Smash, Boom, Pow...How You Like Me Now?

I love the sport. It's physicality, it's violence, it's grace. I love it all. Football is such a phenomenon in America right now, even though the sport has been around for over 100 years. It crushes TV ratings, merchandise sales, and for all intensive purposes, seems to make us happy. I have no idea why at times. Sometimes I see the sport as possibly other cultures might, that it's just large, extremely fast men, running into each other as hard as possible.

But I also know the sport from what I've experienced. Starting with my first legitimized practice in the eighth grade.

When I first strapped on the pads it just felt different. Like I could march into a field and battle, do it amongst my peers, and then prove something about myself. I could find my niche. When I put on that uniform, I was no longer my civilian self, I was ready to take the mantle of a hero. I was ready to be something more than flesh and blood, when I put on that suit, I wanted to be a legend.

I don't know for sure that this is how everyone feels when they put on those pads. Maybe for some a baseball uniform does the trick, others basketball, or (God forbid) soccer. The first moment always seems to be the best. It's new, it's fresh, and full of opportunities start.

Then practice begins. And the initial skill levels become apparent. Some are fast, some slow, some strong, some weak. Tall, short, skinny, fat, everything in between. We are everyman. In this moment, this first moment, we are all here. And what's more, there is a place for everyone. Big guys to the line. The fast guys to the outside as receivers. The best athletes typically at quarterback, running back, linebacker.

As drills are performed, races run and lost, we begin separation. Some will no doubt be left behind (at least figuratively) and though they may never played a down, they still understand the lure of the sport of those that continue to play, some wishing they still did.

As I moved along, I found more and more nuances to the game. I found that speed and hand eye coordination were far more valuable than strength or size. That understanding the game including what the other player is attempting to accomplish on a specific play will give you an edge. Down and distance always matter. The clock, always matters.

I loved the struggles, the battle, the competition in every play. Unlike other sports such as basketball, soccer and hockey, footballs single play system allows for one team to momentarily lose, and then attempt to pick itself back up. The realization will set in that 'I just got beat' and you must recover mentally and physically. And if you do, the euphoria is unlike any I've ever really experienced, as though I fell while climbing a mountain, only to later run up to the peak and then claim it as my own.

The effort needed to perform in this sport is unique. At times, it's brute strength, others speed, technique, intelligence. It's an all encompassing sport. I cannot help but admire the ability of Peyton Manning, to not only throw a football, but to understand when and where to throw due to his reading of a defense. Likewise, I am in awe of the physical attributes of a Michael Vick, who can seemingly jog faster than 80% of humans can sprint.

It's an all encompassing sport, for the mind, the body and soul. It's America at it's purest. And that in all likelihood is why it makes us happy.

Late night TV show reviews. Cause I sleep Irregularly

So, like many people who enjoy good story telling. Good TV (of which there is little), good movies, (of which there are more) music, (where the stories are more open ended and typically less literal, and there is tons of it out there) and books (I don't need to explain books as a story right?)

Tonight debuted what HBO billed as another great story. One that they believe in the writer who wrote the story so much that he was one of the top billed players in the series as well as director Martin Scorsese. Yes, Steve Buscemi is a lead, someone you know doubt of seen before even if you don't watch a ton of movies, (but may be unfamiliar with the name.) Otherwise the cast takes a few cues similar to Mad Men, casting mostly relatively unknowns. It's not the only similarity to Mad Men, which isn't a bad thing.

The story takes us to the 20's, where prohibition is in the process of being passed. And while the central stories will no doubt be taking place within the context of the set up of the dealings of crime and morality, the obvious length to which Terence Winter and Martin Scorsese went to create a living breathing can not be lost. In face time and time again they show how culture and the world in general was different. In social moray's, in legality, in social statuses, in language. The authentication of an age thought visually extinct, save for old photographs. This is very much of what Mad Men does as well, which is a brain child of another 'Soprano' writer, Matthew Weiner (Who should get all due credit for making a fabulous show, pitched it to HBO, and they sadly said no.)

I don't think Boardwalk will try to mimic the Mad Men formula too much, and just try to pass over with a bigger budget and cursing. I think the writing and story ideas will be able to come a from a still original and fun place. ( A few interesting ones develop in the middle and in the end that completely took me by surprise).

It promises to be an interesting venture, and certainly one worth keeping up with.

