Snake Dogg Blogg

Ireland

After things fell apart at the end of the last night in London, we slept in and got up, took the train to the airport, and flew to Dublin and got our rental car.  We were scheduled to meet up with my aunt's niece, but the directions she gave us were totally fucked and we couldn't find it.  After three tries of retracing our steps, we gave up and headed to our Dublin hostel.  The hostel was nice.  I emailed my aunt's people letting them know what had happened.  We got cleaned up and went out on the town.  We ate a really nice, expensive meal and drank in a few old pubs in the Temple Bar district.  It was ok I guess, not too exciting.

In the morning we got up and started the drive west across Ireland towards Galway.  The drive was beautiful.  It was pretty much exactly what you picture and expect, in a good way.  Rolling green hills, black soil, sheep, stone fencing, shit like that.  Really nice.

We drove a little north to take in the Connemarra, Cong, and Ashford Castle.  It was cool.  Ashford Castle was pimp, they have turned it into a posh hotel where people like Pierce Brosnan have their wedding receptions, but they preserved the outside really well, and added a really well maintained garden outside.  It was nice. 

We left there and drove into Galway, parked near the city center and found a hostel.  Galway reminds me of a cross between POC (located on the water), Victoria (same popluation), and Austin (attitude).  The hostel we picked, after shopping around a bit, was money.  It was nice, big, and had a good location.  We got cleaned up and went to a pub.  We met some American exchange students, and a dude named Jonesy was really friendly with us.  He introduced us to his girls, and that was cool, but nothing came of it.  The hottie at the hostel had recommended a bar and this band playing there, so we left the pub we were at to check it out.  The band was REALLY good, and the place had a good vibe.  These two chicks came up to us out of nowhere and starting talking to us.  They were American exchange students as well.  I knew right away they were gonna be a dead end; they were 21, from Boston, and rich.  Dude rule #4,352: Average looking, rich, 21 year old white chicks from Boston don't put out.  But whatever, they were worth talking too.  After that bar closed we were kind of drunk, and the girls went with us to a place that stayed open late.  By this time I had drank enough scotch and sodas to convince myself of two things: that we had a chance of scoring with these chicks, and that it was a good idea.

At the next bar I switched to beer and realized we weren't going to score.  Out of nowhere, JC picked up this hot Irish alternachick and burned off.  One of the girls called some dude she was hung up on and burned off.  That left me and this chick just chilling there.  Some of her drunken stupid whore friends stumbled up on the scene.  When the bar closed at 2, she invited me to go with her and her friends to another bar that was open till 3.  Hoping against hope, but still pretty sure all would be for naught, I found JC and told him to wear a rubber and be back at the hostel early the next morning, and I left with the girl and her friends.  Outside the bar, the chick's friends changed their mind and decided to go home.  The girl followed suit.

Girl: "Well, I guess we're not going to the bar."

Me: "Ok, where are we going?"

Girl: "Well, I'm going home."

Me: "Ok, what does that mean for me?"

Girl: "I don't know."

Me: "Well, am I coming with you?"

Girl: "Umm...I don't know."

Me: "Never mind.  See ya."

This is what I wanted to tell her:

"Look, you're 21.  You are moderately attractive, but mostly because you're 21.  In a few years, you won't be good looking any more; in fact, you'll be below average.  You've probably slept with, what, 3...4 dudes?  Over the next few years, that number will increase as you date different guys.  By the time you are out of college a few years, in your late 20's you will be sleeping with tools WAY bigger than me.  So can we just skip ahead in your maturity a few years and have some good old fashioned casual sex?"

Anyway, I walked away from her and went back to the bar hoping to catch JC and see if he had any fallout poon for me.  The bar was closed and these two chicks were standing outside.  I asked them if there were people still in there and they said they were waiting on their friend who was still in there.  We started bullshitting and one of the girls ends up taking out a piece of chalk and drawing a hopscotch grid.  We played hopscotch until their friend came out.  I lost a $10 hopscotch bet in the process.  I asked their friend if anyone was still in the bar and she said no.  A short conversation later I found out that she was a friend of JC's alternalass, and that she had cockblocked JC because alternalass was too drunk, so alternalass left without JC.  After hearing this I walked back to the hostel to find JC sitting in the commons area.  We bullshitted a little while and went to sleep.

We woke up and drove to the Cliffs of Moher.  It was the coolest, most beautiful natural wonder I've ever seen.  Other than the naked female human form, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on.  It was powerful.  I've never seen the Grand Canyon, or Niagara Falls, or been on top of Mt. Everest, but I would imagine this was kind of like that.  When I get the link to the pics, I'll put them up; check them out, but know they don't really do it justice.  They have put in like, railing and a big visitor center and shit over the last 2 years to try and keep people from killing themselves, so technically you can't get right up to the cliffs anymore.  But after 5pm, the guards left and JC and I climbed over and checked out the precipice.  It ruled.  See pics later.

After the cliffs, we drove to Doolin, a small village on the water.  We ran into some fucking douchebags at the only hostel in town, so we opted for a B&B.  It was cool.  Hillary Clinton had been there.  The lady running it was really nice.  We went out to the 3 pubs in town, met a couple from New Mexico, had a great dinner, drank some beers, and went to sleep.  Pretty low key.  Breakfast the next morning was fucking badass, and after eating we drove back towards Dublin, through the Burren, stopping along the way to take pictures of castles and shit.

You wouldn't believe how much cool old shit there is.  Every few miles there will be a building that is over 700 years old.  It's crazy.  Most of the buildings in most of the towns predate the United States.

We met my aunt's niece outside of Dublin and went to her place.  Her husband, brother-in-law, his wife, and another couple went to a pub and then to a really nice, expensive restaurant.  They were cool people.  They actually weren't much different than early 30somethings back home.

