Just The Photographer

July 26, 2006 at 11:13 PM | Art, Good Times | No Comments


This is the picture that I took at the party of Kim’s LiteCubes (that she got from the party that Amanda told us about), in Sam’s pitcher, using Albert’s camera.

Upcoming Shows

April 12, 2006 at 8:46 PM | Concerts, Good Times, Music | 1 Comment

Through a strange twist of fate, I have suddenly found myself going to a number of concerts in the near future. In the very near future (AKA tomorrow), I have the Fallout Boy/Hawthorne Heights/All-American Rejects show. And then next month, another show with The Subways (who I actually saw not too long ago), and Imogen Heap… both shows in Lawrence.

That last Subways was so fucking hot, I can’t wait to see them again… I never got around to writing about that show, but let me tell you, it was a good one. I ended up going to that one with Kyle and this girl in one of his night classes. I have to be honest, it was probably one of the funnest shows that I’ve ever been to. The venue was just the perfect size, the band played a great set, and we were all nice and tore up. Here’s hoping the next one is just as good.

The Imogen Heap show, I really wonder how that’s going to go… I’m thinking it might be kind of a little different format than most shows, being a solo act and all. I’ve never seen any footage of her playing any shows but I did see the video of her performing live on KCRW’s Morning Becomes Eclectic, hosted by Nick Harcourt. She did all of the music by herself on there. Now, I guess this really isn’t too far fetched, considering the number of Joy Electric shows that I have frequented over the years. While I enjoyed every JE show that I’ve gone to, the Ronnie Martin solo act just did not compare to the first time that I saw him perform with live drums. That was the same show that Ryan and I saw Goat Explosion… that was a good one. I’ve seen pictures of Jeff Cloud playing with Ronnie too, on the key-tar, if I’m not mistaken. A solo act is cool, but a couple more people on stage doing their thing is probably even a better time. Anyways, Imogen’s music is amazing. I enjoyed everything that she put out with Frou Frou and her solo albums are just as good if not better than those. I thought that she’d never come around these parts, but then again, I thought that I would never see The Cardigans either.

Please RSVP

March 26, 2006 at 11:39 AM | Good Times, KCMO | No Comments

I haven’t gone bowling in a long time, so I thought it’d be a good idea to do so last night with some other people. But it turns out that Gladstone Bowl is so jumpin’ on a Saturday night at 11:30 that one must actually make reservations in advance. For bowling! Whatever happened to just showing up and checking if they got lanes open? So anyways, we just ended up going to Granfalloons for drinks.

Somebody Gonna Get A-Hurt Real Bad

December 4, 2005 at 11:54 PM | Food, Good Times, KCMO, Site/Personal, Work | No Comments

The MajesticFriday night, I went to a poker party with Albert. This lady on his team was having a get-together at her house and she was making lasagna. I’d been eating pasta for every single meal of the week and I even passed up pho just to finish up the last bit of my pasta… but who could pass up free lasagna and poker? Eh… let me clarify… the poker wasn’t free, it was $20 to play. But yeah, can you believe that shit? I passed up pho!! Believe me, it was not easy.

Now, I enjoy a good game of poker, but $20 is pretty rich. A little too rich for me. I mean we used to play $5 buy-in games back at the house in Manhattan… so one time somebody invited me to go play poker and I was absolutely floored to hear that it was $10. I was like “Oh my godddd, how you gonna play it like that?? Nah, let me know if you do $5 sometime.” And then later that week, I heard that game had somehow turned into a $20 game. I was like “daaammmmn sonn.”

So yeah, I don’t really know why I decided to play this particular time… even though I knew well in advance that it was going to be $20. And especially since I have never ever won any money playing poker in a house game. Ever! I’ve never even made my money back! So that gets old pretty quick and towards the end I stopped playing. I just couldn’t hang with those guys, I guess.

Anyways, Albert and I rolled up in there and somehow I ended up taking third (out of 15), which got me $35. Not too bad. And I got to take home a plate of that lasagna, a loaf of garlic bread, and this box of holiday themed sugar cookies. It was a flat-out raging success if I’d ever seen one.

