Biloxxxi's Woodshed

P’Tree Screet

2010 - 03.11

Category Treatises on Life | 1 Comment »

The road system in Atlanta is an atrocity. I swear, the plans were drawn up by someone smoking copious amounts of weed who then threw up on the proposal for good measure. Aside from the interstate system, which is a travesty unto itself, there’s the 71 Peachtree Streets. Yes, you read that right. There are 71 streets in the metro Atlanta area that have some variation of Peachtree in its name.

Today I’m going to help you navigate the cavalcade of confusion caused by all the Peachtrees…

First off, Peachtree Street is the main drag in Atlanta. It’s like Broadway in New York City. There are other Peachtree’s but they all cower before this one.

Peachtree Street – Midtown: The Connector to N. Druid Hills Road

I consider this section of Peachtree Street to be the heart and soul of Atlanta. It runs through its nicest areas, Midtown, Buckhead, and Brookhaven. The Fabulous Fox Theatre is also on this stretch.

View Larger Map

Other Peachtrees to watch out for: West Peachtree Street runs parallel to Peachtree Street. for a few miles in Midtown. It connects with Peachtree Street. on the north end, so it shouldn’t cause too much trouble. There’s also Peachtree Place and Peachtree Circle, but they are smaller roads and there’s no need to be scared of them.

Peachtree Road – N. Druid Hills Road to I-285

Note: Peachtree Street changes to Peachtree Road after you cross I-85. As you head north on Peachtree, Peachtree-Dunwoody Road splits off in Brookhaven and then the road itself becomes Peachtree Industrial Boulevard as you near I-285.

View Larger Map

Other Peachtrees to watch out for: As I mentioned above, Peachtree-Dunwoody Road splits off and heads towards Dunwoody. A smaller Peachtree Road continues for a couple of miles after the Peachtree Industrial Blvd. split, but it runs back into Peachtree Ind. by the old GM plant. There’s also a smaller road, N. Peachtree Rd., that bisects Peachtree Ind. right before you get to I-285.

Peachtree Industrial Boulevard – I-285 to Buford

This is the confusing part of the Peachtree Adventure. Peachtree Ind. Blvd. goes straight up to Buford, but there are several places where another Peachtree bastard child bisects it. I swear, it’s like navigating Henry VIII’s wives.

The good news is, PIB is a limited access road through the first section, so you have to work at it to get lost at Peachtree Corners Circle. The big problem on this end comes when you get to Peachtree Parkway. It splits off to the left and keeps the 141 highway designation while PIB continues north to Buford. A lot of people will refer to this as Hwy 141, which is technically true, but pretty confusing if you’re coming from the south.

View Larger Map

Other Peachtrees to watch out for: Peachtree Corners Circle, Peachtree Pkwy (Hwy 141). Also be careful in Downtown Norcross. They have their own W. Peachtree Street and N. Peachtree Street There’s also a S. Old Peachtree Street in the area, but it only lasts for a mile or so.

Peachtree Street – Downtown: Connector to Whitehall Street

This is the Downtown stretch of Peachtree Street It’s the only Peachtree in the area, so you shouldn’t have any problems. Watch out for the prison as you get near Whitehall St.

View Larger Map

This concludes our Peachtree Street education for today. Hopefully you’ve learned something about navigating the grandest route in all of the ATL (Besides Ponce, of course.)

Grand Theft Owl or Der Humpink

2010 - 03.10

Category The Adventures | No Comments »

Sometimes you get remembered for exactly the wrong reasons. Sometimes it works to your advantage and other times it doesn’t. For example, Ted Kennedy is remembered for his contributions to the U.S. Senate rather than for killing a girl while Tiger Woods will probably be remembered not for being the world’s greatest golfer but for cheating on his wife about 13 times. To a certain segment of our population, I’m remembered for one particularly infamous incident, even though I’ve done a million more memorable things both good and bad.

It was August 2005. I was ready to embark on my last semester of College. The week before classes start back, there’s a week when the Freshmen come in and kinda learn the lay of the land, if you will. This is also when the upper-classmen start coming back to town. Everyone parties in Milledgeville on Thursday nights because most of the school doesn’t have class on Friday. So, the first Thursday back at school is known as Black Thursday. Everyone goes downtown to watch the Freshmen get drunk and then get arrested. It’s like NASCAR. You watch it for the wrecks.

This particular Black Thursday, I think I went downtown about lunch time. So I was good and drunk by 3:00. It was my last semester of college, all my difficult classes were out of the way, and I was in a kick-ass rock band. I left a trail of destruction every time my right foot fell. I did stupid things and I got away with them. Not a bad life.

Anyway, Garr and Jennifer were having a going away party for some friends of theirs. Wiley and Andrew and a bunch of other folks were over at their house swimming and getting drunk. Just the usual. Roman and I had been hanging out together and we decided to venture over towards the party. While in route to the party, we stopped by Andrew’s house, right next door to Garr’s.

