to help themselves...
LET THEM GO!!!
If you’re feeling depressed and stressed...
LET IT GO!!!
Let the past be the past. Forget the former things...
LET THEM ALL GO!!!
Get Right or Get Left...
AND LET IT GO!!!"

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In Holy Matrimony...

Saturday, April 12, 2008

this picture is from six flags back in the day; me, frank and my sisters. today's his wedding, that's what he's thinking, i'll be drunk later, that's what i'm thinking. cheers!

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Stick It...

"Patriotism is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime."
-Adlai E. Stevenson

i can't say that i've ever watched more than a few clips of 'boston legal' on youtube, but quite some time ago i was sent the link to this video in an email that i've been saving for years. i think my wanting to share it comes from the renewed feeling of pride that i have after seeing the movie 'stop loss' the other day.

it doesn't matter if you've ever seen the show, or the 55 minutes preceding this episode titled 'stick it!'; the message is clear. when you see or hear the name 'melissa hughes' mentioned, feel free to replace it with my name to make it more personal. it's an excellent message, and so powerfully delivered.

i tried very hard to find the video in it's entirety to post for your viewing pleasure, but mickey, goofy and the other clowns over at abc have deleted it from everywhere that it was hosted. i've found it though, and with a secret handshake and the password (new england clam chowder, and yes, that's the white one!) you can watch it by either mousing over the transcript below and watching it in the snapshot, or go ahead and click the transcript and it'll pop-up big screen style in a new window.

i hope you enjoy and comment away!

Alan Shore's closing argument:
"When the weapons of mass destruction thing turned out to be not true, I expected the American people to rise up. Ha! They didn't.

Then, when the Abu Ghraib torture thing surfaced and it was revealed that our government participated in rendition, a practice where we kidnap people and turn them over to regimes who specialize in torture, I was sure then the American people would be heard from. We stood mute.

Then came the news that we jailed thousands of so-called terrorists suspects, locked them up without the right to a trial or even the right to confront their accusers. Certainly, we would never stand for that. We did.

And now, it's been discovered the executive branch has been conducting massive, illegal, domestic surveillance on its own citizens. You and me. And I at least consoled myself that finally, finally the American people will have had enough. Evidentially, we haven't.

In fact, if the people of this country have spoken, the message is we're okay with it all. Torture, warrantless search and seizure, illegal wiretappings, prison without a fair trial - or any trial, war on false pretenses. We, as a citizenry, are apparently not offended.

There are no demonstrations on college campuses. In fact, there's no clear indication that young people seem to notice.

Well, Melissa Hughes noticed. Now, you might think, instead of withholding her taxes, she could have protested the old fashioned way. Made a placard and demonstrated at a Presidential or Vice-Presidential appearance, but we've lost the right to that as well. The Secret Service can now declare free speech zones to contain, control and, in effect, criminalize protest.

Stop for a second and try to fathom that.

At a presidential rally, parade or appearance, if you have on a supportive t-shirt, you can be there. If you are wearing or carrying something in protest, you can be removed.

This, in the United States of America. This in the United States of America. Is Melissa Hughes the only one embarrassed?

I'm sick & tired. And what I'm most sick and tired of is how every time somebody disagrees with how the government is running things, he or she is labeled unAmerican."

"U.S. Attorney Jonathan Shapiro: Evidentally, it's speech time."

Alan: "And speech in this country is free, you hack! Free for me, free for you. Free for Melissa Hughes to stand up to her government and say "Stick it"!

I object to government abusing its power to squash the constitutional freedoms of its citizenry. And, God forbid, anybody challenge it. They're smeared as being a heretic. Melissa Hughes is an American. Melissa Hughes is an American. Melissa Hughes is an American!

Last night, I went to bed with a book. Not as much fun as a 29 year old, but the book contained a speech by Adlai Stevenson. The year was 1952. He said, "The tragedy of our day is the climate of fear in which we live and fear breeds repression. Too often, sinister threats to the Bill of Rights, to freedom of the mind are concealed under the patriotic cloak of anti-Communism."

Today, it's the cloak of anti-terrorism. Stevenson also remarked, "It's far easier to fight for principles than to live up to them."

I know we are all afraid, but the Bill of Rights - we have to live up to that. We simply must. That's all Melissa Hughes was trying to say. She was speaking for you. I would ask you now to go back to that room and speak for her."

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The AMTRAK Chronicles...