The next day we went to meet my aunt's sister and her husband.  They were awesome.  Exactly how you picture a kindly old Irish couple.  The old man took JC and I out to a monastery built in 1000 AD.  It was cool.  We came back, walked the pier and then had a really, really, really good big dinner.  Trying to be polite, I stuffed my fucking face.  The food was fantastic, and the company was really hospitable and nice and fun.  After dinner they busted out the bottles (like 10 of them), and we started throwing them back.  Around midnight we left and went back to the niece's house because I had to be up at 4am.  The dinner was an awesome experience.

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There wasn't much I'd change about the trip.  Of course I would have liked to have had sex with a beautiful woman, but hopefully there'll be time for that later.  All the sites lived up to expecations or better.  It was expensive, but whatever.  Overall, I'd give the trip a 7 or 8 on a 10 scale. 

London: Jamming with Keith Richards and Eric Clapton in Paul McCartney's Daughter's Flat

I'm writing this in Kuwait, exhausted, filthy, and on an empty stomach, so these next two posts may not be what they could be, but given my post-per-day format and penchant for laziness, I'm getting them out of the way.

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Also of note is that I haven't been laid since January, so I couldn't take my mind off of getting laid.  Plus, I've figured out that anytime more than one single dude head out on a trip together, much much more time than is reasonable will be spent either trying to get laid, or talking about getting laid.  Recognizing this fact, I'm going to try and eliminate a lot of that aspect of the trip.  Let's just say there were hot bitches everywhere and I was giving them all the old eye and leave it at that.

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I flew out of Iraq during a dust storm, which was especially disheartening given the 1970's banged-up Russian twin prop we use as a charter service.  Visibility was absolutely nill.  Looking out of the window I couldn't even see the wings of the plane.  Pretty fucking stressfull.  Luckily, all went fine and I got to Kuwait ok.

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Kuwait sucks balls.  There is absolutely nothing there worth 2 turds.  No alcohol, no women, no nightlife.  I spent about 30 hours there just sleeping, listening to music, and agonizing over the wait.  My company started using a new apartment complex to house us, which was cool because the cable TV in the apartment had porn.  Crummy import russian skank only showing tits wanting you to call in porn, but porn nonetheless.

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I flew out of Kuwait and changed planes in Bahrain.  Bahrain sucks balls as well (a theme in the Middle East).  They fucked with me pretty hard at security.  I had to take my shirt off and had a Bahrainian security guard feel me up something good.  It was the closest I've gotten to getting laid since January.  Still, in the end it was no big deal and I made it to London Heathrow no problem. 

When I got to the London airport, I faced a choice.  I had 7 hours before my traveling companion, JC, was scheduled to arrive, but there were NO shops, bars, restaurants or anything on the arrivals side of passport control.  This meant I could either go through passport control and have places to eat, drink, rest, etc, and take the chance of JC not being able to find me, OR I could wait 7 hours in the fucking passport control area.  I chose the latter because: A.) I am a good friend, and B.) I didn't want to risk a mishap this early in the trip.  Evidently waiting this long in this part of the airport was not common, because all of the airport staff/security kept fucking with me.  Whatever.

JC finally got there and we took a cab to our hostel.  A $120 cab.  This was my first signal that London was going to be an expensive trip.

Our hostel in London was ok.  In the end it was great as far as location, but the amenities and atmosphere was kind of bunk.  It did have internet.  But, in my experience, a good hostel serves 2 purposes: a place to sleep, and a place to meet people.  This hostel was fine for sleeping (not spectacular but fine), but had a shitty commons area.  We got there late and ended up just buying a couple beers from the stoner bitch working the reception and drank them down in the basement of the hostel.

We woke up the next day and started out to see all the sights.  I'm not a big sightseeing or history guy, but we wanted to make the most of the trip and since we are in London, may as well see all the shit.  Our hostel was within walking distance to everything.  We walked to Buckingham Palace and got there just in time for the changing of the guard (and all that jazz), so that was cool.  There was a shitload of people there.  Then we went and saw Parliament, Big Ben, Picadilly Circle and all that.  Finally we went to the Tate Modern.  Or the Tate Britain.  Apparently there are 2 art museums within a couple blocks of each other, one the Tate Modern and one the Tate Britain.  I'm going with the notion that we were at the Tate Modern because it sounds cooler.  Anyway, it was filled with crap that you need to be either extremely uppity or on acid to understand.  I liked it though.  The museum was nice.

After the Tate Whatever, we went back to the hostel, got cleaned up, and headed to a local pub.  There are TONS of pubs throughout the city, but not like, any central hangout (a la 6th St.).  This sucks for two American dudes trying to score some tail.  Anyway, we went to 3 different places and got a good buzz, but not much happened.

I am NOT the kind of guy that can/tries to pick up chicks in a bar.  In fact, I'd never done it before this trip.  Never even tried it.  Maybe Iraq has made me bolder or more desperate, or maybe I just don't give a shit anymore, but on this trip I tried talking to complete strangers.  It worked ok I guess, but I'll get to that later.  I mean, these days and at my age, you can't just rely on your friends introducing you to girls or meeting them at work or whatever.  You gotta be more aggressive, which sucks and goes agianst what I'm all about.  Whatever.

Anyway, at the last bar we were at, JC and I were eyeing these 2 Brit girls sitting in the corner and talking about how we should talk to them.  At this point I switched from beer to scotch.  After about 4 scotch and sodas, I caught one of their eyes and waved them to come sit with us.  It met complete rejection.  The girls just laughed.  Whatever, slags.

All the small pubs in London close at midnight, so we closed down the place we were at and headed home.

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We got up the next day and walked to Abbey Road studios.  That was pretty cool even though it is not open to the public because it is still a working studio.  We walked through Hyde Park on the way home and stopped at a bar we had seen the previous day that looked popular. 