Saturday started off with a friendly couple of hours of ping pong as they usually do. Chandrak and I hit up an IHOP afterwards. Originally, we decided to go to IHOP because he had these coupons that were supposedly for buy one get one free. But these blasted coupons had so much fine print on them, you wouldn’t even believe. First of all, you can’t use them on the weekends, so that right there shot the whole plan down. Next, you couldn’t use them on the current specials. And it wasn’t buy one get one, it was actually buy one get the other for $1. And you had to buy two drinks. So… yeah. Well, we were already there, so we were like whatever and ate some breakfast. I feel like I’ve been eating IHOP a lot lately. And I dunno if that’s necessarily a good thing.

And then that night, we all went out to Granfalloon’s for Rob’s birthday, as organized by Summer. It was actually his birthday like a whole three weeks ago or so, but due to everybody going out of town and Thanksgiving weekend n shit, this was actually the first weekend that most everyone was in KC and able to go out. It was a grand ol time.

Tonight, a group of us went out to The Majestic to see Russell Peters at the Improv comedy club. I first heard of Russell Peters from this video clip of one of his comedy shows that circulates around work. If you haven’t heard of him, you should check out some of his stuff sometime, it’s hot shit. He’s an Indian from Canada and his material is “racially charged,” I think is what I read in one review. And it’s true. We were sitting right up in the front and Albert ended being the subject of some of his jokes. I’ve never been up in The Majestic before… it seems like a pretty “hip” place to be. I might have to check out some other shows there sometime.

Cold / Harry Potter Marathon / Back to the Philippines

November 17, 2005 at 2:02 AM | Food, Good Times, Movies, Nerd, Site/Personal | 2 Comments

First of all, I would like to comment on the fact that it snowed for the first time on Tuesday. The weatherman said that it would snow and there were many naysayers but I was like “nah, it’s gonna snow.” And it did. We were in a meeting and somebody pointed out that it was snowing, and snowing hard. It wasn’t cold or plentiful enough to stick so nothing really happened. But that’s not to say that it hasn’t been cold recently, because it has been damn cold as of late. I be waking up, freezing n shit. We turned the heater on the other day. I certainly don’t want to be responsible for pipes that be bursting n shit. I’m not even sure what’s up with the weather this year… I think it should have snowed already a couple weeks, maybe months, back. Global warming? Global cooling? El niño? I dunno… I don’t keep up with these sorts of details.

In preparation for the new Harry Potter movie coming out this Friday, me and some people are going to have a Harry Potter marathon tomorrow. It should be every bit as exciting as it sounds. And that’s very exciting.

So today, after work, I stopped by Blockbuster to pick up some Harry Potter DVDs. They only had the first two, but it’s cool… It is my opinion that the first two Harry Potter movies are better than the third one, and plus I’ve got the third one as a rip somewhere.

In the same strip mall as this Blockbuster that I went to was this place called Filippina Café (or something to that effect). I was like “oh shit!” when I saw it because I miss that Filipino food so very badly. Some of that afritada… some of that adobo… all that good shit. I ran up in there even though they didn’t look like they were open. There were some people moving some things around and this lady told me that they weren’t open yet. It turns out that they were opening up shop tomorrow. They let me take a look at their menu and it was all there… all of the familiar menu items that I remember seeing from the Philippines… all except for the mango shake. A couple weeks back, Ryan had called me up and was telling me about this Filipino eating establishment that he had run across in Wichita, and they didn’t have the mango shake either. It leads me to believe that the mango shake was probably more of a “I’m actually in the Philippines and I am on the beach” type drink. Since neither of us are in that particular situation at the moment, I suppose a mango shake might be a little too much to ask for. Besides, they’d probably have to resort to mangos from Mexico and that really doesn’t cut it. I’m definitely going to have to check this place out though, probably this weekend. Or maybe tomorrow for lunch and skip out on pho.

Next to the restuarant was this little shop called Manila Grocery. I went in there to check it out and sure enough, they sold a number of food products from the Philippines, as well as various typical Asian grocery store foods. They had Jufran brand products! They even had some of that crazy banana-based ketchup that I tried in the Philippines. The whole trek about this strip mall brought me back and now I’ve got a reason to wake up in the morning. Almost made me forget about the cold, cold weather.

