Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Post Whore/More?
I was told "The key to successful blogging is to blog more often." I'll make an effort. Starting with the following entry.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
2009 In a Nutshell.
So, it's almost a new year. Where the hell did 2009 go? I saw a friend post a Facebook thing with a bunch of random status's that she had posted over the last year. I tried it, and it came back with only a smattering of what I wanted to see. So I clicked the option to customize it, and after selecting all the status's that I wanted to put in there, that I felt were significant, I was disappointed that the application was limiting my space. I mean, the idea of it is to reminisce about the year prior. Did I really live such a busy life that not all that happened in a year fit in one smallish, terribly trendy looking square of color? (sarcasm)
Which is why as I sit here typing, I realize that a lot of stuff actually happened for me this year. I skied with some awesome people last winter. Crazy pow days in NH. Eric from AK made it out east and scored a deep day at Cannon with Conor and I. And Spring. Fires at Dan's place, drinking with friends and getting hammered at the Bunyan Room. I got laid off, and for as bad as it sounds, I have never been so liberated in my entire life. Do I want to go hiking? Do I want to go for a bike ride? Do I want to sleep until noon and get daytime drunk? For most of the summer the world was my oyster.
I got a job, had a sweet going away party, and moved to New Jersey...
...I moved back to Lincoln...3 weeks later.
Since then, I really came into what I feel is myself, finally. In the almost 3 years since graduating college, I have been making a lot of calls based on what I "should" do, rather than what I wanted to do at the time. Was it the most financially responsible thing to do at the time? Yes.
But now, barely making ends meet, I feel more at ease than I have ever been before. I live on the beach, with mountains merely an hour away. I work/live with some amazing people, and while most consider it a sales job, I look at it as helping people figure out a way to make themselves happy. I met many amazing people this year, and I still have an amazing support structure of friends and family.
I thank everyone who has helped make 2009 such an amazing year, and hope to see you all in 2010.
Now I am tired as shit, and going to bed.
Which is why as I sit here typing, I realize that a lot of stuff actually happened for me this year. I skied with some awesome people last winter. Crazy pow days in NH. Eric from AK made it out east and scored a deep day at Cannon with Conor and I. And Spring. Fires at Dan's place, drinking with friends and getting hammered at the Bunyan Room. I got laid off, and for as bad as it sounds, I have never been so liberated in my entire life. Do I want to go hiking? Do I want to go for a bike ride? Do I want to sleep until noon and get daytime drunk? For most of the summer the world was my oyster.
I got a job, had a sweet going away party, and moved to New Jersey...
...I moved back to Lincoln...3 weeks later.
Since then, I really came into what I feel is myself, finally. In the almost 3 years since graduating college, I have been making a lot of calls based on what I "should" do, rather than what I wanted to do at the time. Was it the most financially responsible thing to do at the time? Yes.
But now, barely making ends meet, I feel more at ease than I have ever been before. I live on the beach, with mountains merely an hour away. I work/live with some amazing people, and while most consider it a sales job, I look at it as helping people figure out a way to make themselves happy. I met many amazing people this year, and I still have an amazing support structure of friends and family.
I thank everyone who has helped make 2009 such an amazing year, and hope to see you all in 2010.
Now I am tired as shit, and going to bed.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Shot a Day #2
Memorial Day yesterday. Had a bonfire at Dan's. Had to chop up some wood, which was a pain in the ass, but got to burn an old cedar chest. Took this after throwing on some of the cedar which went right up and burned an awesome orange/red.
"Fire Work"
"Fire Work"
Monday, May 25, 2009
New Project
Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a confession to make. I have been slacking hardcore. I really havent been doing anything photography related besides carrying the camera with me on hikes. And in doing that, I have been more interested in the hiking than actually shooting anything.
So I made a decision yesterday to take one photo a day that was strictly for photo's sake and not documenting a common place every day occurrence. Or maybe a unique take one something that is everyday. I don't really even know what I am hoping to accomplish with this. But I have coined it the "Shot a Day Project". We'll see how it goes. Below is shot #1.
"Party Animal"
So I made a decision yesterday to take one photo a day that was strictly for photo's sake and not documenting a common place every day occurrence. Or maybe a unique take one something that is everyday. I don't really even know what I am hoping to accomplish with this. But I have coined it the "Shot a Day Project". We'll see how it goes. Below is shot #1.
"Party Animal"
Sunday, July 1, 2007
An article written by a friend. Quite comical.