Andrew lived in a duplex sort of place. We knew the people that lived in the other part of the house and they sometimes hung out with us. They were cool enough, I suppose. On the porch of the house there was a large plastic owl. It stood probably about 2 feet tall and was really nothing special, just a stupid decoration. I picked it up and was messing around with it when Scott walked out of the house and joined us.

We all headed over to Garr’s and I just sort of assumed the owl belonged to Scott and Andrew because nobody said anything to me about it. I tucked it under my arm and carried it with me.

Aloha Mr. Owl

As the afternoon progressed, we got freakin’ hammered. I mean sloppy-ass drunk. I remember Wiley falling out of his chair once or twice and Scott may or may not have thrown up half a dozen times.

Now, I digress for a moment… Perhaps you’ve seen the beginning of Happy Gilmore, where Adam Sandler’s character humps everything or perhaps this Christoph Waltz gem? I always thought that was hilarious. I’ll get drunk and dry-hump things for the sheer humor of it. It’s all tongue-in-cheek and most people find it funny. Evidently that funny ends once a plastic owl gets involved.

I found our old friend Mr. Owl, walked up behind Wiley and pretended I was humping the owl. Not like going to town on it or anything, just giving it a bit of gentle loving. Somehow, this became the worst thing anyone has ever done ever. Never mind all the unspeakable evils I have seen go down in that house, I get remembered for this, like it was a good old-fashioned kitten massacre.

I added insult to injury by then giving that owl to Garr’s friends as a going away present. Once again, I made an ass of my self by assuming that they wouldn’t actually take it. I was wrong. A couple of hours later, Scott and Andrew’s neighbor showed up wanting to know where the hell his plastic owl was. Uh oh. By this time, I was long gone, so Garr had to track down his friends and get the owl back from them to return to the neighbor.

I was not popular that day.

Author’s Note: I only bring this story up because when the Midget-Town Story was being explained to Garr, he had to be reminded who I was. Unfortunately, this was the one incident that refreshed his memory, from five f’n years ago!

How Do You Like Your Roethlisberger?

2010 - 03.08

Category Treatises on Life | No Comments »

I’m sure everyone has heard about Big Ben Roethlisberger’s little adventure in Middle Georgia by this point. Normally, I’d just steer clear of this subject since everybody and their illegitimate step-son has weighed in on it, but I feel like I have to say something since it happened on what I essentially still think of as my turf.

Here’s the story, in case anyone missed it. Also, this article probably portrays Milledgeville, GA in the worst light possible. It’s a pretty nice place, but just like any other college town, when the sun goes down, the crazy comes out.

Capital City, where the incident allegedly took place, is part dance club, part concert venue. They’ve got a large main room where a DJ spins the latest dance crap and all the little sorority girls and preppy frat boys gather to vertically hump. That’s typically how Thursday nights go down. On other nights, regional touring bands play there. I’ve seen Luke Bryant, Afroman, Rehab, and some version of Lynyrd Skynyrd there. It’s a pretty big room, so you’ve gotta be legit to fill it. We played there once or twice in Idle Yeti to decent crowds.

Personally, I don’t think Roethlisberger is guilty of anything other than being a dumbass. Here’s a guy who has a ton of money, that most people are going to recognize, and he decides to go out drinking in the middle of nowhere, GA with a bunch of drunk college girls. How is this scenario going to end well?

Here’s my idea of how the events went down. Big Ben rolls into town with fist full of dollars and his entourage. They hit up a couple of the local clubs and every girl in a 3 mile radius smells a chance to remove themselves from abject poverty and convenes on his location. A few get let into the circle and backstage-at-an-Aerosmith-concert commences.

I’ve learned through my flirtations with Rock N Roll stardom on a small scale, that the unholy trinity of (perceived) fame, money, and copious amounts of alcohol can lead womenfolk to do things they might otherwise regret. I’ve watched it happen with my own two eyes. Sometimes things just go too far, and for whatever reason, somebody has to get blamed.

Who knows precisely what happened here? Maybe Big Ben and this girl fooled around some and she has a boyfriend. Maybe she feels like she was snubbed in some way and wants to get even. Hell, maybe she just wants money. I feel like every time there’s one of these incidents that reeks of gold-digging it marginalizes situations where a woman is actually legitimately assaulted. Most of the time it takes two to Tango, but the man usually pays for the dance.

Ben Roethlisberger is a great football player, and truthfully he’s about the same age as me, so he’s still plenty young enough to make mistakes. I make them all the time. I’d really hate to see him hang if this is whole thing is trumped up, but if something bad went down, he deserves everything he gets, and then some. Regardless, he needs to find some super models to hang out with. Squiring a 20 year old college student about town is a recipe for disaster. Believe me, I spent six years doing exactly that in the same locale.

