What if Peanut Butter and Jelly never met?

      I was driving down the road and saw this car with the most awful colors.  A bright almost florescent green with an almost mustard yellow trim. I thought to myself.  That doesn't go together at all.  Maybe its the way my mind works sometimes.  I always think things should fit or go together.  A strange but perhaps telling example is when I open a box of Samoas.  I may eat two at first but then I see that the row looks half empty and I'm compelled to eat the other two.   If I'm two cookies away from finishing the box, I'll finish them. It just doesn't ease my mind to leave two cookies in a box and put it away.  Finish them and be done.   Now that we've somewhat diagnosed me with OCD and I've failed to explain what I mean, I'll try again.
        It makes me wonder why things go together or what makes two strange things work well together?   My prime example is peanut butter and jelly.   Peanut butter with its...well peanut butter taste and jelly with its sugary sweet taste often highlighted by grape, strawberry or peach flavoring.   It seems odd to put those two together yet they are a match made in sandwich heaven.   I've heard rumblings of peanut butter and bananas,  Pb with honey and Pb and pickles.  They may all be wonderful pairings however let us remember that peanut butter and jelly blazed the trail originally. 

       I guess my point in all this nonsensical rambling is that sometimes in life things fit that shouldn't or things go together like peas and carrots despite looking like mayonnaise and meatballs.  My advice?  Don't knock anything until you try it.  I used to eat my eggs naked but now its hot sauce or ketchup.  I used to use only ketchup for my fries but now mayonnaise has been added.  I used to put orange juice in my Coors light.  Wait...that was my roommate.  What mixes well for you may not mix well for me but that's life baby.   I'm not entirely sure this blog will make any sense to anyone but its good to be back!  

Kool Aid smile, Dirt on my shirt and my Huffy...

Yesterday was the first day of the summer and also the longest day of the summer.  Some would say its all downhill from here but I think it's only just begun.   Naturally my nostalgic mind went into overdrive and for those that know me well, I like to dabble in nostalgia but don’t dwell.  I’m all about the good times but also love making new good times if you will.  Anyway, I started thinking about my childhood summers and how different each one seemed to be.   As a grown man (chronologically that is), it’s all sort of like that old viewfinder toy we played with as kids.   Here I am sitting at work clicking one picture at a time. 

My summers as a kid were spent for the most part at someone else’s house.  My parents were young parents and also both young working parents so I was shipped around to different babysitters.   My wonderful grandmother (God rest her soul) Pearl raised me for the most part.   I can remember her teaching me my ABC’s, 1, 2, 3’s and also the value of making quality tea and tuna sandwiches.  She always spoiled me and our trips to Woolworth’s for grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate shakes will always make me smile.  I was also raised by two very special Aunts named Brenda and Pat.   I spent a lot of weekends and weeks during the summer when my mouth was wired shut.  (Long dental story to be told later).   Chocolate milk, dart gun fights with my cousins and watching Lethal Weapon with my Uncle Tom are good memories.    Many countless memories at my Aunt Pat’s house.   Crushing Doritos, feeding ponies, playing “Jason” in the woods with her sons Brian and Andy (my brothers), listening to Nascar races on the radio, enjoying my other Uncle Tom’s tea  and all night Nintendo fests with Blades of Steel, Double Dribble and Ikari Warriors.  The all nighters were probably courtesy of that sweet tea and numerous sodas that we often brushed our teeth with. 

Days like today make me want to go back to those innocent days.   No bills, no appointments, no responsibility and no commitments.   Days where I could wipe my mouth on my shirt, eat however many Ho Hos I wanted to and drink copious amounts of Kool Aid.  Days when the sound of the Ice Cream man was the only thing I heard other than my Mom or Dad calling me in at night.   Riding bikes, shooting bottle rockets of the balcony, walking to 7-11 to get the Biggest Gulp I could carry and sneaking into a neighborhood pool.   I could go on and on but that would take many blogs and a lot of my time here at work.   Besides, I always carry a viewfinder in my head to flip through all the good times.  Times are good now and 20 years now, I’ll look back and laugh at the fact that I wrote this blog while working.   And no matter what technology is out there, I’ll still use my viewfinder. 

Dreaming of SPAM....

 .  I'm not sure what to say or how to explain exactly why I have dreamt of it but to use a parlance of our times, it is what it is.  Let me clarify though.  The entire dream isn't regarding Spam.  It just seems to pop up here and there.  One night I dreamt of it being used as a weapon, another night it was a centerpiece at a dinner I was at and a few months ago I dreamt a Spam monster attacked me at a carnival.  Again, I have no idea why but it's caused me to think a bit more about Spam and what characteristics it has that seem to enchant and also haunt my subconscious.  The first question that came to mind was what the hell is SPAM?

Spam is defined as
Canned precooked meat product made by the Hormel foods corporation. The labeled ingredients in the classic variety of Spam are chopped pork shoulder meat, with ham meat added, salt, water, modified potato starch as a binder, and sodium nitrate as a preservative. Spam's gelatinous glaze, or aspic appearance, forms from the cooling of meat stock. The product has become part of many jokes and urban legends about mystery meat which has made it part of pop culture and folklore.  A Hormel official stated that the name originated from the ingredients "shoulder of pork and ham"

Did you read that?   "Chopped pork shoulder meat" sounds damn good doesn't it?   I bet it would go well with some cream of sheepball soup!    The ingredients of the Spam are quite nasty but not one time while I read those words was I enchanted or intrigued.  In fact, I wasn't even surprised.  So why?  Why does Spam turn up in my dreams?   It's not like I ate it as a kid.   I ate some deviled ham here and there but never delved into the world of Spam.  You think I jest?   No.  No.  Surely I don't. 

Upon further research on the subject, I find the....Spam Jam!  Yes that's right.  There is a festival celebrating said meat.  Spam Jam is real and there are actually two festivals.  One occurs in Austin, Minnesota which is home to the headquarters of Hormel Foods.  In past events, such stars as James Belushi, Kurtwood Smith( of Robocop and 70s show fame) and the Science Guy Bill Nye.   The second Spam Jam occurs in Waikiki, Hawaii which for some reason reminds me of Spam.   All of this is fascinating stuff but again...why am i dreaming of it?  As a last resort, I consult a dream dictionary. 

According to the dream dictionary, dreaming of meat or having meat could represent obstacles or discouragements that I may come across as I move toward achieving goals.  It may also reflect untamed, animalistic tendencies and raw emotions.  Hmmmmmmm.    Well damn.  Never quite thought of it that way and I will not confirm or deny that analysis's relevance in my life. 