"A large middle aged woman is screaming at me while brandishing what appears to be a pitching wedge. Something seems to have upset her. Excitable, this one. The rest of the crew and myself are a bit worse for the wear, being covered in bruises, and in my case bleeding from one foot. Here's how it happened (cue flashback special effects...)
The crew had decided to go golfing. Why I can't really say. People make strange choices sometimes. For example, people actually watch JAG. As far as I can tell the only redeeming quality to golf is that drinking while doing it is not only accepted, it's positively encouraged. Which is probably telling us something about how godawful dull this activity is while sober. Now, I'm not one of those wishywashy types who needs an excuse to drink, and in fact I tend to think that performing activities that require one to stand while drinking tends to spoil the purity of the act. When you think about it, drunkards have certainly accomplished more in the history of the world than golfers, so I feel that I'm in the right here.
Now I must admit, I had never been golfing before, and so was a bit curious about the whole deal. I decided that there were at least a few good reasons I could think of to go. Namely:
1) Skipping out on work, always a good thing.
2) Drinking during the day is one of the few things I'm actually good at.
3) Someone mentioned something about ballwashers. In retrospect I was perhaps a bit more excited about this concept than was actually warranted.
The outing actually started off pretty well. One of the crew brought a fifth of "Fighting Cock" bourbon. Needless to say, hilarity ensued. For awhile it looked as if we would just sit in the car drinking and giggling every time someone said 'cock'. Amazing the way a bunch of monosyllabic dorks become overachieving Oscar Wilde wannabes when presented with the challenge of using the work 'cock' in unique ways. Nice to see a group of people coming together as a team. Faith Popcorn would have multiple orgasms if she could see the way that we banded together.
After the cocktacular poetry slam in the car, we decided to get down to the serious business of golfing. One of my friends insisted on my using his golfing gear, including the shoes. This would have been OK, but my friend apparently has some clown in his genetic makeup and as such has these wild ass giant feet. This might be a hit with the ladies, but presents some problems when normal people from a non-clown background borrow his shoes. The shoes themselves were pretty cool, with a bunch of metal spikes on the bottom. One could really have fun in these while line dancing for example, but given that they were a couple of sizes too big I was viewing the rest of the day with a certain amount of trepidation.
We all got our stuff together and got out onto the course. It became clear after my drive at the first hole that golf, like nearly everything else, is something that I'm just not any good at. Annoying people, however, is something that I have a real talent for, so I adjusted my mission statement for the day to reflect this. After a few holes just irritating the crew I was starting to get a bit bored. For amusement I decided to leave "Blair Witch Project" style creepy stick figures on each of the greens. These arts and crafts projects started to get more elaborate at each hole, culminating in a 3 foot tall stick figure, with "FEAR THE COCK" spelled out underneath it in twigs. Apparently I have a real Martha Stewart streak in me when if comes to natural art projects, only not quite as evil.
Now I wasn't the only member of the group in the grips of a boredom attack. In particular, one of the crew we'll call the Anthony Monster was at a loose end as well. Happily for him, this particular golf course had an abundance of horse chestnut trees. So while money may not grow on trees, apparently ammunition does. God is great. A couple of warning shots were fired at the seventh hole, and then all hell broke loose.
I have no idea what the proper name is for what we called a horse chestnut. Imagine really hard greenish nut type thingys, about the size of a small lemon. Dense enough to really carry, these suckers were about the greatest type of ammunition possible. Given the sort of drunken miscreants we're talking about here, it should not come as a surprise that a full blown horse chestnut war broke out. It was sort of like at the beginning of a cloudburst where you hear a few raindrops, and then suddenly the clouds just detonate and absolutely dump rain. Only instead of clouds, we had drunken jerks. And instead of rain, we had horse chestnuts.
So, The Horse Chestnut War of 2004 turned out to be a real doozy. It turns out that the people who run golf courses, being an uptight bunch who fail to realize that civilian casualties are inevitable in any war, frown upon this sort of thing. We were at a distinct disadvantage however in that Team Cock was forced to run while the Golf Cops had mechanized troops at their disposal. By mechanized troops I mean a grumpy lady in a golf cart, of course. The ensuing chase would have been a lot funnier to me if I didn't kick a off one of the freakishly oversized clown shoes off while running at top speed and then step on the spikes, however. No major damage was caused, but it was a near thing.
So, to sum up, it turns out that Golf is way more fun that I had imagined.
Lessons Learned:
1) No matter how much you might believe it, you cannot walk on tile in golf shoes that are two sizes too big while drunk.