PS: Big Ben, next time you’re in the ‘Ville, just hang out at Buffington’s. It’s much safer that way.

Possum Huntin’

2010 - 02.15

Category The Adventures | No Comments »

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I’m sure you noticed. I don’t get all hot and bothered by it, because I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m more of a summertime kind of guy. Besides, in this economy, who can afford a girlfriend? Instead, I chose to spend my sweetheart money on High Life (The Champagne) and Goldschlager (The Clear).

Buda and I decided to head down to Fontaine’s and get some liquor drinks rather than our usual Sunday night Moe’s and Joe’s ritual. To make a long story short, we got a pretty good buzz going and ranted about guns, women, and taxes. You know, the usual.

I ventured back to Narnia and as I was stepping onto my front porch, I heard something scurrying to my right in the bushes. I looked over, thinking it was one of those God-forsaken squirrels that haunt my existence. To my surprise, it was a possum, a big old veiny bastard, climbing up the tree directly adjacent to my house.

“I’m gonna tag that sumbitch!” I thought to myself and looked around for something to throw at it. My first thought was a piece of a 2X4 laying near my steps. I picked it up and immediately thought better of it. The tree the possum was on stradles the fence between my yard and my neighbor’s yard. They park their cars behind their house and if that 2X4 skipped off the tree and smacked their BMW, I’d be up shit creek.

Evil Incarnate

Mr. Possum was snakin’ his way up that tree and I was weaponless. I hurriedly glanced around the porch for something, anything to peg him with. My eyes came to rest on a 3/4 can of Coca-Cola someone left on the porch a month or two back. I raced over to it, picked it up, and rushed back to the porch steps. I kicked open the screen door and reared back and hurled that Coke can with all might.

As I watched it flip end over end, spewing that brown nectar all over God’s creation, time seemed to slow for me. I flashed back to my youth. There I was, 10 years of age, bunting a triple in the bottom of the 6th to win the game for my baseball team. Another scene flashed in my eyes, I was 18, sprinting down the runway of the pole-vaulting pit and launching myself high into the air. I narrowly missed the bar, winning the County Championship for myself. My vision cleared and for the brief second that Coke can was in the air, I was the champion of sport. All the world was my oyster and I was gonna eat. Mmmm nom nom.

The possum was nearly to the safety of the branches when the Coke can struck him; a deft blow to his jowl region. He squealed in pain and the force of the blow knocked him from the tree. The Coke can bounced back into my yard and I heard the possum land in the neighbor’s yard with sickening thud. I’m sure I didn’t kill it, there’s no way I could be that lucky. He probably only fell about 10 feet and landed in the grass on the other side of the fence. But the knowledge that I scored a decisive win over a creature so foul was enough to send me to sleep last night with a mile-wide grin on my face.

Know ye this, Herr Possum: Whence the battle of Good Vs. Possum commences, I’ll be there on the front lines armed with an entire fridgepack of Coca-Cola. Abandon all hope vermin who darest cross into the realm of Narnia!

Won’t You Take Me to Midgettown?

2010 - 02.04

Category The Adventures | 1 Comment »

Another weekend, another adventure. Even something so simple as a trip to Eatonton, GA to go see a couple of former bandmates play an acoustic show gets way out of hand. I recruited a couple of friends, Jacoby and Caroline to go with me. They’re both from out of state and had never seen rural Georgia in all its glory.

Eatonton is not far from Milledgeville, where I went to college; maybe 20 minutes or so. So, after the acoustic show at the restaurant, I took Jacoby and Caroline down to Milledgeville to show them my old stomping grounds. Our intention was to go and hit up a couple of the bars I used to frequent and then crash over at my buddy Joe’s place. That plan hit a snag as we were pulling into town and Joe sends me a text message saying that the new girl he’s dating is “…gonna crash on the couch. Sorry.” Haha, likely story. This ain’t my first rodeo, so I told him not to sweat it and we’d find other accommodations. Worst case scenario, we’d have to get a $40 hotel room.

My next call was to Woodshed Player, Andrew Tecumseh Crider. He’s still in college down there at the distinguished Georgia College & State University, so I was thinking he might be out and we could borrow some floor space at his casa. It turns out that not only was he in town, Wiley and his fiance were in town as well and all hanging out over at another friend, Garr’s, house. By the time we made it to the bar, Wiley and Tracy were already passed out, but Andrew was still ready to party.

First stop: Buffington’s. I worked there for a couple of years while I was in school, and the thing I love most about the place is that even 5 years later, as soon as I walk in the door, I know 10 people. That’s rare in a college town.

Caroline and Jacoby were immediately stoked by the beer prices. A Tall Boy of PBR is like a $1, which is a nice change from the over-priced boutique beers all the rage in Atlanta. I’d been drinking beer all night, so I needed a liquor drink. “Jack & Coke, Good Sir, and don’t scrimp on the Jack.”