Pho Hien III

October 5, 2005 at 12:09 AM | Food, Good Times, Site/Personal, Wichita | No Comments

Pho HienWhen I first heard that my favorite eating establishment of all time, the Pho Hien II, was moving, I had mixed feelings about the news. It had been in the same location for so long that I really couldn’t picture myself driving to a different part of town to get my fix. Half of the experience of the place is driving down to that part of Wichita along the stretch of north Broadway that the Vietnamese community have somewhat adopted. It’s not the best part of town by any means, and I have rarely dared to venture out there to eat by myself. Or past 6PM.

But what keeps me coming back time and time again is their amazing pho. Because it’s not the atmosphere. And it’s most certainly not the service. But none of those other things really matter… I know this because I’ve been to some sparkling clean pho joints with excellent service before. But the food sucked. Or their cafe sua da sucked. Or both. And so I think my brother and I came up with a general rule of thumb: the more down to earth a pho joint is, the better the pho. Why is this? Because those places are more real.

But then I got word of where the Pho Hien II was moving to. Yes, they were moving all the way to a new Vietnamese strip mall… across the street. What a relief!

The other weekend, I was down in Wichita for Amanda’s wedding. That was a good one. It also happened to be the weekend of the Chinese Mid Autumn Festival, so I hung out with the family for a bit and ate a fair number of mooncakes.

Of course, every time that I am back in Wichita for any amount of time, you can be sure that I will fit in a lunch at the Pho Hien II, usually with Ryan, sometimes with Martin. This particular weekend, it was just Ryan and I. Going to the Pho Hien II is a treat in itself, but I was especially excited to be able to check out what all had changed at their new location.

Once we got there, I could already tell that some things were never going to be the same. First of all, the place was not called “Pho Hien III”, but just “Pho Hien.” I didn’t know why the other one had the “II” to begin with, but it seemed kind of illogical to discontinue the numbering scheme. Also, gone are the craters in the parking lot and the guerrilla-style parking that patrons frequently encountered back across the street. Still, signs of the old familiar were present inside… the twin pair of plastic bottles of hoisin sauce and Sriracha, the fish sauce in the re-used Kikkoman’s soy sauce bottle, all of the same people working, Vietnamese pop music in the background, the life-sized plastic eagle statue near the cash register… I never did figure out what was up with that eagle.

The new: fancier menus in place of the 1-sheet laminated paper menus, new (higher) prices, some kind of faux bamboo plant decoration sitting next to the condiments, two TVs mounted up high on either end of the place, and perhaps most shocking of all… a small disco ball hanging from the center of the restaurant. I was like “what… the…” because I mean, my god it’s a disco ball! Ryan suggested that the place gave off a vibe that it could be easily cleared out and rented out for other functions, like I dunno, parties n shit. And no party is complete without a disco ball. It seemed like the most plausible explanation and the tables and chairs certainly looked mobile enough for easy clearing out.

I ordered the #1 with extra noodles. I don’t know why… the #1 is pretty large as it is, but it seems to be the thing to do at the Vietnam Cafe up in KC. Call it habit. Or maybe I did it because I was just so excited to see the new Pho Hien that I had to celebrate by gorging myself with so much pho that I probably should have died that very day, right then and there. Yes, I never thought that I would say this… but I was maxed out on Pho. I’d never had so much of it before! So I refrained from pho for about a week and a half before getting some at the Vietnam Cafe.

But this is not to say that it wasn’t delicious. The joint has received a facelift, but it’s essentially the same ol’ place that it used to be. Good eating. Good times. Check it out if you’re in the area.

Summer Celebration

August 28, 2005 at 4:30 PM | Good Times, Site/Personal, Work | No Comments

Yesterday, a big group of us went to the company sponsored event “Summer Celebration” held at the Kansas Speedway, where there was free food, cotton candy, snowcones, carnival-style games, live music, a badass fireworks show, and what appeared to be an unlimited amount of free Bud Light and Budweiser. It was fantastic.

I have never been to the Speedway before, because honestly, I don’t care much for the sport. The place seems like a pretty cool place to throw big company events just like this, though. But for whatever reason, they decided to have all the normal entrances into the complex blocked off, save for one in the very, very back, so you had to actually drive around the thing to get in. Twice. It was like a fucking labrynth n shit. And then, on top of this, I found the security to be extremely lax. I mean, sure there was security staff there, but anybody could’ve gotten in, had they known about the event.

After all was said and done, I’d drank myself a fair amount of beer and even won some beanbag-style stuffed animals and some useless carnival prizes.