2) The term 'ballwasher' while factually true, is the most misleading advertising since "The Never-ending Story"
3) While JAG may indeed be a dreamboat, his TV show sucks."
The crew had decided to go golfing. Why I can't really say. People make strange choices sometimes. For example, people actually watch JAG. As far as I can tell the only redeeming quality to golf is that drinking while doing it is not only accepted, it's positively encouraged. Which is probably telling us something about how godawful dull this activity is while sober. Now, I'm not one of those wishywashy types who needs an excuse to drink, and in fact I tend to think that performing activities that require one to stand while drinking tends to spoil the purity of the act. When you think about it, drunkards have certainly accomplished more in the history of the world than golfers, so I feel that I'm in the right here.
Now I must admit, I had never been golfing before, and so was a bit curious about the whole deal. I decided that there were at least a few good reasons I could think of to go. Namely:
1) Skipping out on work, always a good thing.
2) Drinking during the day is one of the few things I'm actually good at.
3) Someone mentioned something about ballwashers. In retrospect I was perhaps a bit more excited about this concept than was actually warranted.
The outing actually started off pretty well. One of the crew brought a fifth of "Fighting Cock" bourbon. Needless to say, hilarity ensued. For awhile it looked as if we would just sit in the car drinking and giggling every time someone said 'cock'. Amazing the way a bunch of monosyllabic dorks become overachieving Oscar Wilde wannabes when presented with the challenge of using the work 'cock' in unique ways. Nice to see a group of people coming together as a team. Faith Popcorn would have multiple orgasms if she could see the way that we banded together.
After the cocktacular poetry slam in the car, we decided to get down to the serious business of golfing. One of my friends insisted on my using his golfing gear, including the shoes. This would have been OK, but my friend apparently has some clown in his genetic makeup and as such has these wild ass giant feet. This might be a hit with the ladies, but presents some problems when normal people from a non-clown background borrow his shoes. The shoes themselves were pretty cool, with a bunch of metal spikes on the bottom. One could really have fun in these while line dancing for example, but given that they were a couple of sizes too big I was viewing the rest of the day with a certain amount of trepidation.
We all got our stuff together and got out onto the course. It became clear after my drive at the first hole that golf, like nearly everything else, is something that I'm just not any good at. Annoying people, however, is something that I have a real talent for, so I adjusted my mission statement for the day to reflect this. After a few holes just irritating the crew I was starting to get a bit bored. For amusement I decided to leave "Blair Witch Project" style creepy stick figures on each of the greens. These arts and crafts projects started to get more elaborate at each hole, culminating in a 3 foot tall stick figure, with "FEAR THE COCK" spelled out underneath it in twigs. Apparently I have a real Martha Stewart streak in me when if comes to natural art projects, only not quite as evil.
Now I wasn't the only member of the group in the grips of a boredom attack. In particular, one of the crew we'll call the Anthony Monster was at a loose end as well. Happily for him, this particular golf course had an abundance of horse chestnut trees. So while money may not grow on trees, apparently ammunition does. God is great. A couple of warning shots were fired at the seventh hole, and then all hell broke loose.
I have no idea what the proper name is for what we called a horse chestnut. Imagine really hard greenish nut type thingys, about the size of a small lemon. Dense enough to really carry, these suckers were about the greatest type of ammunition possible. Given the sort of drunken miscreants we're talking about here, it should not come as a surprise that a full blown horse chestnut war broke out. It was sort of like at the beginning of a cloudburst where you hear a few raindrops, and then suddenly the clouds just detonate and absolutely dump rain. Only instead of clouds, we had drunken jerks. And instead of rain, we had horse chestnuts.
So, The Horse Chestnut War of 2004 turned out to be a real doozy. It turns out that the people who run golf courses, being an uptight bunch who fail to realize that civilian casualties are inevitable in any war, frown upon this sort of thing. We were at a distinct disadvantage however in that Team Cock was forced to run while the Golf Cops had mechanized troops at their disposal. By mechanized troops I mean a grumpy lady in a golf cart, of course. The ensuing chase would have been a lot funnier to me if I didn't kick a off one of the freakishly oversized clown shoes off while running at top speed and then step on the spikes, however. No major damage was caused, but it was a near thing.
So, to sum up, it turns out that Golf is way more fun that I had imagined.
Lessons Learned:
1) No matter how much you might believe it, you cannot walk on tile in golf shoes that are two sizes too big while drunk.
2) The term 'ballwasher' while factually true, is the most misleading advertising since "The Never-ending Story"
3) While JAG may indeed be a dreamboat, his TV show sucks."
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