Andrew met us at The Buff and we all got pretty liquored up, for a grand total of $16. Hard to beat that, even with a stick. Meanwhile, Jacoby went and made friends with the bass player of the band. She said he looked like a rapist. How that translates into someone you want to meet, I haven’t the slightest clue, but she came out of the deal with a free t-shirt and 2 cds. The girl gets results, and you can’t argue with results.

Quttin’ time rolled around, so we headed back down the street towards Garr’s house. I’d asked Andrew if it was cool if we stayed at his apartment, but he was like, “Dude, just stay over at Garr’s house. He’s got extra beds.” I’d told him to ask Garr to be sure. Garr and I know each other and are cool with each other, but we’re not like best friends or anything. I probably only see the guy 2 or 3 times a year. Andrew swore that it was ok, so off we went.

En Route to Garr’s house, Jacoby decided it to be fun to ride on Andrew’s back while he ran. I’ve seen enough drunken wrecks, concussions, and trips to Grady in 2010 to know this was going to end badly. As I stood there with Caroline watching these fools, I said to her, “They’re going to bust their asses.” Right as finished speaking, Jacoby leaned forward and Andrew lost his balance. He fell onto his knees at first, ripping his jeans. He was able to break the rest of his fall with his hands, but not before his forehead skipped off the ground. I had a hearty belly laugh and then said, “I told you so.”

We got back to Garr’s house and of course everyone was passed out. He’s got these 2 twin sized beds in what used to be the karaoke room. I staked my claim to one and laid down. About 8:30 or so, I hear talking. I also realize that someone is curled up by my back. I looked over into the other bed and I see Caroline. I just sorta assumed that Jacoby was on the other side of her next to the wall. That only left one person who could be in the bed with me. Andrew. Awkward.

Because this body snuggled up to me was facing my back, I couldn’t tell who it was. The mind races in situations like these, and my feet were freezing, plus I had to piss like a Russian racehorse. The talking outside the room stopped and I heard the sound of footsteps going back upstairs. I rolled over and realized that it was Jacoby sleeping next to me. That was a relief, but where the hell was Andrew?

I climbed out of bed to go pee. I then looked around the house only to discover that Andrew had bailed on us at some point during the night. Awesome. Now we were sleeping in a house where the owners had no idea we were there, and the one guy that could vouch for us, had hit the bricks. I crept back into the room and woke Jacoby and Caroline.

“Y’all wanna get out of here before anyone wakes up?” I said. They both agreed and we tracked down our stuff and walked out the front door without anyone noticing. We made it about 2 blocks down the road when Jacoby stopped. “Wait, where’s my cellphone? I must have left it in the house…”

This necessitated me going back into a house that I had essentially just squatted in. It’s like returning to the scene of a crime after you know you’ve gotten away with it. I stepped inside the door and immediately went to look for the phone as stealthily as possible. I dialed Jacoby’s phone with mine, and I could hear it vibrating. I looked around in the bedroom. No luck. “Where the hell is that thing?” I muttered to myself. I heard someone stirring upstairs. “Shit! I gotta hurry!”

I walked back into the living room and dialed the phone again. It was definitely in here somewhere. I dug around in the couch, not there. I pulled off the cushion on one of those huge wing-chairs that everyone has in their formal living room but no one ever sits in and there it is was, laughing at me in all its 1997 Cricket Phone glory. I quickly grabbed it and headed back out the front door, silent as a ninja.

I hoofed it back down to where Jacoby and Caroline were waiting on the sidewalk. “Well, I guess we dodged a bullet on that one, huh?” I asked. “Let’s go get some Waffle House. I need a patty melt.”

Disregard Females, Acquire Currency

2010 - 01.26

Category Treatises on Life | No Comments »

Here’s a post I found in the comments section on reddit. If you’re not familiar with reddit, I suggest you go there, lurk a bit, learn how it works, and then contribute to the community. It’s a great place, with a lot to learn. I thought this was an excellent post. Credit goes to a gentleman with the tag Kerrz. Please drop by and give him some upvotes. (Oh yeah, it’s written in response to someone who has just turned twenty. I’m a good bit past that, but a lot of the lessons still apply in your mid-twenties.)

