What's In A Name?

It's always a dangerous idea to talk about people specifically, as I wrote about before, talking about if you write something on the internet, chances are someone will read it. But I will brave the waters this time, but in a vague enough way that if you read this and are self-conscious, you may think I'm talking about you. In fact, you are probably wrong.

Today, I want to write down the clever nicknames I have given people around my latest place of work. In my current position, I have the privilege/curse of meeting and interacting with hundreds of people everyday. It's a curse, because I don't like people, generally. I mean, I hate people but I love gatherings. But seriously, I don't like interacting with people. On to the nicknames! Some of the names don't mean what you would think they mean, btw. There is:

Slowey, due to the slow pace of walking

The second runner-up in the LM look alike contest (which isn't a good thing)

The Nicest Person Ever

The Winner of the K.P. Look Alike Contest.

Hotness

the Pron Star

The Other Pron Star

The Drama Queen, due to her always talking loudly about some dramatic thing on her bluetooth

Ms. Personality

Ms. Thaang

The Soft-Spoken

The Conservative

The Crazy Lady

The Crazy-looking Lady

Brad Pitt in Burn After Reading

The Braves Fan (not me)

White Trash-ish

there's a group I call "The Louds" because they're...loud.

The Nice Guy

Poker Star

Full Disclosure

The Dirty Dirty

The Playa

The Good Singer

the Metal Kid

The Smart Ass (because when I told him I was donating rice to the hungry, he told me it was not worth it)

The Voice

10 Months Pregnant (she's not pregnant, but has looked 10 months pregnant since I started here)

The Worst Friend Ever

The Enabled

The Griever

The Last three are my best ones, if you knew who I was talking about. Most of these are, in fact, mean spirited, but I would never tell anyone specifically what the nickname is for a particular person. Again, let me stress, SOME OF THESE DO NOT MEAN WHAT YOU THINK THEY MEAN. Something struck me when interacting with them that made me come up with the clever nickname. The Poker Star might not ever even play poker. How should I know? Some have their clear reasons, but you would have to be here to know what I'm talking about.

So that's the list. There are probably more, and I hope I didn't leave anyone out. Enjoy imagining what these people are like, based on the name I have given.

You Just Don't Expect To See That.

Have you noticed that my posts are getting shorter and shorter and the points made are getting less and less interesting? I sure did. Let me give a real shot at this.

Tennessee State University is a college located in Nashville, Tennessee. Tennessee State (TSU) is categorized as an HBCU. HBCU stands for Historically Black College and (or) University. Therefore, there are a lot of African-Americans that go to that school. If you're not familiar with African-American culture, I am not the one to familiarize you with it, because I'm really, really white. There is a big difference between white, northern kid culture of me and the predominantly black student base of TSU. Not that I don't fit in, which I guess I don't really, but I'm just from a different part of the country. So naturally, there are some cultural differences I can recognize easily when in that atmosphere. When on the campus of TSU, the one thing you will notice is how nice it looks. The trees, grass, and hedges are well trimmed and it looks like "anycampus, USA." The only "black culture" I have ever really known is what I have seen broadcast on TV, or depicted in film. When seen in person, it's pretty accurate, I guess. Nice cars with big rims. Bass booming out of several trunks. Whatever, these are what you call stereotypes. I have built-in stereotypes because of what I have experienced up to this point in my life. All of this set up is for one of the coolest things I have seen while in Nashville, and specifically, driving on the campus of TSU.

The other day, I was dropping off my lovely wife at work, which happens to be TSU. I was driving away from the middle part of campus, heading out, on my way to work. On the sidewalk was a young black man, heading in my direction. He had on the black denim jacket, the loose-fitting pants, the hair in short braids, all the things that are relatively standard clothing of the youth of today. The major difference with this young man was the fact that he was roller skating. Full-on roller skates, traversing across campus. This caught me off-guard. I did not expect to see someone traveling in this manner, rockin' some skates, because it just doesn't look that cool to do. If I know anything, people try to look as cool as possible whenever they have the chance. So seeing a young man traveling via roller skate turned what would have normally been a regular, boring journey to work into the extraordinary, even for just the split-second that we passed each other.

Fearlessly roller skating like a gangsta.