Friday, April 11, 2008

some of you may have seen my original attempt, if ever so feeble, to post 'the amtrak chronicles' to the site via email posts from my cellphone. for whatever reason, that turned out to be quite the disaster, showing the first sentence and ending with '...' so i'll attempt now, to recreate the amusing experience i had while riding the train to virginia and back. enhanced of course by photos taken with my cellphone.


it all started at the asscrack of dawn train from newark-penn station. 7:24am to be exact. after driving around the ghettos of newark, nj for an hour looking for parking, i was directed to park at newark-liberty airport and take the shuttle to the train station. the funny part is, after the train leaves penn station, it stops at the newark airport train station, but i was not able to wait for the train there, because my ticket was for boarding at penn station. whatever. i hadn't had enough coffee at this point, nor enough sleep to bother arguing about it with the 'lovely' lady in the ticket window, whose nametag said 'peaches.' it was great that my trip began with such sarcasm.


the next bit of fun, of which i wish i had a photo, or even better, a video was of the lovely woman busting her ass in the aisle of the train. we were trucking along through maryland, soon after she boarded the train in baltimore, and we hit quite a patch of 'turbulence.' she was walking ever so carefully down the aisle, but to no avail, she tripped and fell nearly flat on her face. as if the combination of her falling, and the reaction of the entire train cracking up wasn't enough, she pulled herself up onto her knees and shout's 'f*cking choo-choo.' classic.


the next entertaining portion of my voyage included a whole lot of eavesdropping on my part. the couple in front of me, who in my honest opinion had probably met on jdate, were chatting about what 'ishmael' should say and do when he met 'esmerelda's' parents for the first time. from what i gathered, esmerelda's mom was in the hospital and poor ishmael was going to meet her for the first time, at her bedside. they gleefully chatted about what he should do when he was introduced. he wondered, out loud, should i go right in for the hug? should i shake her hand? esmerelda gave the keen suggestion that he should ask her if he could give her a hug. stupidest thing i've ever heard. who does that? then he asked if, upon meeting her mother, if he should say something along the lines of 'oh i see where esmerelda gets her height from.' she, for the record, was maybe, maybe 5'4". the conversation continued with a crash course on bluegrass music, so that ishmael had something to talk to her father about as well. i don't know much about bluegrass, but if i was basing my opinion on her descriptions, and i was her boyfriend, i would have surely heaved myself off the side of the moving train.


next, after switching from electric to diesel engine in washington, d.c., we broke down in the middle of the woods and had to wait for another engine to come and bail us out. needless to say, the 6 hour trip took about 7 1/2. such is my life.


on wednesday, after sleeping til around noon, sam and i went paint shopping at the home depot. how many home depot employees does it take to mix a gallon of paint? three, to be exact. in case you were wondering. then we were off to the movies. of which, after long and hard thought, i realized that i hadn't been to the movies since i saw the good shepherd. we opted for stop-loss. and i'll say, from someone who doesn't usually have the attention span to watch a movie, and rarely gets to the movies; stop-loss is a must see.


after partaking in the divine movie mentioned above, we were stopping, as sam said for 'a beer.' which after stepping into the capital ale house was a guaranteed impossibility. their beer menu was about 40 pages long. i couldn't even get into it, i just asked the bartender for an ipa that he recommended; and it was all downhill from there. after 4 or 5 or maybe 6 HUGE breckenridge 471 double ipa's, the people-watching got really fun. the chick in the red holly sweater in the picture, worked her magic with every guy that would give her the time of day. then when they got bored she'd move onto the next one. young, old, hairy, hairless, she didn't care. she kind of reminded me of wal-mart, ALWAYS LOW STANDARDS, ALWAYS! at one point i watched her throw up in her hand and then wipe it on her pants, before continuing her lame conversation with baldilocks. the night was downhill from there; 100% drunkeness & debauchery.


fast forward to the amtrak chronicles: part deux. the ride home. although for the most part, it was less eventful, i did run into another amusing cast of characters, and some old favorites as well. i wish i could have gotten a close up of this lady's shirt, it said something like 'chocolate: i like it milky like me.' where she bought that beauty i'll never know, but it looked hot with her mudd jeans, circa 1998, and her classic reeboks. my friend electa said i shouldn't be surprised that people in virginia still wear mudd jeans, because after all, 'they sell ham on the side of the road.' i didn't see any drive by pork product stands, but i was happy to see ishmael and esmerelda again when they hopped back on the train in fredericksburg.


i recall my days as a young lad, playing with my toy train, and wondering why i had an entire train set of tropicana orange juice train cars. i think i liked them, because unlike the prodcuts on my other toy train cars, i actually knew what tropicana was, but i thought it was just for the sake of the toy. today, for the first time, i was proven wrong; as today's delay was because of a 100 car train of tropicana cars. i couldn't friggin believe it. i have never seen an iron snake that long, and for it to be all tropicana cars was like a childhood dream come true. not necessarily worth the hour and fifteen minute delay, but divine none-the-less.


so that was my slamtrack experience in a nutshell. a long ride, but fun times were had by all. next time i'm bringing my video camera for the ride; that'll be interesting for sure.

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Digger By Booger...