This place, called Shakespeare's (I think), was a LOT busier than any other London bar we had been to.  There were women EVERYWHERE.  We sat down with a couple beers and took in the scenerey.  We ate a couple of shitty hamburgers and discussed starting a screenprinting business.  After 3 or 4 beers, I noticed this girl sitting by herself.  She was pretty cute.  She made eye contact with me and smiled.  On the second time she did it, I did the same thing I had done to the slags the night before; waved her over and mouthed "come sit over here".  JC watched me do this and was incredulous that after getting punked so hard the night before that I would go back for more ridicule.  I figured my self esteem was so shot, I didn't have anywhere to go but up.  Only, instead of laughing and looking away, the girl picked up her shit and started walking over to our table.

JC: "Oh god, did you just wave a girl over here again?"

Me: "Oh shit dude, she's coming over.  Oh shit dude.  Dude, go get us some beers.  Holy shit, cool!  Oh shit."

JC got up and went to go get us a fresh beer. She came over and introduced herself and sat down.  Her name was Jeanine.  I was American, she was Canadian.  She figured we were American because we made eye contact and were friendly.  My dumbass, as like, the 2nd sentence out of my mouth, asked her how old she was.  What a dumbass.  She looked at me like she was about to leave, but she just answered and moved the convo along.  Fuck it, I just wanted to make sure she wasn't a coug (she told me she was 28).  Shittily, we never got a picture of her, so I don't know if it was beer goggles or not, but she looked pretty good.  Pretty...pretty good face.  I do know that she was NOT fat and at least moderately pretty.

Anyway, the three of us sat there for a long time drinking beer.  At one point when she got up to go to the bathroom, JC and I discussed what we thought was going to happen.  We both agreed that chances were 99% that she was going to leave when the bar closed at 12. 

Well, as the place was about to close, she suggested we share a cab to the next bar.  Apparently, she knew there were places that stayed open till 2 or later and wasn't ready to end the night.  Holy shit dude!  Is this happening?!  Is this beautiful baby ready to party?!  Do I smell a double team?!  Was I so money and didn't even know it?

We got in a cab and the driver took us to this swanky ass wine bar about 15 minutes away.  We got punked at the door because JC and I weren't up to dress code.  But they did say there were two bars down the block that were open late.  So we walked down aways, and there were 2 bars open.  One was a dance club, and none of the 3 of us wanted that, so we went in to the only remaining choice.  It was kind of a cool bar, it reminded me of one of the places on 4th St in Austin like Saba or one of those places.  Anyway, we went in and started drinking.  Things were looking good, but I still planned on neither of us getting laid.  I mean, what was going to happen, JC or I starts in on this chick and the other dude burns off and walks home alone?  F that, that's not how I roll.  And luckily not how JC rolls either.  Call it bros before hoes, call it being a good person, call it whatever.

2 AM rolled around and the bar issued last call.  The waitress told us that there was a bar up the road open till 3 but didn't give us directions.  Other than us, there was a group of people getting shitfaced on the other side of the bar.  I knew I was pretty drunk, I figured JC was too, and Jeanine had to be at least a little sauced.  I mean, we'd been drinking since around 7, all 3 of us.  Maybe she'd invite us back to her hotel room. 

When the bar closed we stumbled outside.  There were like 4 hot ass girls and 3 dudes outside talking; part of the group that had been getting shitfaced in the bar earlier.  We asked one of them if she knew where the bar that was still open was, and she goes "I don't know, but I'm having all these mates back to my house, you should just come back there with us and party."  HOLY FUCKING SHIT.  One of the dudes goes "yeah, mate, can't beat a house party, plus this girl's got a lovely flat and plenty to drink."  HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

Jeanine, JC and I ALL agreed that this would be fun.  The girl who invited us got in a cab with 4 other people, while JC, Jeanine, me, the dude who had invited us, and another group waited for a 2nd cab that was pulling up.  It was all happening.  We were taking a hot chick to meet 4 other hot British chicks and their mates to party with the locals in a nice part of London.  Dreams were about to come true.  JC and I looked at each other in complete disbelief.  It was all happening.

What happened next is hard to type and impossible to explain.

The 2nd cab pulled up and people started piling in.  3 dudes got in, including the dude who invited us, along with 2 chicks.  Right as I was about to get in the cab, Jeanine goes "you know what, I'm really not feeling well, you guys go ahead".  JC and I protested, but not long, as the 2nd cab was waiting to take us to a fucking kicking London afterhours house party filled with hot British chicks.  So, we said "please come, ok, are you sure, ok" and hugged her and turned to get in the cab.  I got in the cab, and saw the look on the cabbies' face.  There were too many people in the cab, and JC and 2 chicks were still standing outside.  I knew it was over.  The guy who invited us gave me a look, like, "sorry dude".  The guy gave JC his number, and told us to call him and he'd give us directions.  The 2 chicks took my place in the cab and the cab was gone.  We looked around for Jeanine, but she was gone too.

The entire preceding paragraph unfolded in a matter of less than 30 seconds.

There we were, JC and I, alone, cold, and a long way away from our hostel.  We again looked at each other in disbelief.  The whole situation just fucking evaporated, dematerialized, desinigrated.  It was unbefuckinglievable.  We began the long walk home.  I was pissed; I couldn't believe fate led us that far and then didn't convert. 

So many questions:

• Why did Jeanine change her mind so suddenly when she seemed just as excited as us to get invited to a house party?
• How the fuck did she burn off so fast?
• What would have happened if one of us would have offered to take Jeanine home and the other stayed in the cab to go to the party?
• What was the party like?