Sorority Girls Majoring in Vagina Social Climbing

Recently I had found myself thinking about sorority girls. Specifically the girls who seem to be in College ONLY to have fun, who live in a world of boys, alcohol and drugs. They seem mostly interested in being junior level socialites, trying to stay on top of fashion and parties, but lacking in areas such as individuality and intelligence. I'm not painting with a broad brush here. I know plenty of girls that were in sororities and are not this girl, or who were this girl and then changed.

These particular girls have been told there whole life that they're beautiful, sexy, and hot. They dated whomever they wanted, and could have sex with just about anyone they wanted.

I wonder if these girls know that in two years, maybe less, they will be replaced by someone younger, sexier, dumber. Because they do not appear to. They cling to their vanity as their only line of defense . In fact the only way they won't be forgotten with the rest of her 'sisters' is that she actually finds a future with a motivated guy that some how doesn't see or doesn't care about her slutty shallowness. They are social climbers that must use their vagina's to do the climbing.

I do not know what led them to this miserable level of self-esteem, where their self worth is directly tied to who they have and who they currently are sleeping with. Where sleeping with the star football player is better than sleeping with with the star frat guy, that's better than sleeping with an upstart musician. It's bizarre (Not sure if that's the same for all the schools out there. Certainly at Harvard, maybe being in an awesome band is better than athlete, just saying at PSU pecking order certainly begins at football player).

Keep in mind I'm not referencing all sorority girls in this, but I am saying that is something that goes on. And maybe it is all fine. If you land a that guy that turns out to be a Pro Athlete, kudos. Just saying you got lucky, and it's probably not the best way to get into a relationship. Oh, and if you're banking on you being hot forever, just remember that youth is the easiest thing to replace. In just a couple years someone else is going to take your place as super hot bitch. Sorry, seems to be evolution. So when you don't have anything to give to a guy except being a slut ready to give it up, don't be surprised when your options start to dwindle.

The solution? Recognizing your own voice and trusting it. Be an individual worth knowing, defining yourself not by who you're with, but by yourself independent of others. If you are defining yourself as the 'girlfriend of 'insert star player's name' than you have have no real self identity. In short, get a personality. The vapid, brain dead slut gets old. (Eventually. You do great for rebounds though.)


*Disclaimer, This is both based on knowledge I've gotten first hand as well as friends within the Greek system. I'm not talking about any of my actual friends that are from sororities. We wouldn't be friends if you were the girl I just described.

Casual to Insane in 47 minutes and 36 seconds.

The bar that I work at is a hodgepodge of characters. No two people are really that close to each other in terms of type of personality. They range in style from jock, to sorority girl, to hippie, to stoner, to alcoholic, to ladies man, to husband, to wife, to home owner, to vagabond, to writer. And that's just a basic label, everyone is much more than that. We tend to have strong personalities, even if some are somewhat reluctant to show it. Due to our schedules, we tend to have few opportunities to really get together. Being in this college town, (repping you PSU) the staff is comprised mostly of college students of some capacity, undergrads, grads, law, etc. this basically means that if your not in class, you are probably studying or working, leaving very little time for a social life. Meaning that when the staff does get an opportunity to get together, we tend to let loose. We let loose like we may never get another opportunity quite like this one. This would be one of those times.

My roommate (we'll call him George Michael, yeah the same from the 80's story post) and I have decided to go out. He is coming off a tough break up and as a good friend I want to be there for him. Hang out for a few drinks, talk about whatever, joke, try and help him forget whatever is on his mind. He mentions that perhaps Sylas and Bill might be out. This signals a warning sign in my head. The last time a premeditated meeting of off duty staff occurred, I ended up shot-gunning a 4loco and passed out face down in a completely barren room that had yet to be moved into. Clearly if this night was going to happen I would need to be on my toes, because lost focus would mean in all likelihood a lost night. One when many interesting things may be happening but you might have been just a bit too inebriated to remember many of them.

We smoke a little bit of pot to calm the nerves before heading in. I love this practice. I'm a bit of an anxious person and will nervously sweat small social details like non-verbal communication, greetings, and what not. The act of smoking makes much more at peace with my surroundings, and less self-conscious.*

When we arrive we are greeted by the staff, who seems very happy to see us come through. Though also appear to perceive our current slightly sluggish state of mind and I am sheepish about the fact, but neither myself nor George Michael is apologetic about our actions. We're out to have fun. It's Friday night after all. We saddle up at a table, beers in hand, and so begins the night.

I start by picking George Michael's head about football. Football in America has become such an awesome phenomenon that I really think I can go anywhere in the world by just being able to strike up a conversation about that particular sport. I'd say about 85% of guys like the sport in America, thus making it a great conversation piece at any given time. Not more than ten minutes come by before Sylas and Will enter. I'm on my first beer. I am still fine, and feeling upbeat and curious how this night will go.