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

snother gem from the 'expressions' literary magazine days.

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A Many Splendid Thing...

Sunday, April 06, 2008

-james matthew barrie.

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I Hate To Walk On By...

Saturday, April 05, 2008

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Longing For Home...

i sit here thinking about you,
something i can't describe,
but can only state,
since it's not an image,
but your energy, my longing.

how do you explain
the taste of your favorite dessert,
the heat of the sun,
a walk across the beach under the moonlight,
the twinkling of a star?
your spirit isn't something
that can be put into words,
but stating the images
evokes the emotion,
and that is how it feels
just looking at you.

and I can't help but think
that these moments
are the breeze escaping
from heaven's gate,
and we are getting a sense
of eternity's atmosphere.


duana.

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In Memory of MA2 Michael A. Monsoor, USN...

Thursday, April 03, 2008

nearly 18 months after navy seal michael monsoor was killed in action in iraq, the united states government will award his family with the congretional medal of honor in a ceremony in washington tomorrow. his courage and selflessness is humbling; his pride and honor contagious.

the talk of our troops battling in iraq has become so passe. similar stories of heroism swepted under the rug as if to say "that is their duty." so many souls forgotten. i've challenged myself today, to remember the actions of others at war for our country. those who fight for MY freedom, and the freedom of my friends and family. i challenge YOU to do the same.

my thoughts and prayers go out to the family of michael monsoor, and to those still serving this great country at home and overseas. THANK YOU for your selfless pride and for your courage.

SUMMARY OF ACTION
from: http://www.navy.mil/moh/monsoor/index.html

Petty Officer Michael A. Monsoor, United States Navy, distinguished himself through conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as a Combat Advisor and Automatic Weapons Gunner for Naval Special Warfare Task Group Arabian Peninsula in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom on 29 September 2006. He displayed great personal courage and exceptional bravery while conducting operations in enemy held territory at Ar Ramadi Iraq.

During Operation Kentucky Jumper, a combined Coalition battalion clearance and isolation operation in southern Ar Ramadi, he served as automatic weapons gunner in a combined SEAL and Iraqi Army (IA) sniper overwatch element positioned on a residential rooftop in a violent sector and historical stronghold for insurgents. In the morning, his team observed four enemy fighters armed with AK-47s reconnoitering from roads in the sector to conduct follow-on attacks. SEAL snipers from his roof engaged two of them which resulted in one enemy wounded in action and one enemy killed in action. A mutually supporting SEAL/IA position also killed an enemy fighter during the morning hours. After the engagements, the local populace blocked off the roads in the area with rocks to keep civilians away and to warn insurgents of the presence of his Coalition sniper element. Additionally, a nearby mosque called insurgents to arms to fight Coalition Forces.

In the early afternoon, enemy fighters attacked his position with automatic weapons fire from a moving vehicle. The SEALs fired back and stood their ground. Shortly thereafter, an enemy fighter shot a rocket-propelled grenade at his building. Though well-acquainted with enemy tactics in Ar Ramadi, and keenly aware that the enemy would continue to attack, the SEALs remained on the battlefield in order to carry out the mission of guarding the western flank of the main effort.

Due to expected enemy action, the officer in charge repositioned him with his automatic heavy machine gun in the direction of the enemy’s most likely avenue of approach. He placed him in a small, confined sniper hide-sight between two SEAL snipers on an outcropping of the roof, which allowed the three SEALs maximum coverage of the area. He was located closest to the egress route out of the sniper hide-sight watching for enemy activity through a tactical periscope over the parapet wall. While vigilantly watching for enemy activity, an enemy fighter hurled a hand grenade onto the roof from an unseen location. The grenade hit him in the chest and bounced onto the deck. He immediately leapt to his feet and yelled “grenade” to alert his teammates of impending danger, but they could not evacuate the sniper hide-sight in time to escape harm. Without hesitation and showing no regard for his own life, he threw himself onto the grenade, smothering it to protect his teammates who were lying in close proximity. The grenade detonated as he came down on top of it, mortally wounding him.

Petty Officer Monsoor’s actions could not have been more selfless or clearly intentional. Of the three SEALs on that rooftop corner, he had the only avenue of escape away from the blast, and if he had so chosen, he could have easily escaped. Instead, Monsoor chose to protect his comrades by the sacrifice of his own life. By his courageous and selfless actions, he saved the lives of his two fellow SEALs and he is the most deserving of the special recognition afforded by awarding the Medal of Honor.

