21 Questions - 50 Cent (45)

21 Questions

I haven't posted in a while and let me tell you why. Pharmacy school is dumb. Let me tell you why. Professors don't teach you.

Before we begin, however, I must expose to you my inherent bias regarding the situation. I think pharmacy students are the smartest motherfuckers around. Especially those attending an accelerated program like yours truly. "You're so arrogant..blah blah blah".... "Why didn't you go to med school then if you're so brilliant?" Well here's the answer to that ignorant question: you only have to go to graduate school for 2 years and 9 months and come out making six fig's easy, you don't have to touch filthy motherfuckers all day long, and down the road if you want to work three 12 hour days you can do just that. You will never be on call and you will never cup another man's balls while he forces a fake cough. You can have a family. You have less student loans. I have an extended list yet that's not what this blog is about... just for shits though, the next time you hear person refer to a pharmacist as "someone that couldn't get in to med school" do me a favor and cup their balls with your hand and squeeze violently. Being a doctor sucks. Check you latest suicide rate polls if you don't believe me.

The point of this blog is to truly unveil how to teach somebody something because my school SUCKS at it.

It is the policy of the Massachusetts College of Pharmacy and Health Sciences and it's accrediting body to create "life-long learners" by enforcing student-interactive learning in their second professional year. Let me translate that: they want to teach pharmacists how to learn by making them teach themselfs (pimpin' word alert) the most critical information in their professional field. Well thats just ridiculous.

So this is the deal: you are supposed to read jospeh T. diprio's pharmacotherapy textbook prior to coming to class and then partake in a one hour and twenty minute "student-lead" discussion on that day's topic.

First and foremost you are clinically insane if you think 250 students are going to read chapters prior to coming to class. That's just a fact. Well let's assume said students decide to play along. This textbook is 3 inches thick. For those of you not good with numbers, the book sitting flat goes up to the "B" on a can of Bud Light. The book is 2,559 pages long. Almost as many pages as Manny Ramirez has career hits. Not to mention the font is like size 8. The size of Manny Ramirez's IQ. And then there's your little nuisances like spelling errors...."therapeutic aGNEts"...oh you mean agents? Excellent, I'm filling blank slides for my class tomorrow using a source written by people who can't spell agent. Student X, what do you think you should use to treat disease Y? I would use an anxiety aGNEt i believe.

Being resilient and brilliant pharmacy students we find ways to solve this problem. We use last year's students drug packets of course. But this is by no means a long-term solution. Half of their shit is outdated or wrong so we are just delaying having to learn the information so we don't look like an idiot in class when our "professor" calls on us.

Regardless. Let's assume that MCPHS believes students read before hand and fill out their packet. WHATS THE FUCKING POINT OF GOING TO CLASS? There are no "lecture slides" per se. Sure, the professor has slides that we may or may not have access to (because they don't know the information either?) but it's a futile and frustrating process to attempt to copy them down. Unless you're a skilled secretary and can transcribe like a thousand words a minute you're shit out of luck. Here's all the important information but let's skip over this and get to your packets. Is Alalidifkc Moustafcei here? What did you find were the reasons old men can't get boners?

Let's again assume Alalidifkc is on top of his game (or has his friend's notes). What if there is a question? "I have a question....". Well now you're fucked. Why's that? First off you've unwittingly volunteered yourself to answer the following question in your packet. Secondly the professors "answer" your question in the following manner. Professor: well, what do you think would be the answer. Student: ummmm, yes? Student thinking: fuck. i don't know, why the fuck do you think i asked the question? Professor: can anybody else help Retarded Johnny here answer his question? Silence. Professor: well you guys can look that up. Johnny, what did you have for the next question? Johnny: yes?

What are we learning about you ask? It's obviously a very organized system that deals with one bodily dysfunction and moves to the next body dysfunction, right? No? So you do one class of drugs, and then move to a different class? No? Oh, they don't organize anything at all?Bingo. Everyday there is a new "professor" that leads our discussion on a completely random fucking disease that they specialize in. For example, our last exam covered erectile dysfunction (penis), glaucoma (eye), acne (face), lice (poor kids), benign prostatic hyperplasia (taint). In that order. You're trying to make sense of things that aren't connected or organized at all, complicating the process even more than necessary.

Well that seems like a brilliant way to teach now doesn't it. It's like an episode of Lost, you leave with 21 questions and no goddamn answers. So now the exam rolls around and you spend HOURS fruitlessly trying to teach yourself everything there is to know about everything you've covered and not laugh at the pictures of flaccid penises.

How are the tests? Ha...it's like an episode of Lost, you have 21 questions and no goddamn answers.

This is what pisses me off the most. The teachers are fucking geniuses. Why? Well, each teacher has 8 questions per lecture and they somehow manage to write 8 questions that have like 3 answers that could be right! Do you know how hard it is to write a question that has 3 "right" answers!? You have to be an evil mastermind to do this. And I am not being sarcastic at all.