In summary, I have reached zero conclusion as to why Spam appears in my dreams.  It could be that I'm hungry, it could be that I am apprehensive of future goals, it could be that I'm a raw animal beast, it could simply be a sign that I need to pursue a career in additives, preservatives or meat in general.  Perhaps I'm the guy who's going to invent the next meat snack.  Meat in a cup?  Meat on a stick?  Meat chewing gum?   Perhaps a new action hero called Pete Meat who fights evil spoiled meat?    I will give you this nugget.   Tonight's dinner will be none other than....SPAM and all its gelatinous glory!   Call me if you want some.  Hitting Costco after work...

Long Duk Dong Overdue...

Greetings and Salutations my gracious readers and followers!  All four of you will be happy to know I'm alive and somewhat well.  This blog is still alive as well.  Been a long time I know but it seems I underestimated the whole concept of having a full schedule and the phrase "time flies" was never quite understood until recently.  That being said, it's about time for a blog entry and just catch the world up on all things Greg in a humorous fashion.  At least I like to think its humorous.

So let's see.  I am almost through year one of graduate school.  Been swell but I have to admit, it's damn hard.  It's a higher learning this brain may not be meant to achieve but here I sit talking about the actual completion of one year.   Will he make it?  Sure he will.  In one piece?  Sure.  Pickled like an egg with all my hair falling out?  Probably that too.  At least I will have more education and hopefully more money to buy silly, non essential items like the fourth season of Murder she Wrote! 

In other news, The CuckooLounge is doing well.  Not as busy as I'd like it to be but I find time to dally in it.  We are currently scoring a short film I cowrote (shameless self plugging)  and also scoring a trailer that is seeking funding to be made into a feature length movie.  Full details to come. 

The term cancer has all kinds of new meaning to me. It always resonated as negative to me over the years but also over the years people close to me starting getting it.  Now I not only understand it but I want to fight against it in any way possible.  A blog will be coming soon on this.  I could go on and on..

And of course, it wouldnt be a Orrenism without a funny story.  So I recently bought a soda at the local WaWa.  I am standing in line and reach into my pocket to get cash to pay for the aforementioned soda.  A dollar falls from my pocket and an old homeless guy picks it up.  I think to myself   "It's a buck.  Let him have it and besides that hand looks like it was making brownies recently".   Well before those thoughts could reach my lips, he takes the dollar and puts it back in my pocket for me.  DEEP in my pocket for about three seconds.   We stood eye to eye for a few of those seconds.  My eyes slightly wide, mouth agape.  His eyes, squinted due to the enormous grin on his face.  Two men, two differnt expressions, two different feelings, one dollar.   Who knew all it took was a dollar to get in my pants...........pocket?    And what does the cashier do in this situation?    He says "That'll be $1.05."   Ha.  The hell you say.  I lost more than that in this transaction!   Until next time America, Canada and Lithuania!

Random thoughts on Don's Johns!

Now that my grad school career is done and over with, I find my myself with random thoughts on random things on random days. Actually, not random days. Every single day.  The way that my mind works is much like a pinball in a machine.  It moves fast and when hit with the proper force, it will head in a totally different direction quickly.   Call it A.D.D., call it scatterbrained or call it genius (Spit your Whatever it is, that's how it works.  When i started this blog, I had a gazillion ideas and topics and still do.  The problem I encountered was time and the lack of it.  I would see things, think about them and then try to write a standard blog about them but would watch the clock.  Then i remembered that when blogging, there are no rules.  One can write about earthquakes or one can say two words on the state of  Idaho.  That being said, here are some quick hitters I pondered recently... 

1.  Just admit it.  You have never heard of the band.  
I used to do this when I was younger.  We all did...then.  However, it's alive and well in my adulthood. Cringeworthy when I hear a conversation like this.  Own it people. Just own the unknown.  It's ok.  I don't know the hidden track on Britney Spears fourth album.  There.  I admitted it. Guilty as charged.  Please read the convo example below taking place in a car with radio on.

Harry- "LoI love music.  Especially underground music.  Ever heard of  "Mamma's BigBunionBand?"
Sack- "Uhhh..yeah.  Yeah.  They are really good"
Harry-  "Oh?  They are good.  Hard to believe they are from Iceland huh?"
Sack-  "haha. Yeah.  Hard to believe!   I loved their second album"
Harry-  "Huh?  They just came out with first record yesterday"
Sack-  "Oh.  Well I meant their second album will be good!" 


2.  Fast food Drive throughs
-  It's for convenience and saving time.  It's not the line you get in to order a medium rare burger with a slightly toasted bun with only one tomato, no onions and your ketchup on the side.  Lest we forget the lemon wedge garnish.  It's designed for #1,#2, #3 and a coke.  Super sizing is your only choice.  By the time you hit the speaker, you should know what you want.   And multiple orders for 12 people each requiring a receipt?   Get your a** out of the car and go inside.

3.  Age is just a number. 
It really is people.  It's just a number for years we've been alive.  I don't think it's a marker of ability, talent, ambition or more importantly limitations.   And in the affairs of love, does age matter?   If a girl is 18 and he's 46, probably yes.  If she's 23 and he's 37?   Who cares?   My point?  Live your life, chase your dreams and eat ice cream off a body part of your gf/bf.   Don't let anyone tell you that you are too old or young to do things.  Diapers fit all ages.  

4.  Facebook isn't that serious.
-I post on facebook for comedy.  I admit it.  I put stuff on there for my entertainment and possibly others. It's who I am. I'm a goofball and facebook is sometimes a platform to convey that.  I hearken back to the days of dating my ex when she said "some of your FB posts are inappropriate and people may take them seriously".  Really?  they do?  When i put "my finger smells like my nose", someone really takes that to heart?   If so, I'm sorry.  People use FB for many things.  Some tell you they just ate a sandwich, some posts let others know a person is sick, pregnant, no longer pregnant or pissed off at Sarah for watching HoneyBooBoo without her.  If you want to get sympathy, solace or feel the need to get your feelings out with a post like "My heart is empty and my eyes won't stop raining", do it.  If you want to post about how you farted in an elevator and your boss liked it and began flirting, awesome.  I'll "like" either of your posts.  