Answers we came up with:

• Maybe Jeanine didn't want to compete with other chicks for us.  Maybe she hadn't wanted to hook up with either one of us and was just looking for an excuse to burn away.  Maybe she was schizophrenic.
• There MUST have been another cab RIGHT there; there's no other way she could have disappeared so fast unless she was a figment (sp?) of our imagination.
• I think that splitting up would have been our best route, but getting seperated would have been really risky.  Plus, we thought we had this party thing in the bag.
• The party went down like this: you see, the girl who invited us to party with her and her friends was Paul McCartney's daughter, and since the flat neighbors Keith Richards' place, they usually end up partying together most nights.  This particular night, Keith had his friend Eric Clapton over.  When all the people got back from the bar, Keith and Eric joined the party.   A couple joints got passed around, some coke, smack, 'cid, and whatnot.  Around 4am, Keith and Eric started jamming, and all the single dudes passed out.  The chicks started grooving to the music and taking off their clothes and making out and stuff.  It was perfect, except there was no drummer and no singer to complete the jam session.  THAT'S BECAUSE JC AND I WEREN'T THERE.  We were too busy walking home in the fucking cold windy rain wondering what the motherfuck just happened.

Bored as hell and I want to get ill

I hate the weekends over here.  First of all, no stock market to watch.  Second, no friends at work back in the states to IM during the second 1/2 of the day.  Finally, everybody else is having fun and I'm not. 

I pretty much always make my routine calls back home Sunday night (for me; Sunday morning back in Texas).  First I call my brothers, then my parents, then anybody else I need/want to talk to.  My mom always pisses me off because she never answers her phone.  Then she waits to call me until 10 minutes before they leave for church.  That way she only has to talk to me for a maximum of 10 minutes.  Funny how much all relationships rely on convenience.  The hardest lesson I've had to learn in my life is that people are forever disappointing.  All of us.

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The Super Bowl doesn't mean much to me, so I won't stay up and watch it (starts at 2:30am my time).  The only thing that sucks about it is that I'm missing yet another good opportunity to get piss drunk.  Not to worry, I'll be making up for it this summer, ten fold.  FYI, when I die, and those close to me are planning my funeral, 2 words: CLOSED CASKET.  And I'm fucking serious.  Be heard on this now.

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I decided I'm going to buy a used Jeep Wrangler (mid to late 90's model) when I get home.  It's a made decision.  Deciding factors:

• I've always wanted a Jeep.  My older brother used to have a Jeep and I loved it.  I've heard they are a lot of fun to drive and they just look cool IMO.
• They hold their value well.  Most late 80's models fetch at least 3 grand as long as they run.  A late 90's model can go for just under 10.  They start out at 15k brand new.
• I just couldn't rationalize dropping $24,000.00 on a truck that wasn't my dream automobile, nor could I rationalize dropping $30,000+ on my dream automobile.
• I"m buying a house sometime in the next year, which means my credit report needs to be well tended to.  I didn't want to pay cash for a new truck (to keep myself liquid and have my $ making more $), so if I went new I'd have to take out a note.  This would have a negative effect on my credit score, which could cost me $1000's when I get a mortgage.

Lastly, I'm a strong believer in the theory that your big ticket items (car, house, etc.) say a lot about who you are.  If I came home and bought a brand new expensive truck, I'd be that dude who came home and bought a brand new expensive truck, and I wouldn't be able to help but be that dude who is driving around showing off his new truck.  I mean, you drop that much coin on something, you're gonna be proud of it and show it off, and I don't want people knowing that I have money.  It's changes the way they treat you (regardless of how you got the $).  That's not what my trip to Iraq was about.  I've never been about having nice material shit and I hope I never will be.  I'm the dude that drives an average automobile and lives in an average home, and I don't think that makes me an average person; in fact, I think it makes me above-average that i"m comfortable with those facts.  If I pull materialistic bitches, it's going to be in spite of the car that I drive and the house that I live in, not because of it.  I'm came over here to have $ to provide more my future dependents and to allow myself the freedom to pursue my dreams, and all my spending decisions will be made with that at the very forefront.  I feel strongly about this so I really need to make sure my actions and words are reflecting the values I want to have (R&R's have shown me that it's easy to act out).

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In exactly 100 days I'm going to be flying out of the middle east for the last time.  Crazy how fast this experience has passed.  Hope things stay safe.  I was thinking the other day about what the purpose of this blog was.  This was a gift from Ojo, I think with the intention that it would be a good way to keep in touch with people back home, to write some funny shit, and to give an account of what working in Iraq as a contractor is like (from my perspective).  I feel like it has definitely helped to serve the first purpose, and it maybe made some of y'all laugh (if not then fuck off dickhead), but I think I've failed miserably at the 3rd intent.  So in this last 100 days I'll try to be better about that.  Especially since I don't have to worry as much about getting shitcanned  (although getting axed right now would still cost me $30,000).   As a show of good faith, here's a list of some of the little things I've noticed about the difference between life on a military base in Iraq vs. life as a normal dude in Texas:

• All of the food is either extremely salty or sweet.  I guess that stems from most everything having to be preserved.
• The military has a much higher % of minorities and rednecks than normal life.  I imagine living on this base is a lot like what it must've been like to go to Stroman.
• Talk about routine.  Saying "every day is the same" is a severe understatement.  Except days when we get bombed.
• I swore I'd never say this or be like this, but you DO get conditioned to getting bombed.  When it happens week after week without any real tragedy, it's like driving drunk, you just don't worry about it and develop this underlying feeling that nothing bad is going to happen.  Now when we get hit I just put on my gear and keep working, instead of going fetal or running around the office gathering food and water while planning my trek to Kuwait on foot.
• Most of the non-american workers are from the Phillipines, India, Pakistan, or the Balkans.  Indians and Pakis are laborers, Phillipinos are administrative assistants, and the Balkans take the good jobs that would ordinarily be filled by Americans but for some reason ($) can't.  Bosnians, Kosovars, etc (Balkan folk) smoke more than you can possibly imagine.  They also drink coffee like Cornholio.
• The people that come over here all suffer from the same disease: desperation.  We all have different reasons, but the underlying theme is that we were all desperate and were going to change our lives, damn the consequences.
• The average GI could give a fuck less; this is the best job they could get.  But you know what?  God bless 'em anyway.  For some reason I still admire them and feel indebted to them, I guess because if the shit ever really did hit the fan (at home or over here), we'd be depending on them, regardless of why they joined up.  Be nice to soldiers.
• In virtually every aspect, 1 year over here = 5 years stateside (roughly).  The ratio of $, aging, job experience, tolerance, etc.  It's all 5:1.
• The desert heat really isn't that oppressive.  Of course, I never have to be out in it, but honestly, 9 months out of the year, the weather is actually very pleasant.  Some of the most beautiful days I'ver ever seen (weatherwise) have been over here.  It's dry, cool, calm.  Just nice.  Now, May-August sucks balls if you have to be outside, but not much bigger balls than Texas heat sucks.