Put 1tbsp of butter in a sauce pan on medium-low heat, add 1tbsp flour to the melted butter, mix until you get a doughy consistency, and cook for a minute or two. Add 1cup of milk. Season lightly with pepper, parmesan, basil. Let it come to a boil, then immediately simmer it. It’ll thicken up. You now have homemade Alfredo Sauce. Prepare to impress your friends, especially of the opposite sex.
Get involved in the things going on around you, even if it’s just your schoolwork. Sitting in a dark room using a keyboard to talk to people a million miles away is not a social life. Talk to the people at class, even if it’s just about the upcoming test. Join a club or something. Intramural sports are awesome. Varsity are good too if you’ve got it in you.
If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Don’t rush it. It’s nice to be a fiercely passionate person in all walks of life, but it’s a lot less nice to be the guy who can’t think ahead, or the girl who can’t see the forest for the trees.
Slow and steady does not mean glacial. You’re going to get spread pretty thin in life if you’re doing it right. Learn to cut your losses on a project that’s not going anywhere rather than wasting five minutes every two months on it. Better to come back to it refreshed.
Exercise really is important. We harp on it all the time, but if you seriously want to improve the way you FEEL about life: go to the gym. I come from a wrestling background, and Dan Gable is quoted as saying “Once you’ve wrestled, everything else in life is easy.” Same thing with working out. If you go to the gym and work yourself out HARD a few times a week, you will come home and everything else will seem to fall into place.
They’ve all said it already, but it’s got some truth to it. Disregard females. Acquire currency. It’s nice to have someone who is a close friend. It’s nice to have someone who will sleep with you. Do not make either a priority. If you treat people right and respect them, they’ll be there in a few years when you’re ACTUALLY an adult, and you guys can start making plans. However, you don’t want to go out there wasting your time and money on somebody that’s going to have giant life decisions to make in a few years, one of which will be “Has it gone as far as it’s ever going to go?” Treat the opposite sex well, and feel free to spend time with them, but make it a fair deal, not a one-sided pursuit. Don’t waste your time and money on them until you’re ready to make a commitment to someone. (ps- At 20, you’re not ready.)
Take every opportunity to travel. Broaden your horizons. See the world. If you’re lucky, and aren’t digging yourself into student debt, go on foreign-aid jobs during vacation periods. If you’re like the rest of us, and need to make money, look into working abroad for a few years when you’re done. Overseas experience is a HUGE boost on a job application. Many countries offer “working vacation” visas.
Always have fun. Work is hard. School is hard. Find something that’s fun and keep doing it, no matter what else is going on in your life. Make time for it, or use it as a reward, but keep having fun. When your life becomes all work and no play, you become one of the drones helping to make this world a colder, more boring place.
Control your vices. Fun is fun, but too much fun is exactly that: too much. I like a drink. I set aside time and money to partake. It’s not a lifelong commitment, but it’s something I do to socialize with friends. I do not, however, fall down drunk four days a week. No one ever should. Once a week is plenty.
Milestones come and go. Woohoo! You’re twenty! Big deal. You said it already: “it doesn’t feel much different at all.” The same is true with holidays, anniversaries and other celebrations. Too much stock is laid into arbitrary dates. Make every day count. Do things for a reason, not for a season.
The brands you wear are less important than the total package. If you’re concerned about the way you look, it’s better to spend time learning about Colour Theory than it is to figure out where you can find a good deal on designer phones/mp3players/computers/pants/shirts/cars. Buy for build quality, not perceived quality. Buy to last.
Your taste in <insert object> does not define who you are. You are not a collection of songs, movies and TV Shows. Be proud of what you like, but don’t turn it into the definition of your personality (see: Goths, Trekkies, Metalheads.) Experience the multitude and be open to it all.
“Be the change you want to see in the world.” Gandhi was a wise man, and this is probably the most important thing he ever said. No matter what you want from the world: be the exemplar rather than the fool crying for change. Lead by example, and preach from that example, but do not become the hypocrite who strives for a green planet while trashing his own house.
Respect yourself. Far too often in life do we question our instincts and decisions. If you’re faced with unquestionable evidence that you’ve done something wrong, then accept it and move on. Until then, believe in who you are, and believe in what you do. You’re right more often than you’re wrong, even if you seem to be wrong an awful lot.
Get shit done. Work to completion. Finish what you start. Do everything within your power to make sure that the important things in life happen on time and with minimal worry. Procrastination is both a valuable stress-relief tool and a dangerous enemy. Use it wisely.
Learn the value of hard work. If you’ve never had a job: get one. ESPECIALLY if you don’t need it. When I was twenty, this was one of the biggest lessons I had yet to learn. I still haven’t learned the whole of it. Learn exactly what a dollar is worth to people. Learn how much it takes to earn one, and learn how much you can buy with one. Learn the lessons that money can’t buy you at school. Learn punctuality and teamwork in a real environment.
Set your goals and achieve them. Think about it now. Where do you want to be when you’re 25? 30? 40? Retired? Take some serious time and write out some serious goals for your personal life, your career, your fame and renown. If you want to be the billionaire madman with a harem and your face on the nightly news: plan it out. If your goals are much more humble: plan them out too. Even if you just want a nice, simple job with a wife and kids… start planning. Look at the road in front of you, or you’re going to finish school/whatever and be left with no idea where to go from here.
It’s okay to fail. Sometimes you are going to make the wrong decision. Accept it. Move on with your life. No one’s perfect, they only pretend to be. Learn from your mistakes, but don’t be afraid to make them. Someone’s already said it above, but you learn more from what you do than what you don’t do, and when you’re old and dry, you’re going to regret more the things you shied away from than the things you threw yourself into.
Don’t argue on the internet. There are exceptions to the rule. It’s one thing to make a strong argument. It’s a whole other thing to be dragged into a drawn-out fight with an anonymous stranger. Avoid the latter. It’s a waste of valuable time and you’re going to gain what from it? Superiority? Be the better person to start with and walk away from the fool that wants to waste his time arguing trivialities.
Stop asking for advice on the internet. How much time have you spent, TODAY, watching this thread for updates? If you NEED advice, the internet is a great place to get diverse viewpoints. You didn’t NEED advice today, though. Go outside and play.