***As a really white kid writing this, please don't take any of what I have said the wrong way. I know race can be a sensitive subject, but when we can step back and look at it for what it is, which is a difference in culture, not skin color, you should be able to talk about it whenever you want. It's a fact of the world that people are different. I try not to even view blacks or whites or Asians or Hispanics or any other race or nationality as anything other than people with different culture. Sometimes, our pre-existing stereotypes can shine through, even when we try to fight it. My intention here was to indicate that it caught me off guard seeing a young man on roller skates, not to point out the fact he was black. It just also happened to be that he was black. Know what I mean?***

I hope we're clear.

Growing Old is Getting Old pt. 2

The sun is shining, the air is warming up, the birds are chirping and the trees are budding. This can only mean one thing, my friends. Yes, I am drawing ever-closer to getting numerically older. Wednesday, March 31st, 2010, I will be older, according to my birth certificate and my drivers license. 27 years old, to be exact. I would be 28 in China, because they start your age at 1 when you're born. But no, here in the good ol' USA, I am turning 27. This upcoming birthday is a odd one, to say the least, mainly because I don't really care about it this year. Meh, another year older. I always heard people say that and be mystified as to why you would fee that way. I have always been the type to care about my own birthday. I like the fact that it's a holiday just for me! But with the lack of my old friends and family back home, it just feels like Wednesday to me this year. 27 is such an unremarkable age, as well. I don't know, it's just weird this year. On the cool side of things, my friend Dave from my new band shares the same birthday, so that's cool. Only he's a year younger than me, but it's cool because I never really found anyone that had the same birthday as me. Pretty neat.

I imagine this Wednesday will consist of me waking up, eating breakfast, walking the dog, surfing the web and playing Call of Duty and NHL10. Then taking a shower and going to work, then going home and going to bed. In case you didn't know, that's exactly what I do everyday. So I guess I'm really at an age now where it really doesn't matter anymore. You don't get a birthday party with all your friends at Pizza Hut or a pool party at the Ramada anymore. You just get to drink coffee and go to work. I wish I could still do cool things on my birthday, but it just doesn't happen like that anymore.

Have a good one!

Another Pointless Hockey-Related Blog

Today should be a big day for me personally. Tonight I will go to Bridgestone Arena to watch the Nashville Predators take on the perennial powerhouse that is the Detroit Redwings. In case I have not mentioned it before, I am a life-long anti-supporter of the Detroit Redwings.

I always was asked the question when I lived in Michigan why I did not like the Wings. I never really had a really good answer to give, but I just don't/didn't like them. It dates back to around the age of 7 or so, when my friend and hockey player Pard told me that the Redwings suck and the Blackhawks were the best. So I believed him, not knowing any better, and became an anti-Redwinger. That carried over to sometime in the mid to late 90's when I would hang with the Whitford family. They were hardcore Redwing fans and my 13 year old head said "you should oppose their favorite team to get under their skin." So I did. I recall watching the 1996 Stanley Cup playoffs with them as the Wings took on the Winnipeg Jets, and in the next round, the St. Louis Blues. I remember them being all about it, and me not knowing what was really going on because I wasn't that into hockey at the time. Rooting against their favorite team made the games interesting because I had a vested interest in the outcome, therefore, I started to care about hockey. I latched onto the Flyers at first, because they had Eric Lindros, and he was a good player. No other reason. That's the same way I latched onto the Niners and Braves anyway.

So I've always rooted against the Wings. Why? No reason. When Colorado and Detroit had their feud in the late 90's and early 2000's, I became a Avalanche fan. I moved to Nashville, and what do you know? They got a hockey team here, and now I'm a fan of it. The Nashville Predators have actually succeeded in completely distracting me from the upcoming Major League Baseball season.

And now, tonight, I get to root against the long-hated Wings against my adopted hometown team. WHAT FUN!

Drinking and Preaching, BE WARNED

First off, this post was written last night (which is right now, and it was also last night when you read this...get it?) and I have been drinking Yazoo this evening.