Afterwards, we headed out to Westport and checked out this Irish bar “Blayney’s” which is located down a street in Westport that apparently none of us had ever gone down. And what a strange little area it was! There was a pizza place, a Japanese steakhouse, and even this place where groups of people were seated around and smoking multi-tube hookahs. I’d no idea what was going on at that place.

At Blayney’s, they had automatic paper towel dispensers in the restrooms. I’d never seen one of those before. And here I thought I had seen it all, too. I mean, I’ve seen automatic flushing, automatic sinks, automatic soap dispensers, automatic hand dryers… but never an automatic paper towel dispenser. I didn’t even need to use the restroom, but I went in there to try it out. I waved my hand in front of the unit and sure enough, a red LED came on and about a foot of paper towel came rolling out. Now I can rest easy knowing that pretty much every aspect of public restroom use has been automated. Except doors… I suppose they could automate the doors, too. But I don’t expect to see that for at least a couple more years.

Outside, Westport was happening block-party style just like every other weekend. It appeared there was some large group of girls out at Westport for a bachelorette party. Other than that, it was all pretty standard stuff. Well… I dunno, it also seemed to me like the DJ was playing an excessive amount of 80s music.

The Life Aquatic

August 12, 2005 at 11:32 PM | Good Times, KCMO, Nostalgia, Site/Personal, Work | No Comments

It’s almost as if there’s no limit to how many posts that I can write about skin peeling! Today’s theme: skin peeling from sunburns.

I went to a Royals/White Sox game a couple weeks ago with my new hire group. It was a pretty good time, we got there a little early to start up a grill, drink some beer, and have ourselves a little tailgating session going. It was all sunny n shit that day and the heat was out of control. I could already tell early on that it was going to be an effort to sit through this game. And what a game it was! The score was all tied up and tension was high in the atmosphere… until about the 12th inning, with the same ol’ fucking score. Half of our group left an inning or two before then, but us hardcore motherfuckers decided to sit and watch the game through, because we’ve already stayed this long, we might as well see what happens. Well, we didn’t make it to the end. We decided to leave at that point because who knows how long that thing could’ve lasted. We could’ve been sitting out there all afternoon! I mean, at that point, I really couldn’t care less who would win the game, I just wished somebody would just finish it up and call it good, so I could get the fuck on up out of there. I checked the game later on that day online and I guess the Royals won. Oh well, I’m pretty indifferent towards baseball.

I normally never sunburn. But this game was especially long. And we did stay out there for a good couple of hours. The only other time that I have ever burned in my life is one summer when my brother and I were taking sailing lessons out at some lake. Also did some kayaking, some canoeing… it was all good. That was a crazy summer, a long time ago. Yes, it’s a little known fact, but I used to be quite the sailor! I knew all about the different nautical terminology, all the cool sailing knots, etc.

I don’t remember shit about sailing. I couldn’t tell you which way was which and I can barely tie my own shoe now. I’d probably be the one to get scurvy out on the open sea if it really came to it. It’s sad, really.

Interestingly enough, I can remember all kinds of useless information from that summer. I remember the stench of the lake; I remember the vanilla/banana smelling sunscreen in the summer mornings. I remember that was the summer when Semisonic first came out with the song “Closing Time” because that song was all the rage, even before every bar across the US decided that it would be clever to play that song when they kick everybody out. Seven years later, they’re still doing it. I mean come on, that shit’s so old hat, it’s not even funny anymore. Oh, you’re so clever.

The reflection from the water and magnification of the sun through the water on my body really did a number on me. That summer, I got the most hardcore tanning/burning that I have ever experienced in my life, and hope to God to never experience again. One artifact of my exposure to the sun, was seen in my very distinct “sandal tan” that was like the difference between night and day. That thing lasted well into and even past the following winter. I mean, it was snowing n shit, 20 below, and there I was, with that blasted sandal tan underneath all of my winter gear. It was ridiculous.