5.  Don Jon Upgrade
-We have curling irons that can also brush your hair, we have cars that can parallel park and for that matter, drive for you and recently we had a man skydive from space and LIVED.  Why can't we upgrade the Don Johns of the world?   There's gotta be a way to improve the quality and design of them.  I understand some of it is necessity and cost effective but what about a real mirror?  Not a glass one but at least one that isn't a fun house mirror.  And how about water that doesn't stain your arm when you drop your phone?   .  

!

Twinkie Love

I'd like to take a moment to honor one of the greatest American snack cakes in the world.  Yes that's right people.  I'm talking about the Twinkie!   According to Wikipedia, it's marketed as the "golden sponge cake with cream filling".  Wikipedia also states that the Twinkie was born in 1930 in Schiller Park, Illinois.  I don't care where those beautiful babies were "born".  I love them.  Always have.   The little fat boy in me once crushed a box of them in one day.  That's right.  ONE DAY.

I mean in the pantheon of snack cakes, the Twinkie may not be your first choice but in my mind, it's the only choice.  Ho-ho's are nice.   The Nutty bars are excellent.   Even the original Hostess cupcakes are lovely but the Twinkie?  It's Americana baby!   Find me one person who hasn't tried a twinkie and I'll find you a midget who won a high jump contest.  There's apple pie, baseball, obesity and the twinkie.  

Don't worry about the fact that ingredients found in the twinkie are mostly preservatives and that some of those preservatives can only be mined from the earth.  Yes I said MINED.   Here is a link to a book that explains this all.  http://www.twinkiedeconstructed.com/Twinkiewebsite/Welcome.html   
I don't care what its made of. I love them.  They aren't healthy or good for me but they are there for me and would survive a nuclear explosion.  

And they actually inspired "The Twinkie Defense" by which the accused claimed that eating a lot of junk food i.e. twinkies caused temporary insanity.  They have never made me crazy but when I was much younger (34 or 35?), I did open a box of them at a local 7-11 and began to enjoy one of them in the aisle while wearing a midriff.   Alcohol is to blame for most of that night but the midriff is probably a result of a deep seeded love for Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island.  Err...uh.  Moving on.

 By the way, have i told how much i love to blog?   I love that I can type about twinkies and someone out there will know my feelings about them by day's end.  That is if they got this far.

The Last Girl Scout...

Been a while since I last wrote a blog and I figured why not pick a topic that is both relative to all of us and currently in our sights.   That's right.  I'm talking about girl scouts.  More importantly, the cookies these little ladies sell.  We all know them.  We've all had them.  Some more than others.   That's where I fall.  I'm the guy with no kids (that I'm aware of) who buys boxes and boxes of them.  I usually buy them from neighbors, friends or ladies I work with who sell them for their kids.   I'm told that it helps to raise funds for activities, the troops and other things.   I firmly believe this and I know the intentions are pure and true.  That is until I had this dream last night.  If the dream had a title, it would be "The Last Girl Scout" 

It was a foggy night and I was heading to Giant to buy deodorant.  I'd say it was maybe midnight or so.  As I walked to the entrance, there stood the girl scouts at their table which in the dream was more like a judge's bench.  I remember giving them a quick glance but kept walking.  That was probably because in this dream, I was wearing swimming trunks, flip flops and a turtleneck.  Maybe it was embarrassment or the temperature but I remember a quick glance and then darting to the door which of course was running from me while i ran towards it.   One girl scout who seemed much bigger and much too old to be in the girl scouts shouted at me.  It was garbled but sounded like "Be a man.  Buy some cookies.  Looks like you have been for years anyway."   I ignored her observations and reached the door.  The store was a haze and I remember buying milk, fruity pebbles, a toilet scrubber and D batteries.  When I come out, it's still dark and now it's raining.  The table full of girl scouts are gone but one remains.  The more mature and possibly mutant girl scout stood ominously in front of me.   She seemed larger than when i first entered the store.  This is when things took a nightmarish turn.

She loomed large and all I could think to do was run like a frightened jackrabbit.  I tried to run around her but her arm extended much like Inspector Gadget's and clotheslined me.   I hit the ground hard and my milk soiled my turtleneck which had now become a Member's only jacket.  I got up quickly and started running for what seemed like miles.   I am almost to my car when I am struck in the back of the head with a box of Samoas.  They weren't your normal weight of course.  In the dream, they resembled a brick.   The blow to the head took me off my feet and I ended up in a bush filled with butterscotch.   I could hear loud footsteps coming towards me and I could make out a large figure through the shrubs.  I could see her taking something off..perhaps her sash.   She started swinging it and it hit my bush and I flew into what must have been the unknown.  That is when I woke up. 

I have tried to collect the details all day.  That's what I came up with.  It's 100% true and I am hoping it makes you think about buying cookies when you see them outside of Giant, the Post Office or any establishment.  On the outside, they are the cute adorable kids supporting a cause.   On the inside, there is possibly a more sinister and darker agenda being performed.  I've seen it!  I saw it in her eyes last night!  It's pure evil and it's out there.   Just buy a box.   Samoas, Tag a longs, Thin Mints or even those new nasty ones.  Do it before she comes for you.   Don't make the Last Girl Scout become legend! 

Natalie Imbruglia was my first...

Natalie Imbruglia was my first adventure in one hit wonderdom.  That's right.  I'm that guy that sees a pretty girl in a music video and runs out to by the album.  Two reasons I do this.  The first is obvious but if not, I'll explain.  I do it because I hope that within those precious CD inserts lies more pictures of her.   I know this sounds juvenile and somewhat pervish but I'm only speaking the truth and quite frankly I am probably speaking for many.  If not, live vicariously through me fellow men.    The second reason I do it is the hope that the rest of the CD is whoopass and  I've jumped the gun on what could be the greatest album of the year.  I did this with Nelly Furtado's first album and was ahead of the curve successfully.  Natalie however, taught me a valuable lesson in music, money and life.   Beauty is only skin deep or in this case paper thin.

We've all been there right?   Chumbawumba.  Semisonic.  The SugarHill Gang.  Aha.  Devo.  Deep Blu Something.  Even my hero Patrick Swayze (God rest his soul) is the owner of one.   Now of course these artists had other songs and some were even hits albeit not in America and not mainstream.   And some of the hardcore fans of the aforementioned bands would argue that these bands have made quality underground, original music since these hits.  Some would even say the one hit wonder destroyed them and they rebuilt themselves after the fall.  Whatever the case, we've all been bitten once or twice by the hype of a song which compelled us to run out to Sam Goody's and buy Biz Markie.  Yep.  The album with "Just a friend"?  I own it.

