None of Bobby's friends thought it was a good idea, but he had made up his mind and he didn't see that there was even a choice to be had: risk it all, or never even have a chance of acquiring his dream. Once Bobby makes up his mind there is nothing stopping him and he had his heart set on the Fretefyer 5000.
Bobby is a unique kid. Not many people have the virtues Bobby has; some people would say it's because he is still just a kid, but I think it is more. Ever since Bobby was little he set himself apart from his peers. He would often be found in school by himself painting or playing make believe during recess. As Bobby progressed through school so did his hobbies. Bobby was never an athlete and got decent grades, but I don't think he would have even stayed at school if it weren't for Mrs. Richardson, his high school music teacher. Bobby had been taking lessons for guitar before he made it to high school and really took a liking for the instrument, but it wasn't until high school music where he was inspired by Mrs. Richardson and found a band that fit his taste that he really became passionate about his instrument.
The summer after freshman year came around and Bobby had already put $50 of his own savings down at Music Mayhem toward his Fretefyer 5000. He got a job packing groceries and had a payment plan set up with the manager of the store, Paul. He would have his new guitar just 3 weeks before the battle of the bands was to occur- late September of the next school year. Bobby visited the Fretefyer 500 at Music Mayhem once a week throughout the summer and as it came to an end he visited even more frequently.
With two weeks of summer left and just four weeks before he would claim his prize, Bobby stopped by Music Mayhem like he had many times before. This time was going to be different. As Bobby stood in awe in front of the Fretefyer 5000, a well-dressed man entered the store without interrupting Bobby's trance. The nicely dressed man's name was Thomas. Thomas, a man with no respect for money, wasn't even in the store for himself. He came to purchase a guitar for his girlfriend, who decided to pick up guitar. Thomas' girlfriend, like Thomas, also knew nothing about guitars and it was just another one of her silly whims that she had the privilege of practicing because of her boyfriend’s parents.
Thomas approached the store manager, Paul, inquiring about some guitars. After a short amount of small talk, it became very obvious to Paul that Thomas did not know very much about guitars and was prepared to spend a healthy dime in his store. Paul led Thomas to the guitars and was showing him the most expensive. Some were even signed by well-known artists, but there was nothing Thomas really liked. As Paul led Thomas down the isle, Thomas' attention moved from the wall of guitars to a boy -- Bobby. Thomas caught sight of what held this teenager's attention and knew he needed to have it. Bobby fell out of his trance as his Fretefyer 5000 fell into the hands of Thomas.
"Hey guy! That's my guitar."
Thomas, ignoring Bobby, turned to Paul and said, "I'd like to buy this one."
Some people would see a problem with this scenario, but not Paul. All Paul could see was opportunity. After five minutes, Paul already had the price bumped up and a battle for the highest bidder took place. Thomas and Bobby both knew what would happen if this went on any longer. At the current price Bobby would be hard pressed to get the guitar a week before the Battle of the Bands. Bobby needed to do something drastic.
"You don't even know how to use it!"
"Why would I be buying it kid!? You would just break this fine guitar."
"Prove it then. Prove you can play better than I can"
"Sorry kid, I don’t have time for games." Thomas turned to buy the guitar.
"It's Bobby, and I'll buy it for you if you can play it better than me." This started to pull Thomas' attention
"Now, Bobby," Thomas said "You've put me in an uncomfortable situation. I could take you up on the offer, and most likely beat you, but you don't even have the money to buy it."
"He's right Bobby, don't do something you'll regret. I can give you store credit on any other guitar with the money you've already given me." Paul said,
"No thank you Paul, you've been too helpful already. I'll work it off and buy it for you over the next 3 weeks. So what do you say Thomas?"
I think Thomas knew better, but his ego couldn't let this slide. "Alright, one week from now, this parking lot?"
"Perfect."
"Don't forget to keep paying, I don't want you be short on the money."
"It's not my money you have to worry about." Bobby attempted with an aggressive air guitar in Thomas' direction.
One week later Bobby’s friends were at his heals urging him not to go. Even his band mates told him to use the money for another guitar. When Mrs. Richardson found out she even offered to drive him anywhere within 100 miles to find the guitar, but Bobby couldn't back down. Thomas on the other hand was slightly worried. He told people he played guitar once when he was in college, but even in his prime he wasn't all that good. The bell rang at 2 pm like it did everyday and like most days Bobby headed off in the direction of Music Mayhem, only today he wasn't alone. Neither was Thomas, as he cruised through town in his BMW with his girlfriend. Bobby and his friends arrived first to find Paul setting up equipment outside his shop.