So we watched a film called Jesus Camp. I'm sure you have heard of this before, as I had, but I never watched it until tonight. The reviews on the Netflix site were saying it was scary. I didn't really know what that meant until I watched it. I got to tell you, it was seriously scary. I know these people in the film were extreme, but if you've seen anything like that before, which I'm sure you have, you would agree that it is a frightening thing to see. Religious extremists are scary, mainly because they are able to influence many people because of their fear tactics. They can make people afraid of the things they don't understand or can't prove wrong. I am all for people going to church and being happy with their lives with God and Jesus. But when you use those tactics to influence some sort of agenda upon people, fuck you, man. I don't want to hear it, and others don't want to hear it. If you're a religious extremist, fuck you. Don't push your agenda on people that don't want to hear it.

Anyway, Jesus Camp is a scary flick, and I think you should watch it, even though they use some creative editing, which they use liberally. It was very interesting to see the extreme people brain-washing kids. It makes you sad that these kids are told what to think, but they are also told that the thoughts that are put into their heads is their own thoughts.

If you've never gotten the chance to drink Yazoo Dos Perros, you are seriously missing out.

mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Not Showing You The Money

So the NCAA basketball tournament began this weekend. This has been celebrated as personal holiday for me the past six or seven years. Before that, I didn't care if they played with a butcher knife instead of a basketball, because I didn't care about basketball in general. Then one day, a nice coworker or two convinced me that I should give him $20 and I should pick winners for each game throughout the tournament. "But I don't know anything about College Basketball" I said to the nice coworkers. "You'll probably win, then" said the nice men. Ok, I'll do it. So I went into the bathroom of the 60 room and filled out my bracket. I didn't win, but if my memory serves me correct, I almost did. Well, what's the best way to hook a gambler? Let them taste victory, even if it's not really a victory. Let them get close. Let them get excited about what would happen if team A beats Team B and also if Team R loses, you are a big winner, my friend. Well Team B wins and Team R wins and you're sitting there out $20, but you got caught up in the frenzy and feel like it was totally worth it. Hooked for life on the NCAA mens basketball tournament.

Then one day, they up the ante to $50. Still worth it, even if you can't really afford that. That's gas money, my friend. But you pay anyway. And you know what? The prospect of winning that huge pot makes the whole thing even more intense! Then you lose two final four teams in the second round, and you can only be an outside observer, hoping for a miracle/chaos down the stretch. That doesn't happen, and now you're out $50...but it's always worth it.

Then one day, you move half way across the country. You know the tournament is coming up, so you contact the dude that used to run it when you were back home. He says you are free to play if you pay up.

Then you buy a new car. So you shouldn't put money you don't have on the NCAA tournament. So instead, you still fill out a bracket, even with nothing riding on it expect the knowledge that you were smart and picked the games correctly. Then Vanderbilt loses, Notre Dame loses, Georgetown loses...now you don't even have pride to ride anymore.

In case you were confused, I was talking about me the whole time, and I'm not sure why I started talking about "you." These incidents really happened to me. So my interest in this years NCAA tournament is mediocre, luke-warm, and muted. I have interest, because these are always good games and fun to watch even if nothing is riding on the outcome. That's just what happens when you start watching a sport with a vested interest in the result. You start to care, even when you don't have to.

Growing Old is Getting Old

I don't feel like I'm late 20's. I also don't feel like I look like I'm late 20's. When I was 18, I remember knowing folks that were 27ish, and thinking how old they were and how their youth days were so long ago, they don't even understand what fun is anymore. Also, 27 year olds were old looking.

One thing I like to do is ask someone that has no idea what my age is guess what it actually is. That is a pretty good indicator of how old you look, in my opinion. Though some people are bad at that sort of thing, they can usually get an idea of what they think you're age is. Maybe it's because I'm me, but when I look in the mirror, I don't see a late 20's guy. I don't necessarily know what I see, but remembering what I was thinking as a younger man, I don't see someone that's 10 years older than a 17 year old. I guess when you look at yourself all the time, you don't see the little differences that you would see if you never saw yourself. I imagine if I saw one of my classmates from high school, I would think they look much older than I remember then looking in high school. I'm not saying I look like a high schooler...but you know what I mean. I also would have the knowledge that I went to school with them, therefore, I know their age, roughly.

THE POINT: I feel like I'm aging well. This is always a good thing. No one wants to look 40 when they're 30. I hope this trend continues.

Giving Up on Today's Post

It's funny, when I go back and read yesterdays post, I feel like I knew that I was talking about something no one but myself would care about so I ended that thing quicker than the career of either of the "Corey's" careers. Sorry dudes, my bad.