Not to get off topic here even though I am, I actually have very few albums with tons of great songs on them.  Older albums I can definitely do that with.   The Clash's London Calling for example.  The newer stuff seems to filled with a few quality tracks and a lot of filler.   Some of the newer rap/hip hop albums have so many contributions from other artists that it feels a lot like eating a twinkie.  No real substance in there.  It goes without saying that we are a fickle society and one that gets bored easily.  We like a song and then we move on to the next.  Very few songs have the staying power.   I haven't been bitten by the one hit wonder curse in quite some time.  Thanks to Itunes, I buy songs one hit at a time now.  There's a few artists that I love dearly that I'll go that extra buck for.  311, DMB, Beck, The Chili Peppers etc.   What I'm saying is this.  Be selective out there.   Lots of muck amongst some good music out there.  Your tried and trues will guide you but be careful of the Daniel Powders and Vertical Horizons.   And no I didn't buy those.  I did buy Willa Ford though.

The Legend of Law!

There's a legend heard around these parts.   A legend that has been growing strong for over 35 years.   The legend tells the tale of a man born from the seed of Gods mixed with some foolish homeless clown.  It's not important where he came from.   The important thing here is that this legend is no legend.  It's real.  He's real.  I know this because I live with him.   In fact, I've known him for over twenty years.  In those twenty years, I've seen it all.  I can't speak about all but I'd like to take a few paragraphs to describe the 9th wonder of the world, The King of sting, the punk of funk, the foolish heart deluxe, the ubiquitous avalanche of calamity that walks the streets at night!   Where should I begin?

For starters, he keeps tuna in the fridge.  Normal right?  Yeah it's normal to keep tuna in the fridge after its taken OUT of the can.  My friend here keeps tuna in the fridge in the can unopened.   This legend also once tried a can of beer and decided it didn't taste right.   What did he add to this most popular beverage among males and females worldwide?   Orange juice.  Yep.  He took one beverage of choice and added Vitamin C.  His logic?   Trying to stay healthy.   Ahhh..moving on.  We're in the winter months these days and lots of people experience dry skin.  Fact of life.  Cold, dry air causes our skin to lose moisture.  Sometimes it's downright tragic when your  elbows look like a rhinoceros ass.  Personally, I haven't seen my elbows since the last time I wrecked a Huffy.  If you're concerned about ash and dry skin, look no further than my roommate.   He is always equipped with lotion during winter months.  But wait..there's more!   He has lotion during all the months.  All 12 of them.  He carries it with him at all times.  Most recently, he brought a large bottle to a Superbowl party and offered up moisturizer.  I'm certain if you watch him closely, he probably has a bottle in every corner of the house, car, workplace, tool shed, etc.   Who knows?  He could have lotion planted around the city for emergencies.  Fact.

Now this fellow is also the guy I work with on many, many productions and he is the other half of the Cuckoo Lounge.  We do everything from comedic skits, voice overs, music, photography and coloring eggs.  Needless to say, if one is involved in the arts there is a certain degree of dramatic and theatric talent needed.  Law takes it to an entirely different level.    Please read the following exchange below.

Me: What up man?
Law:  (huffing, breathing heavily).   hey man...
Me:   Damn bro.  You ok?
Law:   Yeah man..just tired and.....i just made a decision today.
Me:  Ummm...ok.  what's going on?   (thinking something serious has occurred here)
Law:  I...umm....decided....to cancel the call waiting feature on the home line.

Yeah.  Notice the dramatics there?   He comes in with the urgency but leaves you with the confusion.  I'll give him this.  It's entertaining and we're currently writing a skit about it.   OH and one more thing.  One more thing the truly, truly makes the legend what it is today.  Law is a lover man.  I mean this.  He is a true lover man.   He gives love.   HARD.  If his woman were a pancake and Law was syrup, she would smother.  He lays it down.   He is the most loving, sensitive, caring man I've ever met.  The only other person I've met in my life that was on his level was a lunch lady i befriended in middle school. She also used a lot of lotion.  

My point?   Law is legend and the legend is Law.  Law is also a unique, creative, intelligent cat who doesn't give himself enough credit or recognition.   He's also a kind individual for putting up with my shenanigans over the years because let's be honest here people.  I'm not a Saint and clearly not void of issues.  He actually endorsed this blog and I read him every word.  Except for this one: normal.  He hates that word!

I love you!!!!

I've decided that I love you.  I love you for reading this sentence.  I love you for reading this one as well.  I love mountain dew, lasagna, Blue Moon, my blackberry, windy summer nights, horror films, The Breakfast Club, The Royal Tenenbaums and the Clash.  I also love long car rides, slow cashiers, slow drivers, the waitress that forgot my mayonnaise and the way that my shirt wrinkles after I've ironed it for 20 minutes.  I've hated these things in the past but today I'm grateful that they are in my life and that I'm alive to have them happen. 

Within the last 24 hours, I found out there were two shootings in my hometown that took the lives of people I once knew.  Then in a separate instance, a childhood friend of mine was shot and is in I.C.U.  Now if you've read any of the previous blogs, I thank you immensely.  If you read them and took something from them, you'll realize I like to paint things with a humorous brush and don't wax poetic on things that are too political, too religious or too serious.   The point of writing blogs for me is to shed light on the silly things that cross my mind.   This whole ordeal crossed my mind and has stayed and isn't going anywhere anytime soon.  Aside from the sorrow I feel for the friends and families of the affected, I gained perspective on my own life and realized what we all should.  Life is short and certainly not guaranteed. 

So today I decided to really take a hard look at what's important in my life and who matters the most.  I found it to be a long list which I'm grateful for.  And it's a good thing.  I have a lot to be thankful for and have some lifelong friends that have dealt with my silliness for years.  My family is the best.  No contest.  I'm alive, breathing and walking.  I even have gas in my tank and also in my butt.  (Sorry..had to throw that in there).  So I implore you to look at your life and be thankful for all you have.  I also think we should not want what we don't have but rather want what we already have. 

No matter how piss poor you think your life is, someone out there would gladly trade theirs.   If any of this comes across as wishy washy or cliche, I offer no apologies.  Writing with no regrets today feels damn good and isn't that what life is all about?  Feeling good about what you do and what you have?  If not, get your head out of your ass and look around.  The world waits for no one and time flies by.  As Stephen Stills once sang, "Love the ones you're with".   Gotta go.  Just saw the cleaning lady.  She needs a hug. 

I farted and she left me....