As Sylas and Will sit, the energy seems to build. Voices become boisterous, jokes become more regular, more vulgar, and our manager has just brought over a round of shots. It goes down easy, a short burn quickly replaced by the tartness of lime and sprite. I order another round. Now this was not something discussed at all. I just went by feeling. I felt like another round would just set it off right, set everyone in the mood. And it did. Soon after another shot, William orders yet another group of tasty, poisonous delights. So it goes. round after round ordered. consumed. Not so much of a word as to how or why yet somehow in the span of 47 minutes and 36 seconds we had consumed 8 shots and a few beers. It is not yet 10:30. I fear the worst for the coming assault we are about commit on human dignity.

We are attempting to fuck with our boss now. Our GM is coming down to bartending for the night. A rarity for sure, this is the first time in probably 3 years I've seen him take a bartending shift. I ask asininely for car bombs, knowing full well, that while they are simple steps to take, they are monotonous and tedious steps. He is not smiling as he takes the 3 steps to the right, the half pour of Jameson followed by the slow drip of Carolan's Irish Cream. I try to cheer him up, suggesting perhaps it might be fun to do the service thing again, an adrenaline rush perhaps.

"I fucking hate this shit"
"Oh"

I had little success.

I return, the realization I may be overstepping my bounds clearly expressed on my face.

"Guys, I'm not doing that again. He's pissed. Someone else is welcome to go, but I suggest to use caution."

Chris, yet another off duty employee, has joined our pack and welcomes the challenge and agrees to go. He order's B52's, a layered shot that has to be eye balled and done with care.

"Are you guys fucking with me?"

Guilty. But at this point we're bullet proof. We're all having a blast. We're united in our off-dutyness, and general affinity for crazy nights out. And our boss quickly sees this, and embraces our joy. He may not like the regular customers, however the off duty staff are the people he trusts to make the place how he wants it. And if it's all in fun, with no malice, we are allowed to fuck with the boss.

The night proceeds flawlessly. Eventually we would split up and lose one another to the night, some would come back, others not. My personal adventure took me to the undergrad apartments and Griller's at the end of the night. chowing down with a couple of the girls who worked tonight. I'm not exactly sure how I got to their place, but they seem fun and happy to have me over as company. However one gets a phone call asking to come down and check a head wound to see if the victim should go to the hospital, and at this point I think it wise to take my leave. They are nice enough to call me a cab, and I part, hoping mostly to go home and fall asleep. I've already had a pretty fun night and can't see how it could become better. That's when the Cab pulls off to the side exactly at the foot of the drive way of the house that's best known as the "Canary".

The canary just happens to be where 2 employee's as well as two other good friends live. For those keeping track, it is also where I passed out from the shot-gunning of an orange 4loco. I can see movement on the porch and I just know I want to be a part of it. I'm out for adventure, I'm out to find what moves people.

When I arrive I'm greeted with high fives and hugs from people I've just met as well as friends that go back for years. It's my friends birthday at midnight, and we have a celebratory smoke. I am extremely intoxicated at this point, but I still feel incredible. My emotions are of joy and laughter, there is no negative emotion still in existence in this moment. And now our gracious hosts have suggested a jam session.

I love music. I really do. I can't stand not having music in my life, and honestly I feel like life gets just so dry with out it. So when people just start performing it, even at an amateur level, I get pretty psyched up. Right now I'm loaded on alcohol and THC, and I can think of nothing better but to attempt to have fun writing lyrics and singing along in a free style. How often do these opportunities happen anyway? Whatever I sang and wrote was, in all likelihood, terrible. Something about a girl wanting to play and get paid...some kind simple rhyme like that with minor adjustments.

At some point a girl steps in and begins to sing. She is much better than I am. Which is fine by me. I'm not trying to be a singer anytime soon. I probably should have listened to the drummer who kept insisting I should write my shit down, (I tried...I got 3 lines, all terrible, all scribbled horribly, and not really making any sense.)

I finally feel the need to rest. I stumble home to bed, having had what was in all likelihood one of the best times I've had all year. Mostly due to the beginning attitude of the guys night out.













*I'm anxiously awaiting to the results of California's marijuana laws. If it's successful, as I think many believe it will be, I think American culture will change in a way not so dissilar to when prohibition ended. Honestly, it's one of the biggest issues that is coming up in this country, and it should be discussed openly