That's enough for now.  If anyone reading this has any questions about life over here, now's the time and here's the place.  I probably won't feel like talking about it much once I come home.

Have fun watching the Super Bowl, drinking cold beer, eating good food, and beign around close friends and beautiful women.  Ya fuckers.

Tucker Max and other updates and opinions

• Tucker Max's site (link at right) just became unblocked at work this week, so I spent a full 3 days reading all of his stories.  They get old quick.  Really, he's a complete douche; an utter tool, but there's something to be learned from him: confidence, ability to forget rejection, and low standards will get you laid A LOT.  Quotes I like:
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  "I really, really hate them, and every place we went that night was a club. The only people who go to clubs are the ones who have nothing to say. They intentionally make it oppressively loud in clubs because it's impossible to sound stupid if no one can hear you."

  "I usually don't like cataloging how much I drink during a night, because as my friend Craig once put it, "Only pussies count,""

  "It's never good style to sweat pussy. Nothing smells worse to a woman than desperation."
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• Time is freaking FLYING by over here.  This last little 90 day run ain't goin' be sheeit.

• If I ever get all fucked uplike paralyzed or become a vegetable, just put me in front of a TV that plays a never ending reel of all the seasons of Entourage.

• This is where I'll be staying in Ibiza in May.  It could quite possibly be the greatest weekend of my life.  I'll take some Paella, a beer, and a 23 year old Catherine Zeta-Jones lookalike.  Cavroncito!!!!

• Still haven't totally ironed out my trip to Ireland/England for March.  It's only 45 days away so I need to get on the stick.

• You know that feeling of like "everything's going to be alright.  I'm the man", etc.  I get it, but lose it so easily.  If I could just like harness that attitude and have it ready at all times, my life would be so much more kickass.  I let that Eeyor shit take over way too easily.  Maybe it's because deep down I know what a tooly douche I am.

• Short Timer Syndrome fucking rules.

• 103 days.

• Buying a home and an automobile is fucking stressful.

• Good times are ahead.

• Hope is a dangerous thing.

Comics and Coaches

I felt like posting and my friend help me come up with a topic (coaches).  I have long wanted to post about comic strips, so here's a double topic post for that ass.

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Coaches

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I want to be a basketball coach someday.  When I think about the adults that most impacted my life growing up, my high school basketball coach ranks right up there with my uncles in the 2nd tier of male influence (behind my brothers, my dad, and my grandfather).  All total, I've had 10 coaches from kindergarden soccer through high school varsity basketball.  Here's a breakdown (names spaced out or misspelled to prevent them from stumbling upon this vulgar blog when the google their own names):

1. Rusty Z_apalac.  He coached my first YMCA soccer team.  I was 6.  I don't remember anything about him other than that he had a red beard and that my dad yelled at me when I asked to go in to the game.  His son was on the team.
2. Liz Ha_rris.  She coached my 2nd Y soccer team.  She was also my 1st grade teacher.  She was awesome.  She was patient and nice, and she also knew enough about soccer to teach us the basics of the game.  She was also a very good teacher and made a big impact on me.  She ruled.  She made it fun too.  She cared.  Her daughter was on the team.
3. Dr. H_orton.  He was a veterinarian.  He was my little league coach in my one brush with hard baseball.  I was in the minors in 4th grade and our team was called the Blue Jays.  I tried out for the majors but my 7 ft. longball at the plate told everyone I wasn't ready.  So I was one of the older kids on the team.  For some reason I always wanted to play catcher.  I guess it was because I thought of baseball as an incredibly boring game (pretty much still do), and the catcher and pitcher got the most action.  I knew I wasn't pitcher material.  Anyway, I played shortstop.  I alternated with one of our pitchers, so when he pitched, I played short; when he didn't pitch, I played outfield or sat on the bench.  But I really wanted to play catcher.  Our catcher broke his leg after like the 3rd game, so we needed a catcher.  I could field pretty well, but my throw to first had about as much zip as this dude's would.  The coach asked me to come play catcher in practice.  After about 5 minutes, he called time and says "You ever thought about playing catcher?"  I answered "No." and he moved me back to short and brought one of the outfielders in and they became the catcher.  For some reason I blame my lack of baseball passion on Dr. Horton.  He should've known.  Poor communication skills.  But I'm sure he's a heckuva nice guy.  His son was a good player.
4. Coach Brown_son.  She was my main coach at Mike Smith's Basketball Camp.  She knew her shit about the fundamentals of the game and I actually learned a lot from her.  I'm pretty sure she was a lesbo.  She nominated me for camp MVP, and I got Best All-Around in her group.  She ruled.
5. Joey De La Torr_e.  This fuckin' guy.  He reminded me of the coach from Calvin and Hobbes.  He thought he had to be mean and hard to get the most out of 12 and 13 year old kids.  "You don't want to play football!"  "Go home to mama if you don't want to run!" and shit like that were his catch phrases.  He put me on the "B" team when I was in 8th grade, which was a slap in the face considering how hard I played for him.  It forced me to quit.  In hindsight, I think his heart was in the right place because I'm pretty sure he moved me down because I weighed 62 pounds.  Still though, he was really mean to some kids, and he lacked patience.  He coached track and basketball too, but it was all the same.  In fact, I don't remember him ever even being at track practice.
6. My bulldyke aunt and her lover.  They coached my junior high boys' softball team.  You know the strangeness of it never even clicked with me.  Weird.
7. Joseph Chat_eau.  Coach Joey got cirrosis (sp?) of the liver, and had to retire right before basketball season, so they picked up this dude real quick.  He was horrible, especially for me and my already tiny self esteem.  Once he told me, and I'll never forget this as long as I live, he says to me he says "I would put you in, but I want to win."  If I ever become anything worth anything, it'll be in spite of him.  If I ever go on a killing spree, he'll have contributed.  On top of all that, he didn't know shit about basketball.
8. Scott Br_own.  He was my best friend's brother, and he was a friend of my older brother's.  A supremely nice guy.  He coached one of my summer league basketball teams and my JV high school team.  He knew the game well, and had a good feel for how to make the game and structure fun.  He was a good coach.  Now he's an Episcopal Priest.  He was a very good role model and probably the most technically sound coach I ever played for.
9. Tom Lo_vejoy.  This is the man that taught me that it's all about how you play the game.  He had a well deserved rep as a great man who was a horrible coach.  His heart was as pure as driven snow but he didn't know X's and O's for squat.  Still though, I wouldn't have traded him for anybody.  He made his players better people, if not better players.  Honestly, I spent most of the time pitying him.  He caught a lot of shit for us losing.  But in my opinion, we didn't have talent worthy of any expectations.  None of us cleared 6'3", and HS ball was the highest level any of us had any business playing.  Personality-wise, he reminded me of Dick Vermeil.  I owe him a lot and we were close.  He's the kind of man you would want around your adolescent son.
10. Some dude.  I know I played YMCA basketball one year but I don't remember anything about my coach. 