I definitely don't consider myself a ladies man but once in a blue moon, I'll catch a girl giving me the eyeball.  First thing that comes to mind is that I might have a booger on my face or that I'm strange looking or that she might be confusing me for Clay Aiken.   Last night, one of those moments occurred.  WARNING!!!!!!The following scenario should not be mocked, copied or tried in the privacy of your own lives. 

I went to the gym recently and started stretching and for some reason, I stretched for a longer time than usual.  Let's call it a preventive measure.  I got on a treadmill and started my usual slow jog to one the greatest workout songs of all time.  Wait for it.....Rocky IV training montage!  The girl next to me was walking at a fast pace and I could kind of sense she was looking at me.  So I looked over and she smiled and said hi.  I said hello back and maintained my pace while checking my face/nose for boogers.  A small conversation ensued and then she picked up her pace.  I decide to hit the increase speed button to perhaps show her that I too was a runner and of course to keep up. 

 HOWEVER, I ate something before i went to the gym.  Something that, well, causes pressure in the abdomen.   Ok, I'll cut to the chase.  As I ran faster, I farted.  It wasn't loud but then again, that Rocky montage was in mid to high tempo so I couldn't tell if it was audible or not.  What i could tell is that she started slowing down her speed and got of her treadmill with the haste of an unmasked soldier in a gas chamber.  I kept looking at her frantically, hoping, praying that it wasn't me that drove her away.  Maybe she cramped or maybe she got a phone call, text  or something made her stop her glorious pace!   Then I noticed the old man at the end of the row also stopped running.  The look on his face told me that he had been hit with something that he had never smelled in his sixty some years.  He too, hopped off with the urgency. 

Feeling quite shamed at this point, I kept my head straight and kept on truckin'.  About ten minutes went by and another outstanding running song, "She shook me all night long" by AC/DC came on the Ipod.  I picked up my pace.  The Ipod came loose and flew behind me.  ARGGHHH.  I get off and go to pick it up and a pretty young gal picked it up for me.  She hands it to me and says "Here's your...umm..Madonna."   The Ipod wasn't locked and when dropped or thrown will shuffle.   (Yes. I admit.  There's Madonna on there.  Like two songs.  Sue me alright?  It's not Elton John)      I sheepishly said  "Thanks" as she smirked and went to the furthest machine from me.  I got back on the treadmill and started jogging to something more my speed  Jay Z's "Girls, girls, girls".  The lesson here?  Don't eat anything heavy before a run and remove all Madonna songs from your Ipod.   My life won't change though.  I'll be running again tonight.....outdoors. 

I ask you one question. Who are "THEY"?

I just want to know who "they" are.  Everyone refers to "they" but who are "they"?  "They say it's bad to eat foods after 9pm".   You're probably right in listening to them but who are "They"?  Is this the Food and Drug Administration?  Is this Liz Crenshaw from Channel 4 news at 5pm?  Or is this some rogue dietary street gang that will come in your home and beat you senseless with a bag of apples?  I've just recently noticed how many times in a day I hear the word "they". 

I'm starting to wonder if "They" is some sort of secret society that lives underground and whispers things to us through the ground.   Or maybe in our dreams?  Through fortune cookies?  Or maybe these "they" folks are secretly controlling our world one piece of advice at a time?  Whoever "they" are, they seem to have their say in everything.  "They" also say we shouldn't eat lots of bacon, pee in the wind, eat candy for breakfast, stand behind a horse, eat too much tuna, date your best friend's girl etc.  I mean some of it is common sense and we as a whole know most of these things but who are "they" to say anything?   Speaking of "they", they say that your job's IT department monitors everything you do on the internet.  That being said, I better get off here.  That's what "they" say anyways. 

I want to be in a band. Who's with me?

Yep. It's true.  I want to be in a band before it's all said and done.  I don't think i'm alone on this one either.  At one point or another, we've all dreamt of being a rock star.  The money, the fame, the girls (or boys for the girls out there reading this one or for the boys out there reading this.  Wait..what?) and all the perks a rock star often gets.  I think everyone and their mother (including my own) wanted to be a rock star while growing up.  We all grew up pretending to sing, play air guitar or play those imaginary drums.   Well I'm good at air guitar and halfway decent at Rock Band 2 and currently own two guitars which also double has hat racks currently.  Not saying I want to be a rock star but I do want to be in a band at some point in my life.

Maybe I should clarify this.  I don't know how to play an instrument very well.  I know a few chords on the geetar but let's face it.  Everyone does and I don't want to be that guy that claims to be a guitar player and then gets challenged at a bonfire and ends up playing a three chord acoustic version of "Blister in the Sun" by Violent Femmes.  I aspire to be the guy who knows his way around a guitar and back.    I envision myself being in a band and playing for a bbq, someone's birthday party or perhaps a party for someone who graduated from Subway University.  Real by the way.

I'm thinking a band that's a little Bloodhound Gang with a shot of Greenday and stirred with a few straws such as Bob Marley, Disturbed and 311.  Something easy on the ears but has some zing to it.  Who knows?  I'm just dreaming at this point.  I don't have time to shower let alone learn guitar.  Ok I do shower but my point is this band won't be playing anytime soon.  However, if their are aspiring rock stars out there who are looking for an elder statesman in the somewhat near future, i'm your guy.  Ponder it guys and gals.  I'll be playing the six string and can do back up vocals.  We should name it something cool and obscure too.  Something like.....The Jamaican Jerk Chicken Band!!!!!!

Is that a beard you're wearing? Can I have it?

Ever since I was a small boy, I have wanted a beard.  When I was growing up my father had a moustache and still does today.  I'd ask him if it hurt to wear and he'd say "I'm not wearing one, I grew it".  Of course, that set my mind off in a frenzy.  I asked him how he grew it.   He said he just woke up each day and more hair appeared there.  I was even more fascinated!    So each day, I woke up looking for this hair to appear.  Each day, I'd wake up to disappointment.  It got the point where I was asking Santa Claus for a beard.  Instead, he got me a magnifying glass to scour my upper lip, chin and cheeks for those impending hairs. 

My senior year of high school, I decided to grow whatever I could grow out of my lip.  The result?  A very, very poor attempt at a moustache.  For proof, check out my high school pic on Facebook.  My next serious attempt at a moustache or beard was in 2002 during a road trip.  I didn't shave once!  The result?  A patchy mess of a beard.  I kind of looked like I glued hair to my face.  Sexy and a look the ladies couldn't resist but somehow did.  Once i got off the trip, I shaved and life went on. 