Sometimes, when I decide to write blogs, the ideas just pour out of me. Other times, like today, I got nothing. I want to maintain this thing, and be funny and informative and entertaining and witty and enlightening. I want this to be someones go-to for morning reading.

Blogging is hard. It's hard to be interesting all the time. I'm not that interesting of a guy, to tell ya the truth.

Sorry, today is a cop out day.

Enjoy your day!

Getting Back On-Topic

I'm pretty proud of myself for my performance last week here on Blogger. I managed to write something six out of the seven days last week. Well, technically, I cheated, but I won't go into all the little details.

Today I'm going to go back to an old favorite topic...listening to music.

If you don't want to hear me talk about music again, feel free to hit the X in the corner.

You never want to admit it when one of your most favorite bands in the entire world releases an album and you hear something you don't like. This happened last year, but it took me 9 months to admit it. 311 is one of my most favorite bands of all time, and this is who I am referring to this morning. Last year, they released an album called Uplifter. Please do not get me wrong here, I really, really like the record. I think it's another solid output by 311, even though you can just tell they're getting older and losing any edge they may have once had. But the record was produced by Bob Rock. All I know about Bob Rock is that he also produced Metallica's album St. Anger. For those of you that don't know, everyone in the world hates St. Anger except me. That's pretty much my favorite Metallica album, but that is a different subject altogether. People hated St. Anger because it didn't sound like Metallica. The drums sounded weird. Well, this is the exact same complaint I have with Uplifter. Chad Sexton is the drummer for 311 and I have been a huge fan of him since the first time I heard him. The dude can tear it up, and his drums sound so tight and amazing. He always had this real crisp snare sound that I wanted to emulate (and now do, since I bought a piccolo snare(!)) and was a very distinct identifying sound with Chad Sexton's drumming. On the new album, it sounds like he's banging a tomtom with a snare thingy on bottom. It's all ringing all over the place and not sounding like Chad's snare. Kinda ruins the experience for me.

But Golden Sunlight is a good song.

OK that's all.

The Dream, Catch It!

This coming Friday will be a monumental day for me and my life. Friday, March 19th, my new band, Class Action, will enter a studio called the Bomb Shelter in Nashville, Tennessee to record a demo/EP/LP (either EP or LP depending on how many songs we actually record) that we will eventually get put together into a "press package" to send out to whomever will be interested in hearing a new band, and even get signed. This is the biggest step in my music career to date.

As I may have mentioned before, my life-long dream has been to be a musician for a living. And I'm not talking about a career musician who plays bars and bar mitzvahs. I'm talking about someone that people know and love. I'm talking about being famous, even if it's only on a small scale type thing. I want to feel the warmth from the buzz that I create.

I have never been closer to attaining this dream than I am at this moment right now. And tomorrow I will be even closer. And the next day, even closer. Everyday is a positive step towards not just chasing my dreams, but catching them. I figured when I moved to Nashville, things had much more potential to take off than they did in Michigan. And, ya know? I may just be right.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

You're never gonna believe this people, but I miss the Ojibwa casino more than I thought I ever would.

That's right, I miss just about everything. I'm not saying that I'm getting all sappy and down-in-the-dumps about being away from home. I just miss everything about the casino. Even the addicts. Let me go into detail of a few things I miss/remember about my days at the Casino.

I miss running up the stairs to the break room/time clock area like a speed skater.

I miss stopping over at the coin booth to chat with the lonely looking casher that got stuck there.

I miss watching sportscenter over and over again with Melka.

I miss betting on stupid shit with Melka.

I miss talking about baseball with Mike Berry.

I miss playing Cribbage in the Cashier break room with Mikey, Duke, Guy, Big Dave, Crawford or A-Webs

I miss watching someone play a slot machine and pretending it's my money.

I miss stopping into the bar, watching what's on TV, drinking some Diet Pepsi chatting with Bartenders and Waitresses

I miss spending an unnecessary amount of time watching YouTube videos in the Tech Office.

I actually miss getting yelled at by Seymour. (just a little, but not totally)

I miss working midnights, getting my paycheck right at six a.m. even though I can't leave to cash it for 2 hours.