I coached a summer league team of 5th graders for one game one year.  I only mention it because we were winless going in and played the best team in the league.  I taught the only 2 black kids I had how to trap and press and we won easily.  I ruled.

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Comics

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I'm tired of typing by now but I still want to mention that I hate almost all newspaper comics.  It just seems like they should be so much better.  Peanuts had game, The Far Side ruled, and Calvin and Hobbes changed my life; but, as a general rule they blow.  What the fuck is crap like Cathy and Fred Basset doing in print?!  Who's making these decisions?  In cartoonists defense, I"ve tried drawing and writing my own strip just to prove that they could easily be done better, and it's pretty fucking hard.  I can only imagine having to come up with something every day.  But that's what I don't get; why don't they have strips with multiple writers, like sitcoms and animated series?  You have to have the same artists so that they look the same, but having multiple writers would help keep the quality up I bet.  It's just a damn shame that the funnies suck so bad is all I'm saying.

And we're back

Well, I'm back in Iraq.  R&R had it's ups and downs, but overall it was a good experience.  Random thoughts:

-Youth has value.  There's no time like your 20's and that is to be recognized.

-There's about a 75% chance I'll be ditching this gig earlier than expected.  I'll probably come home in May instead of November.  More on this in a post to come.

-On that note, here are some posts I hope to get out:

• Should I stay or should I go now?
• UT Football Season Review and 2007 Preview
• Death of Snake Dogg Blogg?
• Politics
• Big Plans
• Dreams vs. Reality -or- Hope is a dangerous thing.

-Sometimes I feel like Chuck Noland (Tom Hanks from Cast Away).  Real life seems kind of foreign to me. 

-Drunk Jake is always The Man.

-Ok, holla soon.

10 Thoughts For That Ass

• Just listened to a badass song: "Eyes" by Rogue Wave.  It's one of those "right time right place" songs, so you may not like it, but I thought it was glorious.
• This girl I'm talking to is gonna get a hurtin.  She's fallin fast and I'm not.  NOt a good scenario.  Bummer.
• Can't wait to be home for Christmas.
• I have concluded that I can never try acid, or any other heavy drugs for that matter.  My sanity is too fragile.  Sad to say, but my experiment days are over.  It's kind of a bummer, but I don't have a choice; it's just too dangerous for a lil guy like me.
• This food over here is fucking worthless.  I've completely lost my zeal for eating.  I've lost 5 pounds in the last 2 months.  Weak.
• Added to that, I'll never be able bench press 225 lbs.  That was one of my goals when I started working out (along with doing 25 pull-ups and running 3 miles in under 20 minutes--both accomplished).  I've maxed out (at 205) my strength under my current weight, and I simply can't add bulk.  That said, I'm satisfied with my body.  F it, man.
• Fuck Maddie.  Once you've been hurt, you're never the same.
• This link fucking rules.  I watched the entire season of Heroes.  It's pretty good.  It's one of those shows where you go "man that was awesome.  but it coulda been better."  My Name is Earl and The Office are next.
• I shit you not as soon as I typed "Fuck Maddie." she called me.  She's got a fuckin 6th sense I tell ya.
• Sucks about Andy Pettite, but I think the 'stros are in the right.