Early 2010, I tried a moustache after being told by many beard growers that you must start small.  The moustache actually started coming in but nothing else on my damn face would!  It would reach the stubble length and then fizz out.  I laughed, cried and shaved again.  Now here we are in 2011 and I'm still wanting that beard.  I want a beard and want to grow my hair out at times too. Not sure why.  Maybe I want to be like my Pops.  Maybe it's a challenge to me.  I always like the challenge of things in life.  At any rate, don't be surprised if you see me this summer rockin' a beard and longer hair.  I have a wedding in May so that's likely when I'd decide to start the growth...again.  If it looks bad, tell me.  If it looks good, tell me.  If it's hard to tell me, just drop subtle gifts at my door like razors, shaving cream, mirrors or Miracle Gro. 

Moving Violations Part One

There are several things i'll write about over the lifetime of this blog.  Women, 80s movies, falconry, underwater basket weaving and naked midget thumbwrestling are a few examples.  The topic of the traffic could be a recurring theme and probably could have a blog of its own.  My fellow brother and I (Greg Law for those that didn't know we were twins) have talked about making a traffic documentary.  Something that would encapsulate the daily traffic annoyances of this greater DC, MD and VA area.  With the help of my cousin Wolf, we came up with some nicknames for certain types of driving behaviors.  For example, a "constipator" would be someone who waits until the last minute to merge in situations where two lanes are to become one thus constipating the flow of traffic.  For today's blog, I'll concentrate solely on the lost skill of using your turn signal.

The turn signal is located to the right of your steering wheel.  As you may or may not know, the steering wheel is used to steer the vehicle you are driving.  In some sheer moment of genius, automakers decided to create a turn signal light to indicate which direction a driver was going to turn.   Designed as early as 1907 and patented in 1938.  This signal or indicator as its often referred to as is also located extremely close to that steering wheel thing i mentioned earlier.  This also was by design so that you have almost no trouble sliding your hand down the steering wheel and pushing the plastic stem up or down depending on your direction.   Brilliant!  It allows you to let other drivers know where you're heading and you don't take your eyes off the road!  Sounds easy right?

IT'S NOT.   It's extremely difficult from what i'm seeing on the road and driving next to.  The difficulty is right up there with Calculus and juggling chainsaws.  Maybe they are on the phone and can't tear away from the intense discussion regarding the latest episode of Jersey Shore.  You know the one where Snooki sets her own hair on fire for attention and then eats a pickle in front of a high school football team?  Or maybe the booger they're picking takes two hands to get? Maybe I'm supposed to notice which hand they are using and that's their way of signaling a turn.  OR they think i can read their mind?!?  If I could read minds, I could have worked things out with about 12 of my ex girlfriends or would probably know what exactly was eating Gilbert Grape!      Whatever the case, the turn signal has become just another thing to hang tassles or air fresheners on.    I could go on and on but I won't.  That could take all night and there will be other parts to this ongoing series anyway.  So do me a favor.  Use your signal tomorrow.  At least once for me.  It could change your life or at least help you change lanes properly.  Orren out!

I'm in therapy...

Haha.  That brought you in to read this didn't it?   There are probably some friends of mine that wish i would get some therapy but so far none of that is occuring.  However, I've come to notice this blog writing has become a form of therapy for me.  I mean most of the time it's mere observations I take on the daily basis and hopefully describe them in a humorous fashion.  A few here and there are actually going to be a lot of venting on my part such as the "Iron Man" post or the wildly popular "Definition of a Douchebag" post.  I feel passionate about both topics and I found myself kind of relieved to get it out much like the 5 day old Chinese I ate two nights ago. 

I know that several things in life can be used to relieve stress or provide closure to issues we might be having.  Maybe since I'm busy with school, work, running (too much), guitaring (barely), women (barely), Call of Duty (not nearly enough), this blog is not only a creative outlet but also a tool to help clear my mind of all the fuzz.   Just last night I sat for an entire 10 minutes trying to recollect how I bought Fletch Lives versus the original Fletch.  Instead of pondering that thought, why not write about it here?  Or more importantly, blog about why i feel the need to buy material things that only make me happy for 90 minutes.  My point?  This blog is therapy for me.  So some blogs will be about the twinkie and some might be about how "the game" we play in matters of love is retarded and unnecessary.  I gotta get it out folks!  I hope you'll understand, appreciate and take it all in.  Unless of course, it is actually the 5 day old chinese food I ate two nights ago.  Does it make any difference if it was refrigderated?  By way of outside on my porch? 

My first crush...

I remember like it was yesterday. Her name was Stephanie...something.  She was the prettiest girl in the 3rd grade.  Even back then I aimed for the stars.  We were on the playground at Weems Elementary and I was playing Transformers with another kid.  Think his name was David?  Anyway, I was Optimus Prime and he was Megatron and we battled it out under the jungle gym.  At this age, that jungle gym seemed larger than life and somewhat like a giant castle.  At the top of this castle was Stephanie.

 She was sort of perched in a way that resembled a fair maiden looking in the distance for her knight in shining armor to rescue her from her playground prison.  As i battled David Megatron, I would sneak looks at her.  You see in my mind, Stephanie was actually watching me battle Megatron.  So right after I defeated Megatron, I climbed halfway up the jungle gym and said to her "You are the prettiest girl in the world".   She stopped gazing in the distance and looked down at me.   I smiled back.  She then took her gaze upward again and said the words that would haunt me for years.  "You stink".  Yep.  The first time i poured my heart out to a woman, she told me I smelled.  This was a crushing blow and my first real lesson about women.  This first lesson also produced my first tears over a woman.

After the crushing my crush gave me, I marched myself behind one of the brick columns of my school and cried.  However, it also taught me that you win some and you lose some.  I won the battle with Megatron but lost the battle with Stephanie. One day that will be reversed!   I just have to find Megatron..I mean David.

I love Jack. Did you know that?

I love Jack Nicholson.  The guy is my idol.  The man I would love to be someday.  It probably won't happen because for starters, I actually want to get married, have kids and have a somewhat normal life.  Secondly, I'm not an actor.  I've dabbled.  Been in a few feature films, short films, self made skits etc ( was that bragging?) but wouldn't call myself an actor let alone a successful one. 

Jack has led the life most of us guys dream of.    He's been in hundreds of movies and has won an Oscar twice.  He's not just cool.  He's an icon.  He's a ladies man.  Always has been.  The guy has dated a bevy of beauties and these are only the ones we know of.  He's what most Hollywood stallions yearn to be.  He's also the guy who goes to all the Laker games wearing sunglasses to the game, during the game and after the game. A reporter  once asked him to take off his shades for a picture.  Jack said "You're new here aren't you?"