I miss troubleshooting a problem on a slot machine

I miss talking about Softball and the League

I miss the Onion Rings. Seriously, those were damn good.

I miss talking Basketball with Ryan Higgins.

I miss hearing Duke play the same 3 System of a Down or Fall Out Boy songs.

I miss guessing the number on the Roulette wheel.

I miss Melka talking about how much he loves Aerosmith.

Most of all, I miss every single person that worked there. Every last one of them. I thought of Chris Hillier yesterday. How he's all weird on the outside, but really, he's just a computer nerd and harmless. BJ, Dewey, Garm, Butt, Duke, Mikey, Goob, Jay, Mary, Rob, Tom and Kim VanLinden, Jesse, Shawn, Jake and Dawn, Rick, Super Sarka, Michelle, Gabe, Ryan, Plesh, Chris Higgins, Big John, Lil Johnny and Christine, Dave from Housekeeping, hell, all of housekreeping, All the Cashiers, All Security, All attendants and supervisors, all Bartenders and Waitresses, all techs that have come and gone, all the Dealers, all the pit bosses, all the Guest Services people, even Surveillance.

Yes, I can't go back, and I will always have my memories. I hope to see you all again soon enough. Really, It's only been a mere 10 months since I worked my last shift at the casino (the night of May 14th, 2009) but it really feels like ages ago. It's funny, this started out being a normal blog about missing the casino, not in an emotional way, but now that I think about it, it's hard not associate any feelings to these things. I miss em all. I hope they feel the same way about me.

Panera Cashes In On Your Diet

I read an interesting article in the newspaper again yesterday. This seems to be becoming a common trend here, and that's a good sign for me to not cancel the newspaper subscription. Anyway, the article was about Panera Bread. It talked about how the company will start listing the calorie content of their menu selections. According to the picture that accompanied the article, this public display of calorie content will appear right along the side of the item on the big sandwich board behind the registers, or wherever they put them. I'm meaning to say, you don't even have to open a menu to see the content.

There has been a bit of an uproar in the Nashville area in the last couple months because legislators have been trying to make chain restaurants post their calorie content on their menus so that the tubby Tennesseans can know just how quickly they're killing themselves with their food choices. Couple things about the south I should mention here. 1.) The people down here like to eat. When they eat, they eat a lot. The portion sizes are absolutely unnecessary. We went to an Italian place and the waiter explained to us that the food portions are "southern-style, which means they're enough for two, at least." 2.) They love their chain restaurants. Every time we drive by the Cracker Barrel, the place is packed. Every time. They love their Applebees, Chilis, and Logan's. You dream up unhealthy food in your head, any unhealthy food, and they not only eat it, they eat a shit-ton of it.

So, since everyone knows this, they the city wanted to post the calorie content. I say do it, but you wouldn't believe the uproar it caused. Guilt-tripping people into making better choices is at least getting someone to make a better choice.

Back to what I was talking about at the beginning, Panera is posting their calorie content on their menus. Good idea. But in the article, the Scott Davis, the company's Chief Concept Officer is quoted as saying "So, when you look at making a choice between a soup with 100 calories and a sandwich with 300 or 400 calories, it puts it pretty clearly what's in your best interest."

I'll tell you what's in the best interest of Panera. From what I have come to learn, a bowl of soup at Panera would cost you $3.29 to $4.49. I assume that price is ridiculously high, in the way that they would generate more profit from selling a bowl of soup than a turkey sandwich. So when you look at the menu and see that the soup is cheaper and better for you than the sandwich, you'll chose the soup and the company cashes in.

WELL PLAYED PANERA!!! Make yourself look like you're taking responsibility, when you really want to sell more soup. A double win for a smart company. Now to be honest, I am only assuming the company will make more pennies on the dollar on a bowl of soup than on a sandwich, and I don't have the facts. But just knowing that soup is generally cheaper to produce than a sandwich (it's mostly water, how can that be a higher cost to produce) makes me believe that this is clearly the reason to push the soup.