"What is this?" Bobby asked
"If this is going to happen it's going to happen right."
"No Paul, I'm talking about these ropes."
"It's two dollars admission." Paul stated as he approached the mob with an open hand. Mrs. Richardson started to pay for a few of the kids who didn't have money, but most of the kids just walked right under. Paul would have stopped the whole operation if it were up to him, but Mrs. Richardson shot him the look only a mother could give to a child that freezes them in place. Paul didn't mind letting a few kids slide by.
Thomas rolled up slowly from the far side of the parking lot. He came to a stop across two parking spaces got out of his car and opened the door for his girlfriend. A nice gesture, but if you ask me it looked rehearsed. Many of the kids are booing and hollering names at this point but their heckling is cut short by the overpowering sound of Paul’s voice.
“Ladies and gentlemen, gather around for the one and only guitar-off! The winner of this guitar-off gets to take this beautiful piece of craftsmanship, this instrument of the gods, home on Bobby’s dime! There are plenty of deals going on inside so when the show is over stop on in. Now would Bobby and Thomas step up here? Which one of you two would like to go first?”
Bobby stood still saying nothing.
“Let the kid go first.” Thomas said ass he caught eyes with Mrs. Richardson and threw her a wink, which wasn’t well received.
Without saying much of anything at all Bobby stepped forward and Paul tried to hand him a guitar but Bobby past him with purpose. Bobby went to the stand where the Fretefyer 5000 was on display for the crowd and took it off.
“Hell, even if I lose I’ll still get to play it live once.” He reasoned with his previous actions that squeezed him so tight he could barley breath.
After Bobby got all plugged in he took a 5 second pause, which for him was an eternity. Just long enough for Thomas to get it in his head that he Bobby cracked under pressure. Bobby then strummed one slow upstroke on an open G chord. At first only Mrs. Richardson recognized what was about to be played, then his band members, then the majority of his friends. It was a song that he wrote before he came to high school as a classical piece that Mrs. Richardson really helped bring to a new level. Bobby then took this song to his band where it became more of a pop song. But no one had heard this version of the song before despite being indistinguishable to the ear. Bobby brought the mood of the song from tranquil to chaotic and back again. It was as if Bobby was telling a story with just the guitar. All his fans had heard him play but not like this. The fans moved from cheering to silence to a roar. Bobby laid down a masterpiece. His peers were cheering and Bobby’s eyes scanned out across the crowd and his eyes fell toward the makeshift stage and he gave a small bow before handing the guitar to Paul. When he turned Paul had a calm but serious face on and Paul said to Bobby.
“I am sorry I was going to sell that behind your back.” Then Paul raised the megaphone to his mouth and triumphantly announced.
“Bobby is the winner of the guitar-off!”
Bobby couldn’t believe his ears. His eyes frantically looked for Thomas’ rebuttal but he was nowhere in sight. Bobby had scared Thomas away.
Paul continued, “The Fretefyer 5000 is yours to take home! The crowd loves you, take a bow!”
And so the Fretefyer 5000 was finally Bobby’s. It’s rightful home. Bobby and his band went on to win a gold ribbon at the battle of the bands and last I heard they were regularly booking gigs around the area, they usually save Bobby’s song for the encore.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Bobby and the Fretefyer 5000
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Freezing time
Pretty sweet public stunt
http://current.com/items/88830919_time_stops_at_grand_central
Drinking Games
I will explain some drinking games that I think are healthy for a drinking party or I particularly like.
Beruit.
Shoot ping-pong balls into cups against another team. I know this game was gayed and exploited in the New England, and most likely the entire country but it is still a good game.
This game is good for small parties and large parties, but you end up being antisocial in medium parties if you are any good at this game. Moderate drinking.
Beer Ball
I like this game. If you walk into a room and people are playing this you will enjoy the show. Get a teamate and some competitors and put a full can of beer in front of you. Hit their beer with a ping-pong ball from your side of the table and your partner starts chugging until the other team retrievs the ball and taps it on the table. The shout "stop" then it is there turn to shoot. Stay on your toes. Moderate drinking.