I never knew the sun could be so cruel. Showers were especially painful. This was the sort of thing that’ll make you take an ice cold shower. And even then, you’re in one corner of the shower, clutching at your arms to dampen the impact of the water. This was the sort of thing that made it painful to put socks or shoes on. And the peeling! My god, the peeling! I don’t even want to get into it. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

But I was really surprised that I got burnt at that Royals game. Nowhere as bad as that summer, but burnt nonetheless. I spent a week in the Philippines. I’m talking about some motherfucking tropical islands! And all that got me was a lovely dark tan that got me mistaken for a local more times than I would care to recount. What happened? I spend an afternoon at a baseball game and suddenly I find myself wincing in pain two days later in the shower, skin starts to peel a few weeks later. At least I didn’t get the sandal tan this time around.

That Weekend

July 22, 2005 at 7:22 AM | Food, Good Times, KSU, Site/Personal | 1 Comment

Well, here is that post about a weekend already long gone (May 5-7). I really should have gotten this one out much sooner, but I’ve just been distracted with things like finals, graduation, going to concerts, drinking myself silly, moving, and most importantly not having a reliable internet connection to work with. I may have already told a lot of you these stories, but dammit you’re just gonna have to hear them again.

So anyways… I’d like to start off with Thursday night, which is really when this series of tales begins. It was Cinco de Mayo so the bars were pretty packed, people going nuts everywhere. It was an alright time… the whole time I was wondering why we celebrate Cinco de Mayo here. It’s almost as big of a sham as St. Patrick’s Day, another worthless holiday in my opinion. Just thinking about it pisses me off. I can’t really go into the exact details of the night, but I can tell you that I lied about my name to these people that we were hanging out with. I had so many aliases that night: Corey, Adam, Jonathan… I really can’t picture myself as any of those names, but then again if you know me, why would you? Afterwards, I drove out to Wal-mart and bought some of those delicious 99 cent spicy beef and bean chimichangas. I think I also bought something else too, but I was too drunk to remember. Anyways, I was back home, eating this chimichanga downstairs on the poker table, when Jeff comes home and tells me that he was planning on throwing a party this weekend. I was like “alright” and continued eating. There wasn’t a whole lot of notice. I’m not sure if Pat’s or Lawson’s absence could have been circumvented, had I known about Jeff’s intentions earlier in the week.

I had a 541 presentation to give at 10:30 Friday morning. It was a miracle that I made it to that thing. It was pretty easy as usual, and at long last, we were finally done with that damn project. Just the 541 final exam and I’ll be officially done with school. Well… I guess, there is that GEOL125 “final” too, but I calculated that I could miss about 16 problems out of 48 and still keep an A. So yeah, I’m not too worried about. I spent the better part of the day before that final re-playing Resident Evil 4, because I want that infinite ammo rocket launcher! That and eating. I bought a chicken and made some stuffing, ate some potato salad. Had a grapefruit… I might have busted out a can of corn, too, I don’t remember. As a side note, I am really starting to like canned corn. Like… it is starting to surpass canned green beans… something that I thought would never, ever happen.

OK, let me get back to the weekend.

So Friday night rolls around. Um… it was another night faded away into the drunken haze. But this time, we hung out with this girl that Aldie knows, named Jessie. She’s pretty cool, so I didn’t lie to her. Also, for some reason, I felt like I had already met her once before. But you know sometimes when you meet certain people in certain situations, you never really expect to see them ever again. Going into a meeting with this kind of mindset does not permit one to easily retain these people into long term memory. But this time, I had a feeling that I would remember this girl, at least for the night. We went around to 3 bars, and I had been in loose contact w/Sut-loc the entire time, but finding a central location to meet in Aggieville was something that was not accomplished that night, unfortunately.

It was around this time that I came up with this grand plan to spend the days all the way up to the Geology final in one long continuous drunken haze. It would be brilliant.

So finally Saturday comes around. I had every intention of pitching in some money to help Jeff get the (3) kegs, but I simply had no cash on me. None. So I’m sitting around, just kind of hanging out. The time went by so quickly… I was working on putting together a mix CD, when 9 o’clock snuck up on me. Where did the time go??

I threw on some clothes and as I went to put on my belt, the thing breaks. The buckle snaps clean off. I was pretty fucking shocked. And saddened. Because now I was going to have to resort to my old belt, which I was never really too fond of. Oh well, it gets the job done. I thought it ironic that just a few days ago, I had posted about my belt. Maybe it wasn’t even ironic… maybe it was just peculiar. I’m not really sure if I have a firm grasp of the concept of irony or not.