I didn't know this until recently but Jack has been the first choice of many directors for parts in movies.  For example, he was offered Gene Hackman's role in Hoosiers, Billy Bob Thornton's role in Bad Santa and get this...Robert Redford's role in The Sting.  Nuts.  He has basically been a go to guy for a lot of flicks. The name Jack is even cool isn't it?  Think I'll name my first born Jack.  Any takers?????

Ready for a remake of Iron Man????

Alright this madness must end.  Hollywood has clearly run out of ideas.  How do i know this?  Because they are planning a remake of "Meatballs".   Yes. That's right.   Meatballs.  The cheesy 80s summer camp comedy that evolved into a franchise.  This shouldn't happen but it will.  So will Poltergeist, Red Dawn, Footloose, Conan the Barbarian, Starfighter, Total Recall, The Dirty Dozen and Back to School.  Wait a minute.  Back to School?

You can't do that.  I mean you can't!  How in the hell can you remake a movie like that?  The movie was essentially driven by Rodney Dangerfield.  You cannot duplicate that man nor the performance.  Classic fish out of water story and putting Rodney in any movie felt like a fish out of water story.  My point is that some movies are sacred and frozen in time.   They are incapable of being reproduced, revisioned, re-imagined or rebooted which has become the new phrase in movie making these days.  For a movie freak like me, its painful like having that salad fork in your if you will.  Hopefully you will accept the phrase and not my cherry but then again...never mind. It's getting late.

Now don't get me wrong.  Some movies that have been remade or rebooted have been excellent.  The new Batman franchise for example.  Rob Zombie's vision of the Halloween franchise wasn't bad either.  The A Team, I felt was a good action flick with a nice nod to the original tv series.  Adaptions have done pretty well but mostly of the comic book or novel variety.  The aforementioned Iron Man and series like Harry Potter, Narnia and the beloved (not by me)Twilight series.  Their success is a sign of things to come though unfortunately.  Just please don't touch the Goonies, the Breakfast Club, The Shining or Roadhouse.  Remake something that missed its mark or took a wrong turn somewhere in its story.  LOST for example!

The Mystery of the Douchebag....unsolved.

I went out drinking one night with the roommate and we observed one of our favorite bartenders kissing her boyfriend.  Our convo went as follows:
Big Greg "That dude is with her?". 
Little Greg   "I know right?  What a douchebag!".  
Big Greg (laughing) "What's a douchebag?" 
Little Greg   "That dude right there is!  Come on man!"
Big Greg (looking confused) "Well how is he a douchebag??"

Then it hit me.  I don't really have a working defintion of a douchebag.  I know some characteristics of one but couldn't explain it to my roomie.  It's a term a lot of us these days to kind of cover the jerk to a**hole behaviors we see on the daily.  And I realize I use it a lot.  Sometimes I even shorten it to doosh as in "what a doosh".  I mean what the hell is a douchebag?  Who is a douchebag?   I'll try to describe him but ultimately I'm open to suggestions or thoughts.   Hope I don't offend anyone and if so, I strongly suggest you fix it.  Here he goes. 

Is he the guy who wears extremely tight shirts to purposely show off the guns? .  Is he the guy who has the cheezy come on lines at bars  "Come here often?  I don't either because of my MMA fights".  Speaking of MMA, is he the guy who claims to be training for fights and his record is 0 wins, 0 losses?   Is he the guy who back door brags?  For those that don't know that one, it's when someone brags about themselves but sneaks it in the sentence. Ex:  "It's hard for me to watch football because their techniques are simplistic compared to when i played".  Is he also the guy who claims to have seen a movie but when asked his opinion on it suddenlly has loss of memory?  

The truth is I dont know!  I only know when I see the guy.  For the most part, they aren't terrible people.  They are probably insecure on some level and do or say things to compensate for that lack of security.   Someone may have called me a douchebag at some point in my life.  If so, I wish they would've told me.  So when you're out tonight, look for them.  If you feel compelled, talk to them. Coach them up.  They can't see themselves.  Only you and I can.  I'll do my part too.  Perhaps I'll start a Douchebags Anonymous group to be held at in a place with many, many mirrors.  Just hope it's not contagious. 

The Trip that i'm still on....

I used to work at a Juvenile Detention Shelter.  At this shelter, I worked with a lot of great and interesting people.  None more interesting than Mr. Chris Henninger.  From the moment he told me he loved "The Shining" and punk music, I knew we'd be brothers for life.  In January of 2002, he told me about a cross country trip he had taken.   He said you haven't lived until you've driven across the country and he told me he did it by himself.  I said "Pump yo brakes kid.  By yourself?"   He's done it twice.  So from that point forward, I decided to save all the cash I could and make this trip happen.  I was tired of my job, tired of Virginia and ready to test a certain woman's love for me.  In September 2002, I quit my job,  packed up a bunch of stuff (underwear, fruit cups, throwing stars) hopped in my Cherokee (R.I.P.) with a U.S. road map in hand.

Now this could be the part where i describe each and every last detail about the trip but that's not the kind of blog I have rolling here but i'll give you a glimpse.  The trip started in Virginia, slowed down in Jacksonville Florida (Hello Billy), sped up three weeks later and took me to California but not without giving me glimpses of Texas and Arizona by way of Arkansas and Oklahoma.  Probably forgetting something there.  California was my goal and I reached it a month and a half after my start.  Each state that I drove through, I bought a sticker to put on my car which by trip's end looked like gypsy van.  Hell I even had a beard.  The ride back, as all ride backs are, was long and unevenftul.  Only one speeding ticket which occurred in Wyoming.   Let's just it took him a while to catch up to this wily rascal!  And turns out, my legs or cleavage didn't dissuade him.  Coming back to Virginia was a sobering experience but I thought of Chris and what he said.  If I wasn't living before i did it, I surely am now.  Some would say I became a man but come on now.  This is me we're talking about here.