Conan is still funny and celebrating a special holiday

I believe I have talked about Twitter before, but damn it, I'll do it again. If you hadn't noticed, Conan O'Brien decided to join Twitter. This is cool because Conan is everybody's hero. He's funny and we all miss him on TV. I don't remember a time when Conan wasn't on TV, because of my age. So anyhoo, last Friday, Conan decided to randomly follow someone who was following him. The person he randomly chose was Sarah Killen, from some po-dunk town in Michigan (shout-out) and said he would "change her life." It seems to have done exactly that. All of a sudden, she's on morning radio shows, CNN, Good Morning America, and I'm sure a number of other programs. Someone bought her a computer, and have helped her out with her coming wedding. This is amazing to me. I mean, people win stuff everyday, like the lottery, reverse flying V guitars, and other killer things, but this one is different if only because it was all made possible by the human touches of Twitter. The people that Tweet are real, and you can potentially have contact with the famous.

There are some people out there that feel that this is something that is not really that important and you have your own life to live or whatever. But to me, having a sort of connection with someone famous is pretty cool. I recall one criticism of Twitter that some people have brought up is the argument of "who cares?" Well you know what? I care. I want to know what Ashton ate for breakfast (even though i stopped following Ashton because he is useless on Twitter). I want to know what Jessica Alba is reading, or what Chad Ochocinco is doing this weekend. I care because these people are just people, who happen to be in the public spotlight. I'm a person, you're a person (presumably) and I care about what you are doing. I know it's hard for some people to understand, but I care about that. Even if it's just a temporary escape from everyday normal life. You can't just go through life bashing what other people enjoy. What a miserable person you would be. I'm guilty of this sometimes, but not nearly as much as some other people.

On a side note, today is 311 day. This is a national holiday for all fans of the band 311. Every other year, they put on a special concert to celebrate 311 day. Usually it involves them playing for approximately 4 hours, covering most of their catalogue, which dates all the way back some 20 years. It's really an impressive thing to see, that one band can give back to their fans with a concert that is so awesome. I am in envy of those that are privileged to attend. This year, they are offering a webcast of the concert on their website for a small fee. I doubt I will take advantage of it because I have to work tonight, but I would love nothing more than to watch that. Oh well...maybe in 2012?

So happy 311 day everyone, and always try to remain positive!

(ed. The 311 day concert is an entire 5 hours, not 4. even better)

I'll take a pack of Camel Lights please.

So it's no secret at this point that attempts to quit smoking are over for the time being. I already talked about that. So let me talk about enjoying cigarettes instead.

I have smoked Camel brand cigarettes for my entire adult life. All other cigarettes taste like shit compared to Camels. Camel switched their blend of their filters and lights back in 2008, I believe, and they were seriously improved. Anyway, I had been smoking Camel Turkish Royal for years before the blend switch, but they were becoming increasingly difficult to find at the store. So when I found out that the new blend was a serious improvement to the taste of a Camel Light, I switched to those and haven't looked back.

As you may have noticed back in 2009, legislation was passed to give power to the FDA to regulate the tobacco industry. The first announcement they made was that they were going to do-away with labeling cigarettes as "Light" or "Ultralight" because this gave the impression to the consumer that having a Light cigarette was safer than having "full flavor" cigarette. There is a big difference. I was worried that getting rid of "light" cigarette labeling would mean the end of my Camel Lights and I would have to smoke full flavor, which make my lungs hurt.

Then I completely forgot about the whole thing, altogether.

That is, until this morning. I went to my friendly neighborhood Exxon store and purchased two packs of Camel Lights. People, I did not get what I asked for. I set the new packs I bought next to the old pack that I hadn't finished yet, I noticed that there was a bit of a difference. One was labeled Camel Light, the other? Camel Blue.

Camel Blue? Well, at least I know they're not ditching lights. They are literally just not labeling them light anymore. Will that change how people view them? No, not if you already know that the Camels in the blue and white packages are the lights. That's what they've been packaged as for so long now, you're only fooling the fools.

So in case you were wondering, Camel Lights are now Camel Blues. Check it out sometime.

Why Can't I Grow A Beard?

Some would consider it a blessing. I call it a curse. That sentiment would seem a little extreme, but I'm extremely unhappy that one particular family gene was passed onto me.