Liar Dice
5 dice in a box. This is a fairly fun game I learned in Minnesota. Shake the box and pass it after declaring what you rolled (or lying about it). The person who recieves the box needs to believe or disbelieve. Either way they look in the box, if they believe they need to beat the roll declaired. Any triple beats a double, no straights, no full houses, ones are wild. You can take the ones out and place them on the table before you try to beat the roll. If you disbelieve drink if they were right and make them drink if you called their bluff. Think about bluffing below what you rolled. Minimal drinking.
Kings, Up-and-down the River, Fuck the Dealer
These games are all some of the games I love at a party because it brings people together but noone cares if people join or leave. It's good fun and you get to know people. Moderate drinking on all accounts.
Flippy Cup
Get even teams and be the first team to finish drinking your cup and flip it 180 onto the table. One of the messiest, loudest, exciting games that a party can offer. Extreme drinking.
Chandeliers
Think Quarters on speed. Gather your friends around a table with a solo cup per head and fill with a healthy swig of beer. If your cup gets hit chug it fast (you get skipped if you dont have beer in your cup and on the table) and rotate who shoots around the table. Shoot till you miss. If its a big game have two shooters. Extreme drinking.
7-11-Doubles
Roll two dice, if you get 7 11 or doubles fill a central cup with as much of your victim's beverage as you chose. They need to drink it and when they start to chug you get your chance to roll again for 7 11 or doubles and making them drink again. Be nice in the beginning otherwise you'll get bitten in the ass later. Usually ends up with extreme drinking.
7-11-Troubles
A hybrid between the children's game Trouble and the drinking game. You have to get taught this game by me Tom or Sara. This game has a special place in my heart hahaha. Death drinking.
Turrets
Flip a card and be the first person to say a word that isn't a number or proper that has the same first letter or the number flipped i.e. I flip a three. "trigger!, tool!, twat!" If you get bored play with the second letter. Minimum drinking.
There are more but I am lazy
What January left me
It's been a while, I think I went an entire month without posting... So there is a lot to write about.
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Some evil sites from the depths of the internet have been floating around that I would like to forward with a disclaimer: I haven't even watched some of these, and I am concerned I can get in trouble from posting the links directly. They burn holes in your brain but I'm sick of relapses when people (dan) want to fuck with people. Also, please record yourself and send me the video when you click the following:
Self-censorship is sometimes important!
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I veneered my boyscout hat's brim over winter break. The urban crowd likes to leave their stickers on their hats, I am going to start leaving branches attached
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Sorry about the links above. This should cheer anybody up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OBlgSz8sSM'
"ouch. OUCH!"
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http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/meast/02/01/internet.outage/?iref=hpmostpop
The third cable cut in three days. Suspected to be the victim of anchors.... Doty was the first person to send this to me and I overlooked it, big fuckin deal, a few people need to deal without the internet for a few days... nope, Dubai has to deal without the internet. Iran has no internet whatsoever. Eh.. doesn't affect us new topic
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"You went to prison!?!? What was it link?? My goodness.. you are dangerous.. What could you do to me?!?? Don't do it. Don't do it! doit. Don't do it!"
There are many people to thank for the success of this in my friend circle, but Rachel I think wins MVP.
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I don't have comments for this webpage, take a look (safe): fuck i can't find it, but they came out with a hamburger in a can. If you care catch me online sometime and i'll give it another look.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sea Base
This is a story about the first time I smoked weed. I was 16 years old at the time and on an island in the Bahamas, Great Abaco Island, and indeed it is. I traveled to this beautiful island with my fellow scouts, most notably Patrick and Justin. Our itinerary for the trip is as follows: Fly down there, stay on a boat for a week, fly back. The boat stayed on the dock the first night and the last night that we were there. The trip less the weed was amazing, but without the weed I might not have this feeling of really getting all I could out of the trip. It's like sledding. You can't not have fun sledding, but if you didn't really get scared, at least for a moment, it wasn't worth it. Just be happy you went home with no broken bones, or in my case be happy you went home with your life.
The first afternoon Justin asks me and Patrick if we want to smoke. Me and Pat both look at each other and agree that it's a good idea, neither of us have done it, and what a better place than the Bahamas? So our mission begins. So Justin takes the lead because he knows what he is doing and starts by asking strangers if they have ganja or trees. Right away we meet with some success, this kid smoking a cigarette just outside our dock pulls out a small amount of weed in a small plastic baggy from his cigarette box. This success was short lived after I jumped into the pool with the baggy. When I was in mid air Justin screamed at me and I had forgotten so I just thought there was a crazy Bahamian snake predator in the pool or something. Nope.