I went out to Wendy’s to get some food. I’ve been digging the spicy chicken sandwich and small chili lately. And everytime, they ask me if I want to make it a combo. No, I don’t want it as a combo. There’s a reason why I didn’t get the combo. OK, so yeah I bring this food back and try to eat it in the red light from the Christmas lights. It was difficult, I’ll tell you that right now. But, I got ‘er done. How could you not, when the food is so good?

I even called up my cousin at KU to come over. It was a good deal because I’d never drank him before. Not really. I mean, there was this one time where we were drinking and he was passed out on the floor and I was sitting there watching TV, only mildly involved in drinking games with his college freshman friends. They play their drinking games with an entirely different set of rules! Although I must admit, it was rather amusing to witness/re-live the days of underage drinking once again. Things were so much more exciting back then. There was a certain thrill to it all. Those were the good ‘ol days. But don’t get me wrong–thank God I’m 21 now.

Speaking of underage drinking, here’s a little episode that happened at the party: it’s not even that late into the night yet and the place is starting to fill up with people. A lot of people were hanging around outside so I would occasionally go outside to see what was going on, mingle with the people. So one of the times that I stepped outside, I looked around and saw Barry talking to Sam (not my roommate) outside. Sam has this big ass jug of red wine with him; you couldn’t miss it. I headed out there to see what was crackalacking. They seen my shirt, and naturally the conversation shifts to Radiohead. Radiohead and then Pink Floyd for a while, and then back to Radiohead. I don’t know the first thing about Pink Floyd (I know like 2 of their songs) so I was glad to be done with Pink Floyd and I kept interjecting little comments in hopes of swaying the conversation away from Pink Floyd. And then… all of a sudden, a bright light flashes on Sam’s face, originating from somewhere behind Barry and I. A female police officer emerged from the direct flashlight beam.

She grabs a hold of Barry’s drink and takes my beer. “How old is everybody here?”

“22,” said Barry.


We all kind of looked at Sam, expecting his answer, but he didn’t say anything… he just brought his cigarette up to his lips and took a drag. Nobody had to spell it out, we all knew what was about to happen.

The cop spelled it out anyway: “Uh oh… somebody not 21?” The flashlight remained on Sam’s face.

“I’m 18,” he confessed.

I was shocked. Even if I had known that he was underage, I would have thought that he was at least 20. But 18? Ah yes… those were the good ‘ol days.

The cop saw the enormous jug of red wine and laughed. “What is that?” she asks while leaning in to confiscate the alcohol. At this point, I am feeling pretty comfortable because I know that the heat was going to be on Sam and not myself. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but you know cops, they can bust you for distribution to minors or having an open container, even when you are on private property. The fuckers.

This police officer, the one who took Sam away for what I assumed was going to be either an MIC or an MIP… well, she was pretty hot. I didn’t want to say anything though. There was enough heat on the situation already, I didn’t want to fuel the situation any further. Also, I might not have said anything even if she wasn’t busting up the party and taking away people that I know–the only line I got is “heeey.” No game whatsoever.

Everybody on the front lawn had moved inside of the house when word got out that the police were there. And then, naturally, the flow of people went towards the back yard.

I couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for what had just happened, even though I really didn’t cause it. I went out back to check things out. There were these guys climbing the deck and fence to try to move a large amount of random tree branches to burn. I saw this go down but I didn’t even want to know where they got those branches. Barry was on the deck yelling n shit over the rail. The light was right behind him so you couldn’t really see who he was. But if you knew Barry or if you’ve even just heard Barry, you would have instantly known who was up there. Our deck isn’t really the safest thing to be on, especially for a person of Barry’s size. So I went up there to convince him to come down, like one of those cops talking a jumper out of commiting suicide. I was unsuccessful. Had Barry really been a jumper, he would’ve died and the blood would have been on my hands.

While I was on the roof, I saw some kids sitting on the roof; one of them was pissing off of one of the edges onto the neighbor’s alley. I didn’t want to see that kind of shit going on. I yelled at those kids and made them come down and then promptly instructed them to “get the fuck off my goddamn deck.”

Off in the distance, I saw Sam coming back up to the house, slouching. Getting an MIC is a huge downer, I’m sure, but he tried to play it off like he didn’t really care. I could tell that he was upset. Staying at the party probably wasn’t going to help.