In truth, lots of wonderful and exciting things happened to me because of that trip.  I finally learned that Virginia wasn't the only spot on the map and that there were literally hundreds of  "Manassas" type towns out there.  I felt sad as i typed that. lol.  One stop i made on that trip eventually landed me a dream job.  Thanks to Chrys and Rich Tuttle, I met a wild man named Grubbs who got me gigs as a production assistant on major commercial projects in North Carolina.  Coke, Texaco, Husquvarna, Southwest Airlines, Nascar etc.  OH and remember that girl's love i was trying to test?  (Paragraph 1. Second to last sentence)  Well she finally realized I was gone and called me while I was in NC.  She expressed her feelings and I raced on back to VA.  Three short weeks later I found out she wasn't exactly the love of my life nor faithful.  Sort of like finding out there's a razor blade in your Halloween candy.  You think....who does this to candy corn and has a heart?  Despite its ups, downs, lefts and rights, I wouldn't change a thing and will do the same again with my beautiful wife (insert any joke here).  Well I take that back.  I would change one thing: my underwear.

Why I love Arrested Development!!!!!

First let me clarify. I am not talking about the hip hop group who spawned such hits as "Tennessee", "Mr. Wendal" and "Everyday People".  I am talking about the highly acclaimed but quickly canceled television show that was on Fox from 2003-2006.  It starred numerous characters who have shined over the years, revived Jason Bateman's career, kick started Michael Cera's career and introduced the world to Will Arnett and Portia De Rossi.  Not to mention, Ron Howard narrated it while The Fonz and even Chachi of "Happy Days" fame were in it.

The show is beyond hilarious and was ahead of its time with the handheld camera style of shooting which you see today in shows like the Office and Modern Family.  The show's two strengths are the cast and the writing.  I really can't put one over the other.  On the surface, it's a story about a riches to rags family who struggles with their financially strapped lives.  Jason Bateman's character Michael Bluth serves as the moral compass of the family and is always trying to keep the family together while trying to keep his imprisoned father's company above water.  In my opinion, the genius of the show lies in its writing and how the story is presented.  By that I mean the documentary style shooting with abrupt cutaways that highlight an element of the story like a photo of a character or sometimes a scene from a previous episode in a flashback setting.

I could seriously go on and on about this show. I could reference episodes and quote things to you but it wouldn't give it justice.  So it's quite clear.  Watch them.  I don't even think they are more than $20 bucks now.  Buy it, rent it, borrow it.   Hell I will let you borrow it.  All I ask is you let me know what you think and if you're an attractive ,cute, disease free, sweet smelling woman AND love the show, I'll marry you.  Do it.  Then we can talk about what a "Cornballer" is and no it's not that!    Up next for this blog?  A summary of my cross country trip and the man who inspired it!

31 FLAVORS..........of bacon?

For those that follow me on Facebook, you know that I was recently shopping for a GPS.  For those that don't know me on Facebook, I asked the masses for opinions on which model to buy.  I asked because when i went to do research on one, there were literally HUNDREDS to choose from.  I can sort of accept the variety since they've been out for a while and have numerous features.  Only three real brands to choose from too.  That moment got the wheels cranking and then I went to the grocery store.

I went down the potato chip aisle.  Yes I said AISLE.  An entire side of an aisle dedicated to the most popular snack since 1853 as legend has it.   Don't get me wrong. I love chips.  I always will.  My cousin and I would down a bag of original Doritos in minutes back in the 80s. In fact, we'd pull them out of my aunt's grocery bag when she walked in and crushed them before she put away the milk.  However, notice i said original Doritos.  Do you know how many brands there are now?   17.  That's my count anyway.  I understand its evolution of product, demands by the consumer and ultimately its a product geared to make money.  What I'm blabbing about is we might possibly be over saturated with choices.

I did a tour of duty at Starbucks and the light should have flicked on back then but I was too busy being a barista to notice all the blends, scones, danishes, independent artist Cd's etc.   Not too mention the menu had sub-menus.  Inevitably, a new product comes out and competition arises.   Then the original has to step up their game which means more choices, options, colors, shapes, smells.  Some even include batteries.  If you really want to marvel at something, go to Staples or Office Depot and check out the pen aisle.

Making a choice isn't overwhelming but its much more of a process than it used to be.  With more choice comes indecision.   What's funny is that I was once told that all we need is on the outer edges of the store.  The aisles?  All fluff. Guess what?  That's where the bacon is baby!   It might have a twist here and there (Try honey bacon) but you won't find an entire aisle of it.  A section or two?  Sure.  If by chance I'm wrong and there actually 31 flavors of bacon out there, you can choose 31 ways to beat me with it!   That is my random observation of the week.  Next up: Why Arrested Development is the greatest show ever!

Poop: The truth behind the smell!!!!!!

One of the funniest words in the english language is poop.  At least that's how i feel about it.  Hearing the word poop in a conversation always brings me to a chuckle and make me laugh out loud if put in certain contexts.  The bigger question is what is poop?   And where did this word come from?

One of the more informative websites regarding poop is called http://www.smellypoop.com/.  This website not only describes what exactly poop is but it also provides a history of the word poop and who knew its been around since 1900 and was originally the name for a fart!!!!!    If you feel like letting your inner child free (and if you're reading this blog, you're halfway there) check out this site.   It also includes those awesome diarrhea rhymes we all used to sing.  My favorite part of the site?  Facts about farts.  Here i thought i knew all there was to know about farts and i'm not even within smelling distance of the truth behind the fart.  Pun intended of course.  There's also a hilarious book I own and at one point I thought I was the only one who owned it or wanted to.  It's called "Everyone Poops" and yes everyone who poops has read it or owns it.  

The word poop also has one really unique feature that not a lot of words can claim.  It is a palindrome!   It's spelled the same both forward and backward.  Just like the town Kinikinik in Colorado!  Well, i hope i was able to provide a scant history of the poop.  Just remember that we all poop and that the word should bring a smile to your face.  Just the word though.  Actual poop smells terrible and is generally not known to bring happiness.  Until next time my friends!!!!!

Does length really matter?

Thanks for checking this out!  It's my first official blog entry on my own blog.  I wrote one for the CuckooLounge but i'm not sure if we'll continue that much further so with that being said, I ask you does length matter? 

Exactly how long should a blog be?   It's got to be longer than a facebook post right?  It's not twitter so i don't have a word limit.  I'm thinking in our fast paced, instantly gratified, same day delivery world that has an attention span of a Jolly Rancher, the length should be a few paragraphs with quick and decisive points of interest.  And of course, variety is the spice of life so I won't hold myself or your eyes to that.  I do promise that if you regularly read this, you'll enjoy it whether it's long, short or written in pig latin. 

So this is the first but certainly not the last.  Feel free to comment, critique, love or hate it.  You can look forward to random topics ranging from Alepecia to Zurich. I do have german heritage but may have to wikipedia that Zurich stuff.   Please enjoy and spread the word!   Adios!!!