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The Hungarian-American's Dictionary...

my pops, being a first generation immigrant from hungary, has always, as far back as i remember, had his own special command of the english language. one of the reasons that i find it quite comical that he's currently in nicaragua studying spanish. he often speaks in tongues that are easily compared to spanglish, only it's a combination of english and hungarian. he speaks hungarian fluently, and english with a thick accent. today, while attempting to do a system restore on his old desktop computer, i came across and old file that my sister had written, and was supposed to be the start of the 'hungarian-american's dictionary.' it's a list of terms my father so lovingly uses to describe everyday things and practices, and it too is quite comical. i'm sure you'll enjoy reading these as much as i do. so here goes, from 'daddiosbookofwordz.doc.'

BONEYARD - noun: a place to bury the dead, a graveyard or cemetary.

EASTERN - noun: an annual christian festival in commemoration of the resurrection of jesus christ, observed on the first sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. aka: easter.

GERITOL ALLEY - noun: any establishment, location or state where senior citizens or 'old farts' congregate. i.e. boneyard, nursing home, florida.

GREASED DILDO - noun: kielbasa, a smoked sausage of coarsely chopped beef and pork, flavored with garlic & spices.

LEASH/LEASE - noun(s): these words are interchangeable. i.e. i have to sign a leash before i can move into the apartment. OR i must find the lease before i can walk the dog.

SWEATSHOP-ON-WHEELS - noun: a tractor trailer or semi-truck, a combination trucking unit consisting of a tractor hooked up to a full trailer or a semitrailer.

VAGISEA - noun: (vaj-ee-see) any cream or lotion used to remedy itchy or dry skin.

so that's all that i found written down, however i know that there are plenty more. i'll have to consult my sister's to bring you another edition of 'the hungarian-americans' dictionary.'

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Happy Sizdah Bedar...

in case you didn't have enough of april fool's day (you know, the lamest 'holiday' of the year), you can hop on a flight to iran and celebrate sizdah bedar today. it's the iranian equivalent of april fool's day where they play 'pranks' on each other; undoubtedly these pranks only require a few sticks of dynamite, a belt and an oversize new england patriots superbowl champions shirt.
what better way to celebrate?

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I've Got To Beat Oprah To It...

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

you'll see it on oprah tomorrow, and the headlines will all read something along the lines of 'a man is having a baby.'

i don't get it. i grew up with the understanding that the anatomy of one's body determines one's sex. boys have a penis, girls have a vagina. as far as i know, that's still the case. now i'm certainly not trying to create enemies here, as i know that the previous statement could be easily argued with statements about anatomy NOT being the only determining factor in one's gender determination. some might say it's a 50/50 between anatomy and mental state.

i'll feign my ignorance here, and continue...
tracy pop's a few hormones to grow facial hair, gets a voluntary mastectomy, doesn't shave her pits for a few months, hangs on to her vagina, changes her name to thomas and lives her life as a man. her "wife" gets her tubes tied and they decide to have a baby...

i don't see anything wrong with people living their lives the way they feel comfortable. i don't care about other's sexual orientation, race or religion. i DO, however, have a problem with people who live their lives the way they wish, fight for their freedom, in this case for a 'same sex marriage,' and then change their mind in an overly-dramatic 180. indecisivness breeds anger.

the typical couple, in this situation, would most likely look into a surrogate mother or adoption. i can't stop thinking that if this wasn't just a search for 15 minutes or a guest spot on oprah, this couple would have done the same. but we are all well aware of the fact that there aren't enough children in need of adoption in the world!?!?

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M.C. On The B-List...

it's been a few weeks since janet jackson had to cancel her appearance as musical guest on saturday night live due to illness. thank god mariah carey had nothing better to do, and was able to make a musical appearance at the last minute. talk about b-list. i've never been a big fan of mariah carey's music, unless it was a collaboration with another musician or group. you know the good ones: 'one sweet day' with boyz II men, the 'fantasy' remix with old dirty bastard, the 'high quality' m.c. tunes.

these days, i think mariah is going through a mid-life crisis; only she's not getting a boob-job, plastic surgery or a sweet new sports car. she's trying to be 'young again,' singing ebonics, dressing like a hooker in the east village, and begging for people to 'touch her body.' no thanks. i'll pass.

don't get me wrong, she's only pushing 40, which by no means is old; maybe just a little old when you're begging for people to 'give you a taste' and for the record, i don't think anything could 'fit [her] tighter than her favorite jeans' either...'

Touch my body-Put me on the floor-Wrestle me around-Play with me some more-Touch my body-Throw me on the bed-I just wanna make you feel-Like you never did.

Touch my body-Let me wrap my thighs-All around your waist-Just a little taste-Touch my body-Know you love my curves-Come on and give me what I deserve-And touch my body.

Boy you can put me on you-Like a brand new white tee-I'll hug your body tighter-Than my favorite jeans.

like i said, no thanks mariah.

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I'm Baaaack...

after a much needed hiatus, i'm back; and have plenty to write about after a mostly enjoyable, long weekend. THANK YOU ALL for sticking around and sending me emails of withdrawl...

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