The party progressed until late into the night. When things started to wind down, I went upstairs to see why my light was on. Aldie was sitting on the couch, with my bag of Doritos in hand. There were chips all over the floor. I swear to God I was finding chips in weird places all the way up until the day that I moved out of that house. Also, he had busted open this large package of individually wrapped instant black sesame drink mixes and I found those packets everywhere too. I really have no idea how the hell he did all this or why in God’s name would he do something like this.

But yeah, Sam’s run-in with the police, the people treating our house like a goddamned hotel, and now this… everything had been pretty upsetting the entire night. I snapped and blew up on Aldie, yelling n shit, getting violent. I was angry to the point that I was seriously ready to kill the motherfucker for what he’d done, despite our friendship. It was actually the combination of my anger, being really drunk, and the upsetting events of the night, that I screamed out some shit that I didn’t really mean… things like “I’LL KILLLL YOOOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKERR!!!” I can’t think of the last time that I had ever been so pissed off by something or someone.

Sabrina had been in Sam’s (my roommate Sam) room, because he needed help finding his way back to his bed to pass out. She came out and asked me to calm down and asked me what was the problem.

“THIS MOTHERFUCKER RIGHT HERE FUCKING ATE ALL OF MY GODDAMN DORITOS!!!” Yes, I know. On paper, the whole incident sounds pretty fucking silly. I can’t even tell someone about this part of the story without providing enough background details to justify my behavior that night. And even then, it still sounds like I’m crazy because there’s no way that I could provide a sufficient amount of background to make the incident not totally taken out of context. But I can try:

You see, this isn’t the first time that he’s done this kind of thing. On no less than 2 separate occasions prior to this one, Aldie had invaded my room, ate all of my Doritos and gotten away with a clean break. But this time, he’d crossed the line. The next day, like I said, I was finding chips all over the floor. I guess he had even tracked in a bunch of dirt and all these weird sphere looking seeds/spores that were all over the floor as well. And! And he had drank some of the pickle juice from my jar of pickles in the mini fridge. I know this because the lid was open and I know Aldie loves taking swigs of pickle juice, vinegar, and the likes. It was one thing to trash the house, I don’t give a fuck about the house, but to come up into my room and fuck with my shit, that was uncalled for.

Aldie left and I remained bitter for the remainder of the night, muttering under my breath and cursing about Doritos. Just writing this post brings back those same feelings and is one of the reasons why this particular post has taken me so long to finish. That and the fact that it’s long as fuck, too.

Anyways, I guess later on, I was wandering around yet again and on one of my rounds, I came across Jeff, who reported that we had just received a ticket for noise violation. I was like “WHAT!?” because the whole thing was ridiculous… at that point in the night, we probably had about 20 people left at the party. How could we have possibly received a noise complaint? And even if someone actually called in a noise complaint, shouldn’t we get a warning first? What gives?

It turns out someone did call the cops on us. And so I guess they had “no choice” but to give us a ticket? And the bitch was like $90! Whatever. I guess we would just split up the cost of the ticket amongst us 4.

Now, 90 doesn’t really divide by 4 too evenly, in case you didn’t notice. But it was something that had to be done and I was willing to live with it.

A solution arose the following Monday night. I was getting ready to head out to get some Gumby’s with Tony and Christy, when someone started knocking at the door. I went to answer it and there was this girl with glasses standing outside. She was our neighbor. She explained to us that on the night of the party, some guys came by her place and asked if they could borrow her pool (one of those plastic kiddy pools that you set out in your yard, fill up with your garden hose). She said “no,” so they left. But apparently, later on they must’ve come and taken it away regardless of what she had to say about it, because it was gone now. I was highly amused by this story but I failed to see how I was related to the whole ordeal. I was like “I don’t think we have your pool… I guess I can check and if it’s out back I’ll get it back to you…” I went and checked but did not find a pool in the backyard, which I was sure would be where a bunch of drunkards would leave a kiddy pool. I asked Tony if he knew anything about the pool. He did not. I apologized to the girl and told her that no, we didn’t have her pool and good luck on finding it. This wasn’t good enough for her. She held us personally responsible for what happened.

So yeah, you remember how I mentioned Barry was on the deck? Well, I guess he came down later on his own accord. I guess nobody fell off the deck or roof. But I mean, if someone would have fallen off, would we have been responsible for that shit? Fuck no! Or at least, I sure hope not. But the pool? I KNOW that we weren’t responsible for that shit, no way.