I rarely have to shave my face. One time, I didn't shave for an entire month. That month was November 2008. I participated in No-Shave November, and you could hardly tell. I grow sporadic hairs here and there on my chinny-chin chin, a super-thin mustache, and absolutely no sideburns. I get a lot of annoying peach fuzz all over my cheeks, and that's really about all. I shave about every two or three days, simply because I kind of enjoy it. To be honest, the little hair I grow does get annoying for the fact that it's prickly. But it's not like I go for the clean-shave look because it best suits me. I shave because I look like a 14 year old if I don't.

I was passed on this non-hair-growing-on-the-face gene from my father. Thanks, dad. My brother was the same way as I was until he hit 23 or 24 when all of a sudden, he was able to grow out a strangely colored goatee (Red, when he has not red hair). I figured when I hit 23 or 24ish, I would also be able to grow out a sweet goatee or beard or whatever as well. This never happened. I'm nearly 27 now and I still can't grow any. I didn't know my dad also struggled to grow facial hair, that's why he never shaves his mustache, because it takes forever for it to grow back. I always knew my dad as having a mustache. I guess this is why. But my mothers side of the family can grow the beards like a motherfucker. My Uncle Pete plays Santa at Christmas because he can grow the real beard, down to his friggin' chest.

Now, about the blessing and curse part. Most people I know have to shave everyday or else they have the prickly hairs all over their face, driving them nuts. I envy those that can grow a beard in 3 days but don't want to. If I could grow a beard, I would be doing all kinds of fun stuff with it. Just a mustache one day, soul patch the next. Full-on beard one day, mutton chops the next. I'd do the ugly Triple H thing where its the beard with the chin part cut out. I'd grow a handlebar, Hulk Hogan mustache. I'd cut in a Hitler for a few hours, then shave it off before I offend anyone. There's so many fun things to do with facial hair, I don't see why anyone wouldn't do any of these, except of course, work requirements of professionalism. I like to do things for a laugh, especially when poking fun at myself. It's what I do to lighten people's moods. Funny facial hair would be IT!!! But I can't. I just physically can't do it.

So for everyone that has to shave everyday and curses that fact out loud, please keep me in you're thoughts when doing so. I hate that I can't grow a beard. Does that make me crazy?

Please steal my things

Everyone should know by now that I'm about 2 weeks behind what's abuzz usually. Not by choice, but because I usually don't think what was abuzz was of much importance when it was abuzz. No, it usually takes me a week or two to realize what everyone was talking about. Also, I was going to talk about what I'm going to talk about when it was abuzz, but I played video games instead.

Did anyone catch any of that? Let me try to clarify.

A few weeks ago, I read an article in the trusty Tennessean about a website called PleaseRobMe. Basically, it takes the information people have posted on FourSquare, especially the ones that post their FourSquare updates onto their Twitter pages, and shares them with the world. As I talked about yesterday, FourSquare lets everyone know where you are and how often you visit, earing points or whatever, and making you look cool because you go to Panera Bread 9 times a week. Having a website like PleaseRobMe makes sense to me, it's public information at this point. You tell people you're not home, and that might indicate that no one is home. You're basically saying Please Rob Me. PleaseRobMe is a service not to encourage that people actually steal other peoples shit, but to make others, like me, more aware of what they're actually sharing via social networking. This whole thing goes back to what you should and shouldn't post on the internet. I have become self-aware of my web presence in the past few weeks and how it can be hurtful, because as it was pointed out, you can say things digitally, and someone will eventually read it. Feelings can be hurt, jobs can be lost, et cetera et cetera. But the idea of not telling everyone in the world you are not home, I honestly never thought of.

I remember suggesting to my mom that it would be fun to change the answering machine message whenever we went out to the store or wherever, to tell people why exactly we weren't answering the phone. I felt it would be of service to our friends and family to share that information. She told me it would be a bad idea, because someone we don't know could call to scope out our house to rob it, hear the customized message on the machine and know we weren't home. Makes sense to me. So I abandoned my plan to enlighten our callers. That concept never crossed over to me when it came to updating my Twitter or Facebook. If someone was scoping you out, you just told them you are not home. Bam, no more PS3, laptops, big screen, dog, Wii, blah blah blah. In fact, sharing your whereabouts via a social networking tool is tenfold worse than just leaving a up-to-the-minute status update on your answering machine. People have to actually call you to hear you personalized message on the answering machine. They just have to search you on the internet and wait for you to tell them the information.