On Various Topics

• Florida should play Ohio State for the Championship.
• If I were in charge, this year there would be a six team playoff.  Ohio State and Florida would get a 1st round bye.  Michigan and Boise St. would play to see who gets to play Ohio State in the semis, and Wisconsin and Louisville would play to see who gets Florida.  The winners of the semis face off in the national title.  I think in this scenario the title game would end up being Michigan vs. Florida.
• Spending 84 hours a week in front of a computer screen can't be good for your eyes.
• Sucks to see the death of Landscape of Round Holes and Secret Comics.
• 15 days till I get to come home.  Totally stoked, although I'm trying to prepare myself for it being stressful and busy.  I've got a lot planned, and i hope it ain't too much.  I need some rest.
• 348 days until my Iraq experience is over forever.  I hope I can make it.
• I get a hard-on everytime I look at the $100,000+ in my bank account.  I lose it when I think about the last time I had a legitimate use for a hard-on.
• I think the first big purchase I make once I get back is going to say a lot about what kind of person I am.  If I come back and make some baller-ass buy like a new Tahoe or a $250k home, I think it would label me somehow and set a bad tone for how I'm going to use the $ I made over here.  I plan on holding off on buying a house for 1/2 a year or so, and I'm going to purchase a reliable but inexpensive automobile.  Something like a 2004 Dodge Dakota or something similar (late model truck, under 50k miles, under $10k).
• I need to find somebody to go on vacation with in March.  I'd like to somewhere in Asia or Greece.  I hate travelling alone.  If anyone reading this is interested, it'd be a 5-7 day vacation on a beach somewhere in mid-March 2007.  Let me know.
• For some reason I'm not all that despondent about Texas' disappointing season.  I feel we lost one more game than we should have.  Our D has been hitting hard, our Fr. QB played beyond expectations, and the cubbard is still chock full of horses.  Of course our RB play and our secondary play have been horrible, but all in all, I'm still behind our team 100%.  I'm worried about our OL and DBs next year, but the schedule sets up nicely for a run.  The DC hire is a biggie.
• I'm probably going to be alone forever, and I'm becoming more and more okay with that.
• I've been having a pretty strong urge to do something overly-generous to the point of stupidity.  I need to find some middle ground, because while I want to meet my own personal goals financially, I also need to give back.
• Work has never been easier.   I don't do a damn thing.  Here's a typical day in the land of SD:
• 7-9am: wake up, shower, your usual morning hygiene routine; 
• 7:30-9:30am: get to work. put down my ballistic helmet and vest, and start up my computer. 
• 8-11am: visit my standard websites (Orangebloods, ESPN, Yahoo! Finance to check my stocks, Yahoo! News, My brothers' blogs usually followed by AllBilly, Dooce, and FilanMonet, Yahoo! Fantasy Basketball and Football, MackBrown-Texasfootball.com, Astros.com, DallasCowboys.com, and WellsFargo.com).  I visit every site every day and except for the blogs every site has some kind of spreadsheet I keep updated (Texas' depth chart, pro rosters, my money/stock tracker, etc.).  I swear I'm OCD.  Or maybe I'm just in fucking Iraq and don't have shit to do.
• 11-12am: Work.  I usually put in a good solid hour doing whatever piddledick tasks have piled up.  Most of the time I can knock it out in about 15 minutes, but sometimes it takes the full hour.
• 12-1:30pm: Workout and eat.  Usually this Jamaican dude comes and picks me and a buddy up and we go lift weights for about an hour and then hit the DFAC to go eat.
• 2-5pm: Work.  If there is still shit to be done after I get back from lunch I finish it up.  There rarely is so a lot of this part of my day is spent obsessing over how much time I've spent and got left over here.  I have 3 different spreadsheets to track it.  Also, a lot of days I will take a bout an hour during this time and go to my room and play guitar or beat off or nap or whatever.
• 5pm-9pm: BS with Kineyb and talk on the phone.  5pm my time is 8am in Texas, so by 5:30 or so my friend Kenny is at work and we IM about random bullshit for the rest of the day.  I also spend my evenings talking to this girl in Houston and my family and any friends I haven't talked to in awhile.  I put on my ballistic vest and helmet and leave the office usually sometime between 9 and 10.
• 10-11pm:  Off.  Usually I go to my room and play guitar or watch TV.  If I'm feeling especially motivated I'll go to the gym and run 3 miles.  This doesn't happen very often.  I usually fall asleep watching TV around 1am or so.  Wake up and do it all over again.  With one day off per month where i pretty much stay in my room and sleep all day.
• My pro gambling career my be back on.  I just went 8-2 on my top 10 and 12-5 overall.  If I have a $ week of picks for the bowls, I could win some serious jack.
• I made a decision last January (after UT won it all with my punk ass in Iraq) that if any of the following happened, I'd quit and come home: Astros go to the world series, Longhorns go to the national championship, or Cowboys go to the Super Bowl.  Well, the astros and horns choked, but it's looking like a possibility for the 'Boys.  I've always wanted to attend a Super Bowl just to see what all the fuss is about.
• Continuing on that topic, if the Astros get Pettite back, they're gonna be lookin' tough.  The Cowboys have a roster stacked with quality young talent and are about 2 OL and a nonTO WR away from being completely stacked.  Replacing Parcells is gonna be a crucial decision too.
• The Raptors are comin' alive baby!  Bargnani has started to get some PT, TJ is having a career year, and Bosh is looking Garnett-like.  They are a standout defensive swingman/shooter and a good coach away from contending.
• Really looking forward to Christmas.
• In the end, all that matters is family.

Thanksgiving

Yesterday was Thanksgiving.  I was over here for Thanksgiving last year, too. They have a big turkey dinner and all that at the DFAC, but I decided against it. I sat in my office, by myself, and had an MRE for lunch. (An MRE is a Meal, Ready to Eat; it’s what the soldiers eat out in the field. They can be good, or terrible, depending on which meal you get and what mood you are in.  They are notorious for causing severe constipation.  I guess they’re designed that way; you don’t want a soldier in the heat of battle suddenly having to take time out to drop off the kids.)  Anway, last year I went to the DFAC and did the long line turkey dinner, and it depressed the hell out of me.  Not only because I was away from my family, but mostly because a lot (maybe even majority) of people eating there were happy to be there.  Like, the cut-rate meal they were eating in the middle of the desert surrounded by complete strangers was better than they would have gotten back home.  And I’m not talking foreigners; I’m talking Americans too.  Like I said, it depressed the hell out of me.