Her ultimatum went like this: “Either put a check for $10 in our mailbox by next week or we’ll call the police.”

I was like “Uh… OK, I guess I’ll discuss it with my roommates. Seeya.”

We talked it over and I guess we just decided to cut her a $10 check, even though none of us thought we should have. I would have been way more against this course of action, but it made an even $100. Well, it turns out, Jeff never wrote her the check so I guess that girl never called the cops. It also means that Jeff has some of our money, too. That punk.

Oh yeah. Sunday night, I got the full story on the noise violation incident. Apparently, the complaint was about someone yelling upstairs. I’m pretty sure that narrows it down to me. But who knows for sure?


June 30, 2005 at 10:14 PM | Good Times, KCMO, Site/Personal, Work | No Comments

Last Tuesday, a big group of kids from my Compass group met up at this bar in Westport called Harpo’s to hang out. They have a special on Tuesdays where you can get 25 cent draws… of Natty Light, quite possibly one of the most terrible beers of all time. On the cheap end of the beer spectrum, you’ve got beers like Keystone, Old Style, and of course Natty. Now, I won’t dog on Natty too much… me and Natty have a sort of a history, but I won’t get into that. The point is, they were selling cheap beer for a price so low that it was still a good deal. Good deals taken in mass quantity equals great times. That’s a little introduction to the discipline known as Beer Mathematics.

One of the most interesting points in the night was right when we arrived at the bar and of course, I routinely pulled out my driver’s license to show them that yes, I was indeed 21+ years old. Now, if you’ve ever seen my driver’s license, you will know that I really don’t look like I did back when the photo was taken. In that photo, I was wearing glasses and I had just shaved my head. And it was like 3 years ago. Just from past experience, I know that people will often feel the need to give me the “double take” where they look back and forth between my ID and me at least twice, and then hesitantly return it back to me, not really sure if I was who I claimed to be. It’s happened at bars with my license; it’s happened at airports with my passport (for which was I was coincidentally photographed for around the same time as my driver’s license). I don’t blame these people, I can see where they’re coming from…

But I had something happen to me that night that took the whole thing to the next level. I hand the guy at the door my license and he did not believe that was me in that picture. So he pulled me aside, and let everyone else that was with get their ID’s checked, cover paid, and wristband distributed. The guy hands my license to this big bald guy standing a couple feet back in the corner. He says something to the bald guy, who proceeds to analyze my license under some kind of magnifying glass/flashlight combination tool. The big bald guy didn’t think I was the guy in the picture either.

At this point, I was just afraid that they would confiscate my driver’s license or cut it up or whatever they do to the licenses of kids who try to sneak into bars under the guise of a friend or relative.

“No that’s me, I’ve got other forms of ID on me…”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He clamps my license on a clipboard and hands me a notepad and pen and instructs me to sign my name “exactly as it appears” on my driver’s license. The page that I was going to be signing on had two other signatures on it. It seemed like a pretty common procedure around Harpo’s. I was like “OK.” I was confident that I knew how to sign my own name, but I’ve noticed that signatures evolve over time. Mine has, anyways. I don’t know about yours.

So I signed it like I do and the bald guy compares it to the signature on my driver’s license using the forementioned magnifying glass and after giving my signature the double take, he finally says, “well, I guess it looks similar enough.”

I was like “OK, thanks… I guess,” all sarcastic as I return my license to my wallet. They were treating me as if they had just let some 18 year old slip through the cracks of their security, trying to get by with a borrowed/stolen ID. I rolled my eye and got my wristband, a little irked that I had to jump through all these obstacles to drink some Natty, when I never once had to prove myself at bars, never once had to prove myself to the people working at various airports in numerous countries. Just who the fuck do these people at Harpo’s think they are?

So anyways, there were a bunch of us out back, occupying like 3 tables pushed together. It wasn’t just my Compass group there obviously because Sam and Chris also came. Micheala brought her friend from that other night. Amanda’s friend Natalie showed up at some point. Summer brought some of her friends and I am pretty sure there were people there that night that I didn’t even get a chance to meet. Great times.

That was the same night that Sam and I ran into Jenny back at the apartment and the L Word was dropped. But that’s another story.

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