So were off again, we walk along the road that runs parallel to the shore with no prevail. We take the main road away from the shore and we see a gas station. Justin asks the guy attending the pumps "Hey do you know where we can get any trees?"
"Cheese?"
"Yeah"
The man proceeds to point us to the supermarket. We realize that he thinks were talking about cheese. haha
"no no no, TRRREEEES"
"Oh, no" but acts suspiciously sketchy. Cut losses, we head inside. There is a man working stocking the soda machines.
"Hey do you know where we can get any trees?"
"trees?"
"Yeah, like ganja."
"Hold on."
So now the soda guy talks to his pump buddy outside and all of a sudden someone has weed. They tell us to wait at the gas station and one of the men walk across the street, across the field, and into the woods. We make some small talk and about five minutes later, our order is up. We then buy a fine Cuban leaf and Justin rolls a mean blunt. We smoked it across the street from our dock and relished in our success. Neither me or Pat got high.
So mission success, lets go snorkel and soak up some sun all around the Islands. I saw sharks, eels, squid,a plethora of fish, dolphins (not while i was in the water, tear), and of course coral. No big deal.
So we are back on the dock at the end of the week and we decide to be devious and do this again. But this time its different, we didn't get back till after businesses closed. What were we to do? We skipped the road with the gas station on it and kept walking.. sort of in the direction of where the man went but on a road, not through the woods. So were asking people and its starting to get dark out. We ask this guy getting into his car if he knows where we can get any weed and he tells us to follow him. Justin asks if he should get in the car and he refuses and tells us to walk behind his car. There is a street light in the distance that he leads us to and points down this long dark dirt road. We thank him and start walking. We make it about 30 yards down when two men get our attention from the street light.
"Hey where you going?" They ask us. We tell them. They say they will show us the way. How kind. So were following them down this dark long dirt road and we enter an area that is pretty much a trailer park, but instead of trailers it's shacks. We leave the road and go through a hole in a metal fence, cross a small driveway, a few shacks, and a lot of mess and trash when we come to a group of men, some fairly large and the two who walked us in tell them we want some trees. All of these guys are already smoking and are sitting on old furniture and boxes, pretty sweet. So the main Bahamian left the group and entered his shack (i assume its his) and comes back momentarily with a mega blunt. We light it up and pass it back and forth between us offering it to the group who consistently refuse it. This deep in the woods of the Great Abaco Island the accent is a lot thicker and very hard to understand, so this cut down on small talk. We awkwardly smoked the blunt, just the three boy scouts and then went to leave when we had finished. As if this all wasn't sketchy enough when we went to leave, so did the two men that walked us in. Back down the long dark dirt road we go, with the two men at our back, slightly high.
"Don't worry were not going to rob you or anything." They actually said that...
Then it hit me, for the first time. "My god... I should be dead. Jesus Jon... What were you thinking! Why did they go down there with us??? they didn't even smoke!?!? They want my kidney. Okay, just get back to the docks... I can probably run faster than at least Pat, but there's two of them and Justin can run faster than me. Damn this sucks. I can see the street light, its not far off now. Fuck!"
Man was I scared. To the ease of our minds when we finally reached the street light they simply went on their way and we went ours. Were still a long way from our dock so we pick up our pace. Our scoutmasters have no idea where we are and I'm worried they are going to be asking questions. So we get back and no one was the wiser. Sweetness. I slept under the stars that night. Sometimes things are just beautiful, and the sky was that night.
Pretty pimp I know but it gets better.
"How Jon?! You have to tell me!"
Okay, if you insist. So my father does some high end carpentry, mostly cabinets. He, through his contacts, got a job down on an island in the Bahamas. So I got a paid trip to the Bahamas a couple summers ago and didn't realize I was going to the same island till I landed in the airport. So cool. On top of that after she stamped my passport I looked at it, and it was August 6th 2006 and the stamp directly above it was August 4th 2002, 4 years later I show up to the place where I first smoked weed. I ate dinner in a restaurant that I walked by 4 years earlier.
Our Dock.