I have always felt lucky to have such a large, close-knit family.  Even from young age I respected it as something unique, special, sacred, whatever.  But over time, it’s become ever clearer that what I have experienced with my extended family is the best thing in my life. It’s the one thing that has actually gotten better as I’ve gotten older. It’s the one part of my life that has never disappointed me.  I won’t go into how badass holidays at my grandma’s are, because either you get it or you don’t; just know that it’s fucking badass. I feel sorry for the women that my brothers and I marry because there’s simply no way they can compete. I realize that all families are different and good in their own unique way, but, I’m sorry, you can’t hang with 130 people who all know each other well, get along, and have pure love for one another united by one common living ancestor. It’s f’n brutal.

Being over here has shown me just how unique my situation is. I work in an office building of about 100 employees. Last holiday season, I was one of about 5 people who’s family sent them shit for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I was the ONLY MOTHERFUCKER who’s Mom baked him shit and sent it over here. Same thing this year.  Yesterday I spent 3 hours on the phone talking with my family. That probably matches the cumulative total of everyone else in my building. Seriously.  This one dude I work with didn’t even talk to his fucking wife on Thanksgiving. His WIFE.  On THANKSGIVING. Another guy in my office is 2 years younger than me and didn’t talk to anyone in his family either.  I feel like I’m the only person on this entire base who anybody back home gives a fuck about.  It should probably make me feel really good, and it kind of does; but mostly it just makes me feel guilty and sad about the state of the world and our culture. I guess that’s just my nature.

I was talking to one of my cousins yesterday and she told me that she hated Thanksgiving. I asked her why and she explained “because it’s a holiday they made up just to pig out.” I get that.  But I still like Thanksgiving. Like most holidays, it has gotten off track from its noble beginnings. I think we have a holiday for pretty much every character trait we hold dear, but they’ve all kind of gotten away from their original intention. It’s sad:

Holiday	Original Meaning
New Year's	New beginnings
Valentine's Day	Romantic love
Mardi Gras	Sacrifice/Self-discipline
Memorial Day	Respect/Rememberance; bravery, courage, etc.
Independence Day	Respect/Rememberance; patriotism
Labor Day	Rest
Halloween	no clue; has something to do with saints and the dead
Thanksgiving	appreciating what you have
Christmas	generosity

Holiday	Current Meaning
New Year's	Get shithoused and start a new diet and exercise regimen
Valentine's Day	Buy jewelry and expensive food or don't get laid
Mardi Gras	Get obliterated and pig out
Memorial Day	Go to the beach and get obliterated
Independence Day	Go to the beach and get obliterated and shoot off fireworks
Labor Day	Rest or Go to the beach and get obliterated one last time
Halloween	Dress up and eat a bunch of candy
Thanksgiving	Pig out
Christmas	Consumerism

I left out Easter, Juneteenth, and all the non-Christian holidays because not everybody celebrates them (although I’m a big believer that we should all celebrate the end of slavery—like “Anti-Racism Day…or “Togetherness Day” or something). I also think we need a good holiday in August. Maybe move Earth Day to August; I’ve always liked Earth Day and thought it should be a bigger deal.  I also gotta give props mother’s day and father’s day.

So anyway, Labor Day is the only day that has stayed mostly true to itself over the years.  I guess alcohol and capitalism are mostly to blame for the rest of ‘em.

I resolved yesterday that from now on I’m going to give it my damndest to stay true to each holiday’s spirit. On Labor Day, I vow to do absolutely zero work. I’m going to be overly-generous this Christmas.  I’m going to really try and change myself for the better at New Year’s. I’m going to commit hari-kari on Valentine’s.  I’m going to try and give up one of my vices on Mardi Gras.  On Memorial Day and July 4^th, I’m going to take a moment and reflect on all those who have given their lives for what they believe in.  On Halloween, I’m going to scare the everloving shit out of somebody.

And on this Thanksgiving, I truly was thankful for what I have.

Finally, here is some funny shit I found on the internet:

Pick up lines

• “Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?”
• “I have a gun. Walk very quietly with me to my car.”
• “Nice rack.”
• “Hey sweetpea, wanna go halfsies on a bastard child?”
• “I wanna wear your ass as a hat.”
• “Can you help me with this?”
• “Care if I hang out over here till its safe back where I farted?”
• “Wanna fuck?”

abudabu

College Football:

BCS Bowls:

Championship

Ohio St.(1) vs. USC (2)

Sugar

Florida (3) vs. Louisville (7)

Orange

West Virginia (5) vs. Notre Dame (14)*

Fiesta

Texas (11)* vs. Boise St. (9)

Rose

Michigan (4) vs. LSU (8)*

NON BCS 1-Loss Teams

Wisconsin (6)

Heisman:

Best Player	Best Player on Best Team	Most Hyped Player	Current Favorites
T. Smith	T. Smith	Quinn	T. Smith
C. Johnson	Quinn	Peterson	Quinn
Wolfe	Leak	Leak	McFadden
Peterson	Booty	T. Smith	Slaton
Brennan	McFadden	Brohm	Brennan

Sure hope Texas thrashes A&M, Nebraska, and Boise.

Colt Brennan is getting heisman pub; his freshman year at CU he got obliterated and went into this girl's dormroom and pulled out his wang.  That's why he's playing at Hawaii instead of Colorado.

The Toronto Raptors suck balls, but I'm still with 'em.

The Timberwolves need to trade Kevin Garnett.

27 days till I get to come home.  I'm getting stoked.

Fuck fantasy sports, the stock market, and the news.