Constructing A Successful Facebook Status Update

2010 - 01.18

Category Random Hilarity | No Comments »

I was thinking back the other day on just how much Facebook has become part of my life. I joined at some point near the beginning of 2005, so I’ve seen it’s evolution from a relatively simple platform into the monstrosity that it is today. It’s gotten to the point where I’m amazed when I meet someone who doesn’t have an account. Of all the advancements and additions to Facebook over the years, the Status Update is probably the most significant, and also the most misused. Today, I’m going to teach you how to construct a successful Facebook Status Update.

First, we need to get a couple of ground rules laid down…
1. Facebook is not Twitter. Do not treat it as such. I.e. No constant stream of thought updates.
2. You’re given a virtually unlimited amount of characters to type, don’t use text-message speak. It makes you look like an idiot.
3. Although eloquence is typically a positive, it’s far more beneficial to be blunt and correct than eloquent and wrong. Unless you’re a politician, verbiage doesn’t make up for dumbass.

We also need to define a successful Status Update. I consider a successful Status Update to be one that people either “like” or comment on, preferably more than one person. Let’s not kid ourselves, there’s a certain element of vanity that goes into Facebook. You want to portray yourself in the best light and attract people to post new and exciting things on your wall. Maybe even comment on a few of your pics. Facebook friends are made outside of Facebook, but Facebook friendships are cultivated in the online arena, and the status update is your hoe for tending that garden.

Article 1: Know Your Target Audience
If the majority of your Facebook friends are older adults, then a profanity laced tirade may not be the most appropriate tact. The same thing goes for your church-going friends. Write to your audience. Controversy works well, but avoid offending people.
Here’s an example from a Facebook friend of mine: “If you’re a Christian, you should not believe in Santa Claus.”
He’s a preacher, and I strongly disagreed with him, but he didn’t offend me. It also got a lot of responses from a lot of people. Good update.

Article 2: Originality is next to Godliness
If everyone else is saying, “OMFG! I can’t believe Michael Jackson is dead!” What are you adding to the conversation by saying the same thing? Nothing. Unless you’re the first one to post something like this, and believe me you’re not, it’s typically best just to avoid the situation. If you can somehow spin it and make it sound humorous, that’s fair game.
Example: “Insert cliche statement about Michael Jackson’s death here.”

Article 3: Telling People What You’re Doing
As I mentioned above, this type of thing is best suited for Twitter. Personally, I tend to hide folks that constantly do this. “I’m at the mall.” Who gives a shit if you’re at the mall? Certainly not me. Church it up a bit. Say, “I’m at the mall searching for the perfect Speedo to wear to @John Doe’s kid’s first birthday party.” See what I did there? I took a plain-Jane vanilla statement and put three distinct elements in it. Speedos; which are always funny, I included a friend; which typically is good for some cheap laughs, and little bit of creepiness with the whole idea of a Speedo at a child’s birthday party.

Article 4: Pose a Good Question to the Whole of Facebook
Got some burning question about why the world works the way it does? Ask Facebook! Nothing stirs the Facebook masses like a witty question.
Here’s an example I used the other day: “Why is every marginally decent country song on the radio immediately followed by a Rascal Flats song? Every time one of their songs gets played, the terrorists win.”
Stuff like that is always good for a few “likes” and it keeps you Facebook relevant. You might even get a Rascal Flats fan (if there are any) to comment on it. Then you’ve got a Status war going on, which is awesome.

Article 5: Point Out Flaws In Other Peoples’ Status Updates
This is one of my favorite things to do. It bugs the shit out of me when people say “John Doe is loving [insert random object here].” That whole “is loving” or “is hating” thing just bothers me. It just doesn’t sound right. Another thing that bothers me is the improper use of a vs. an. It’s “an apple” people, not “a apple.” Every now and then I’ll get fed up with everyone’s idiocy and make some huge rant Status Update. I can’t be bothered to dream one up at the moment, because rants are acts of passion and you can’t drum up passion at the whims of the fickle masses.