The Gas station. (the building across the street didn't exist 5 years ago.)
The Dark Ghetto.
Where did you first smoke weed?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Party Fun! v.Permanent Scars
Party Fun. Edition One. Maybe I'll write one for superstars, but this one is dedicated to Permanent Scars!
Before you get sucked in, watch this!
Most of my readers will probably know me and I want to let you know, whatever you think I am thinking right now is correct, that is an example of permanent party scars, but thats not a quarter of what I party scars are all about.
Firstly, there is the literal. Josh's extremities, Helen's eyes and ears (her parents were drunks), Terks lip, my belly. The list goes on, tons of people are hurt every weekend (and Thursdays) by accidents related to drinking! So much so that people have made laws to stop people from hurting themselves exclusivly from drinking. Ridiculous.
This literal meaning isn't why I brought you here. There are far more threatening scars from drinking. These scars are mental. Sometimes they may seem physical, like when a friend of mine this summer couldn't stop pissing whenever he/she got drunk. This is a physical scar to the facilities that she misused. But the after effects, like mean nicknames such as cDubs hurt beyond any cushion can prepare for. Of in another, completely made up, post of mine where I tell a story of me regretting hooking up with some girl in aussy, that could be very permanent. So permanent in fact, that I would ignore her facebook friend request, twice ..if she tried.
I don't mean to make these scars out to be the bad guys, the person who regrets it is the bad guy. Everyone else should just sit back and enjoy these scars and hopfully learn from your own and others.
Monday, October 1, 2007
This is the shit!
a quick prelude to this post. On my most recent trip home to grab more party supplies and old porn collection i came across a folded piece of paper (with writing on it). I wrote this when I was on vacation probably 3 years ago and it was during a time of.. uh.. being uncomfortable.
I have been training my whole life. From the moment I was born my mother was running me through the steps. After the first handful of years I took control of the reigns and have been continuing to do so multiple times per week ever since. After taking the reigns, my family helped with the costs of training, and now, later in the game, I have taken over the costs. Thousands of dollars have been dumped into my training. I was a chiseled champion!
The month leading up to my university education i had almost perfected my skill. After 18 years I bet I was in the top 10% of the country, judging in all the main categories: quickness, clenliness, efficiency, and average overall size. With this efficiency I needed less supplies than my peers/competitors. I had gotten to the point where 4 out of 5 trips to the, once porcelain throne, I didn't even need to wipe! (i did, however, do a courtesy wipe) Then one day, all this training went down the drain (no pun). It started freshman year, I managed to keep it together for about the first month with slow, but steady, decline in performance. About half way through my first semester it really hit me. I couldn't make it 200 yards away from the dining commons before breaking into a full out sprint for the closest rest room. Imagine going from having a cleaner asshole after you shit than most arm pits to pulling the t.p out from your ass with more brown silly puddy on it than seems physically possible to hang on to your ass with gravity trying to get it away, not to mention the cheek spreading and hip convulsion to try to rid myself. I digressed 15 years at least, I'm just thankful I can take care of this mess by myself now.
Alright, I think you have the picture. Now I'll let you know how severe it got with a few anecdotal stories. Some of the worst few times included running from my car to near bathrooms, or when bathrooms were too far away, the side of the road would work for me. But easily the most notorious story would be the time in my dorm. I left the dining commons and headed for me dorm room. About half way there I got the rumbling in my stomach. After standing still for what felt like an hour, I continued to my room. At this point I didn't need to shit and decided to let it congeal a little bit before I drop him off, maybe I wont need to wipe this time! I start playing some video game on my computer. A half hour passes, maybe, when I get that feeling again and I jump up in sprint toward my door. I am paralyzed in my doorway praying I don't shit my pants. I quickly rack my brain.
"I won't make it to the guys room.. I'll just shit in the girls room (about half the distance as the guys room, both not far)"
*rumble*rumble*
"FUCK I'M NOT EVEN GOING TO MAKE IT TO THE GIRLS BATHROOM!" I quickly scan my room for some answer when I find it two feet away "Trash Only." Hallelujah!
I won't go into detail on this specific specimen but it wasn't a clean wipe. What did I do with the trash bin? I put it in the trash room because I felt that was the most appropriate spot for it. I stole back another so I wouldn't get charged for loosing a trash bin and I think I stole back the same one (cleaned by the janitors... god bless those people)