You think to yourself, "I have Renters/Homeowners Insurance! I'm good." How much you wanna think they're gonna give you when they find out you told your robbers you weren't home, come take my things? Good luck with that.

So in the future, I'm going to be careful of what I say about where I'm going/for how log. I don't want to get robbed.

(a little P.S. here at the end of this...This took me so long to finally write because the Please Rob Me website doesn't really work properly here on the work computer, and I kept forgetting to investigate the inner workings of the site on my free time at home, so I've been putting it off and putting it off until I eventually just decided to write this blog today even without really checking out the website. If you do, let me know if it's cool or whatever. Thanks.)

So we stand in these little boxes and smack a ball at each other?

Alright folks, this one has been brewing in my brain for a while now. This particular blog I'm writing feels a little different than usual. Normally, I would talk about about something I'm familiar with or have/going to experience(d). This is Different. And I like it.

What do we know about the term Four Square? What do we really know?

A quick search tells us that it's a game played on playgrounds across the nation, perhaps even world. It's one of those playground games that we had out there that no one knew how to play so no one did, similar to Tether Ball, but no one played Tether Ball because it was kinda dumb. (no one can take more credit than Napoleon Dynamite in the proliferation of the game of tether ball, and the game is now viewed in a much more positive light.) We had the four squares painted on the ground, and no one cared. Four Square can also be referring to a Supermarket chain in New Zealand, an educational writing tool, the leading brand of cigarette in India, a Canadian educational show for preschoolers, a British game show, a pinball machine from the early 70's, or a floor plan for a modest, two story house in the United States.

Why I was interested to look up Four Square was not my desire to find a new (old) fun game to bring into the spotlight of American culture, which I of course have the power to do, but it was because I had heard about a new social networking tool bearing this name that was sweeping the nation. It was featured in USA Today and as I read a bit of the article a few weeks ago, (yes, I am once again way behind the times here), I thought the concept was cool enough to investigate. From what I understand, using FourSquare, you "check in" to places you go to regularly, and get points or something for doing so. If you visit it enough, you become mayor of the place and can do cool things, or something, until someone else comes around and takes over by visiting that site more than you. This is a game, and one in which I'm sure business owners are loving because you win by going somewhere. People inherently enjoy winning things, even something as trivial as visiting a store or museum or water park or whatever, more than anyone else. Games are good for the psyche, because you can win, and winning is as American as apple pie.

I'm not sure I'm ready to embrace FourSquare, partially because I think you need a "smart phone" to play it. Therefore, I'm out for now. This might not be true, but I don't really need another social networking distraction right now. I have enough to keep me busy as it is. Additionally, I shouldn't play this game because I will lose, because I never leave the house. Cool concept, but there's also a downside....

A dark side to this wonderful idea, that will leave you without much inside. By inside, I mean inside your house...

Pt. 2, tomorrow

When did you start liking hockey so much?

this morning, my wife asked me a very interesting question.

"Why do you all of a sudden like hockey so much? Is it because of the fact that we live in a hockey town now?"

I couldn't immediately answer her. This is very true, that it does seem that I have all of a sudden become a major hockey fan. It's all I think about these days. I don't know, but the Olympics surely helped. But moving to a town that has an NHL team helps more. I can latch on to a team finally, and not just hate the Red Wings. I could care less about hating Detroit Hockey. I only care about the Nashville Predators. I don't know, do I have to explain it? I have always liked it, but now I love it more than ever. Thank you, Predators.

Playing a lot of NHL 10 is a good reason as well. I returned a duplicate copy of NBA Live 10 last Monday and used it towards the purchase of Hockey at my friendly local Game stop. They gave me $26 in credit towards a trade-in, because of a promotion they were running at the time, and NHL still cost me $40. I'm pretty sure that's way over-priced. I probably got it off ebay for nearly the same price and sold NBA for about equal value. But you know what? I wouldn't have done it. The best option for making money on something like a video game (selling it) is always the least convenient. That's why establishments like Game Stop exist. Lazy people like me that could get more money elsewhere, but choose convince.

Well played, Game Stop.

On a blogging front, I haven't grown tired of blogging, I just don't have the time of day to write anymore. I just get wrapped up in other things (NHL 10). So I apologize for not writing, and I will make a better effort to change my ways.