Article 6: Just Steal My Greatest Status Update Ever
“Biloxi Von Lutz is still winning the battle against obesity.”
I don’t know if this is irony or not, but it cracks me up, and that’s the most important element of a successful Facebook Status Update. Good day, that is all.

The Avatar Complaint Compendium

2010 - 01.13

Category Random Hilarity | 2 comments

Okay, I’ll admit, I’ve yet to see Avatar. I’m not really the biggest fan of movie theaters and as far as I’m concerned, nothing will ever be nearly as epic as The Lord of the Rings trilogy. All the ridiculous controversy surrounding Avatar has me intrigued though, so I’ll probably end up going to see it in 3D. As a service to you, I’ve decided to compile all the complaints about Avatar that I’ve read. None of these are actually reviews of the movie. I.e. “It’s bad” or “It kicks ass.” Rather, they are bullshit complaints about it being “racist” or something of that manner.

Audiences experience ‘Avatar’ blues
This involves people feeling like their life has no purpose since it’s not as beautiful as the Avatar world of Pandora. Cry me a freakin’ river.

Is ‘Avatar’ Racist?
Racism is WAY overplayed nowadays. You used to know when something was racist, now everything is. Harden the fuck up, Stefan…

‘Avatar’: Fun Fantasy or Political Statement
Dumb Dumb Dumb Dumb Dumb. Michael Moore’s movies are political statements. Not everything is a referendum on George Bush.

James Cameron Defends Avatar From Anti-Smoking Watchdog Group
So Sigourney Weaver smoked a cigarette in the movie. Naturally, people were outraged, because smoking is the 975th worst thing a child is gonna see in that movie theater. What about that fat tub-o-lard wolfing down a 3-gallon bucket of popcorn with “Juicy” written across the ass of her pants? Yeah, smoking’s way worse than that. Kudos to James Cameron for defending this.

Stop Avatar
Evidently, this group is pissed off because Avatar does not feature GLBT actors. (You can look up that term if you’re unsure about what it means. I don’t want the Google ads associated with it. Not my target demographic). This might indeed be a troll job, but if it is, it’s one of the best ones I’ve ever seen. Be sure to check out the comments section.

Although not technically a complaint…
This is pretty weird stuff. I’ll let you digest it for yourself, but first you’re gonna need a few words defined (thanks to wikipedia).

Therian – A member of the contemporary subculture of Therianthropy.

Therianthrope – refers to the metamorphosis of humans into other animals.

Contherianthrope (from therianthropes.com) – A therianthrope who’s animalistic side is so interwound into their human side the two are indistinguishable. A contherianthrope does not experience shifting but rather feels a constant presence of both animal and human sides at the same time. Contherianthropes have been described as finding it very natural to use both human conceptualization/logic and native animal emotion/instinct, jointly, as combined factors in decisionmaking, dynamically blending each to add richness and insight to the overall process

Hold on tight on this last one, it’s a word adventure into the deep, dark depths of the internets.

My Top 5 Showers of All Time.

2010 - 01.06

Category Random Hilarity | No Comments »

After a suggestion by Woodshed Player Shotgun Johnson, and in reference to this post where I said that the shower I took was one of my top 5, I’ve decided to share with you my other top showering moments. Here they are in no particular order:

1. We’ll go ahead and get this one out of the way. Obviously the one from this past weekend, when my pipes froze and I was filthy from work and it was balls ass cold outside. Read the whole story here.

2. Hiking in Yellowstone National Park – When I was 17 I went hiking in Yellowstone National Park with a few of my fellow Boy Scouts. We were way out in the middle of bear country where we had to tie our backpacks up in trees at night and make sure we didn’t have any candy or anything on us while sleeping. The worst part was we had to bathe in the creek before going to bed to get the food smell off.

I don’t know if you’ve ever jumped in the lake naked in the middle of the winter and every bit of genitalia you’ve ever owned disappears back up in you, but that’s what this is like. Even though it was in the early summer, that mountain water doesn’t warm up. It had to have been in the 40’s. Jumping in a freezing-ass cold creek is one thing. You dry off and warm back up eventually. But what really ruined this was the fact that it rained the whole time.

For three days, I never warmed up. It wasn’t freezing cold, maybe in the 50’s, it was just the fact that I couldn’t dry off at all. Finally, we made it back out of the woods and went back to the Air Force base where we were staying. I must have stood in the shower there for half an hour with the water as hot as it would go. It was awesome.

3. Run-in with a septic tank – My parents’ house still has a septic tank and in case you’re not familiar with them, after a number of years, they start causing some issues. Basically, everything you flush into the toilet goes into this big underground box in your backyard where bacteria break it down and it’s dispersed over time through lines running through your backyard. Poo is pretty fertile stuff so plants tend to gravitate towards it. Tree roots grow to the source of the nutrients and clog the septic lines and mess up all the works. This happens over time to almost every system, which is why most people get their lines and tank replaced every 15 or 20 years. My parents never did.

Throughout my high school years we’d have trouble with the toilets flushing every time we’d get a heavy rain. This was an inconvenience to say the least. Right after I graduated from college, they finally decided to do something about it. They had a guy come over and pump the septic tank out. This required about a week’s worth of work by my dad and I to bust up the concrete from the part of the patio that was covering it.

The guy came by and pumped all the spoo out of the sewey hole and it worked like a champ for about two or three weeks, then it was backing up again. I dug up the junction box to make sure that was clear, but it still didn’t fix the problem. We decided it must be the line between the house and the septic tank.

Dad and I busted the concrete between the house and the septic tank and I got out there and dug up the line. For some stupid reason, the pipe that runs between the main drain for the house (made of lead) and the septic tank (made of concrete) is made of terra cotta. After 30 years, these things have a tendency to deteriorate. That’s what happened here.

As I dug down to the level of the pipe, I discovered that it had become detached from the end of the septic tank and settled about 6 inches. This only left about 2 inches of room for the poo to run into the septic tank. I got the bright idea that I would lift the pipe back up and shove a brick underneath it to hold it in place until we could get a more permanent fix.

My mom was out there with me and she was talking to my dad on the phone, explaining what I was doing, while I was attempting to lift this pipe back into place. I was straddling the pipe and lifting it between my legs. I was bent real low so I didn’t hurt my back, and when I attempted to pull up on it, the pipe broke and shit-water ran all down my back and jeans.

I remember yelling out some obscenity and scrambling to get out of the hole as quickly as I could. I was stumbling over dirt and busted concrete and everything else, all while my mom nearly died of laughter. I immediately rain over to the hose and tried my best to wash the poo off. My mom came over and hosed me off while I danced in the yard like an idiot. After I got the loose stuff off, I went and hopped in the shower, washing every square inch with Gojo, that pumice stuff mechanics use to get off grease. Cleanliness never felt so good.

4. The Mud-Boggin contest - When I was a freshman in college I went to visit a friend that went to school at Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College (ABAC) in rural south Georgia. When you think of redneck, these guys are what comes to mind. As a member of the Dixie Mafia in high school, I had my overalls and my cowboy boots and hat for when the situation called for it, so I packed them up for the trip. On Saturday of my visit, we all decided to go to the Mud-Boggin contest in the next county.

For those of you unfamiliar, a mud-boggin contest consists of a 50 yard stretch of mud that jacked-up trucks try to slog through. Whoever makes it the furthest wins. There are different classes depending on the level of modifications to the truck.

This particular night, at intermission they had a foot-race through the mud. There was a $10 entry fee and the winner got $100. I’ve always been a pretty fast runner and I’m quick on my feet, so my friends paid my way in.

Now 50 yards may not seem like that far, but it’s a mile when you’re running through mud. The race started and I got a pretty good jump. I found sort of a high spot where I could get some decent footing and took off. It came down to me and one other guy who was on the same high spot in front of me. He tripped right as we were nearing the finish line and I ran right over his back to win the race and the $100 prize.

Obviously, after having run through 50 yards of mud barefooted, I’m filthy. Since I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me to the event, I had no choice but to hose myself off and dry out au natural. This made the ride back home a bit awkward. I couldn’t ride in anyone’s car wet and muddy, so I had to ride back to the school in the back of some guy’s truck. It was October and it was freezing.

We finally made it back to the school and my friends were nowhere to be found. So there I am wandering the grounds of the campus trying to figure out which dorm he lived in, when suddenly I have to pee. I find a good spot behind a tree and right as I’m revving up to full force stream, the security guard rolls around the corner and sees me.

“Hey!” He yells.

I immediately cut the stream off and commence to running. I’ve got no shoes on, my wallet and keys are in my friend’s car and the law is after me. After about ten minutes of evading the security guard, I see my friends rounding the corner in their car. At this point, I’m still wet, I’m freezing cold, I’m wearing freakin overalls with no t-shirt, and my feet are cut up from running on the pavement.This situation is totally tits.

It turns out, my friends stopped to help one of the other guys wash off his truck at the car wash, so I was just left stranded. All was forgiven after I got to wash the Georgia red clay out of my underoos in the shower. Oh, and I won $100. That totally made it worthwhile.

5. The shower head incident - I’m not really at liberty to describe this one, but it involved me kicking the shower head off the wall. Let’s just say it was awesome in that way that only certain things can be.

Curiouser and Curiouser

2010 - 01.06

Category Random Hilarity | No Comments »

Jenn, one of the Wharf Rats, has gotten her blog rolling along pretty well. Show her a little blog love and give it a gander.

Curiouser and Curiouser