The most accurate way I've come to describe the test questions is like this: they are like the stupid IQ trick questions on some blackberry app that my girlfriend's sister showed me. You have to answer the question right to move on or you start over but the questions are misleading. It says click the smallest number. Then there are really small font 88's and really big font 12's. Well do you want the smallest numerical value or the smallest number in actual size. Brilliant. There are two right answers depending on your interpretation!

So the same ass clown's that don't answer my questions in class are mastermind exam question makers. It infuriates me. I'm paying you. Teach me your evil ways! I know that you understand this stuff, how about you help me too you son of a bitch!

So, how do you effectively teach someone something? You start by answering their goddamn questions. But more importantly, you SIMPLIFY it. the best way to learn anything is to simplify it! use some corny metaphor or pneumonic device that helps me remember shit. You don't have to spoon feed us either. we are smart. you can challenge us intellectually without holding our hands, fucking do it. Its really not that hard to subliminally teach concepts to people. In fact, I just did it to YOU (my loyal blog readers) using baseball, beer, and Lost as helpful metaphors and you didn't even realize it. Here is your multiple choice question:

Which of the following is the MOST CORRECT reason is sucks to be a doctor:

A) joseph T. dipiro's book sucks but makes a great coaster

B) the "suicide squeeze"

C) manny ramirez hits a lot and has a low IQ

D) producer's of Lost have ADHD and require therapuetic aGNEts

The answer is B. All of the answers are correct statements but if you paid attention in class you would know that it sucks to be a doctor because of the "suicide squeeze". It's not obvious to understand necessarily...i didn't have it on my slides, i didn't just tell you, and it takes some processing of information (and a sense of humor) to understand.

Repeat Offender: Patiently Waiting (77), Hate It Or Love It (65)

BRYTunes Genius Recommendation: Answers - Submersed (32)

Quote- Evans Blue (88)

Quote- Evans Blue

So every Thursday over the last month and change I’ve been getting together with the same handsome, 6 foot 4 inch, former college teammate at his place in the “hippy capital of the world” Portland, Maine. The evenings usually go down like this: unusually flirtatious text messages about being excited for tonight’s events, purchasing of 38 Pabst Blue Ribbons, pizza/chili/burgers, few episodes of Arrested Development, Brand New/Red Hot Chili Peppers, few games of Madden online, a shot of Maker’s Mark, shotgun a beer, and once we’re nice and sloppy we place money on NFL games. Besides succumbing to our vices, destroying our livers, raising our cholesterol, and tainting our heterosexual reputation I have also come to learn a lot about perspective and just how important it is in our world.

An influential leader once said: “The aim for which we were fighting the war was the loftiest, the most overpowering that man can conceive: it was the freedom and independence of our nation”

The foundation of every successful team, army, or even argument is a basic trust in the underlying goals of which the whole is fighting for. You’re only as strong as the belief you have in the bare principles of what you stand for. Albeit we are not conquering nations, said gambling partner and myself present different arguments for different teams in what we think is the best interest of increasing our profit. Yet even at our drunkest we blindly trust one another to stick to the game plan and analyze every angle and different perspective in each matchup.

Example: Two weeks ago we bet on the Colts at home versus the Chiefs. The Colts were favored to win by 7 points. In other words, the Colts had to beat the only remaining undefeated team in the NFL by more than 7 points or we lost.

Chiefs perspective: the Chiefs are the only undefeated team in the NFL. They have 2 running backs with over 200 yards rushing (Jones, Charles) and are playing one of the weaker run defenses in the league (something like 28^th in the league last year). The Chiefs have 2/3 of the coaching staff of the greatest dynasty in the last 15 years (Crennel, Weiss) and a litter of former Patriot greats (Vrabel, Cassell…). Also, they are coming off their bye week so they’ve had 2 weeks to rest up and prepare for Peyton Manning and his aerial attack. Dallas Clark is white. Not to mention they can lose by a full touchdown and still cover the spread.

Colts perspective: the Colts are coming off a bad loss to Jacksonville. They are 2-2 and are badly in need of a win to keep pace in their division. Peyton Manning is insanely good. The Chiefs are undefeated but they have beaten San Deigo (who always sucks in September), the Browns (I could play quarterback for them at this point), and the 49ers (don’t get me started). The Colts are at home.

A fair argument either way, one may contend. So how did we end up choosing the Colts? Well we could feel it in our plums that the Colts were going to win. The Chiefs aren’t for real. The Colts are a playoff team. The Colts are going to stomp on the Chiefs just like they did the Giants Week 1 (which we also picked). Maybe it was the booze, maybe we thought our analysis was justified, but either way we shared a common instinctive agreement with complete faith in one another’s perspective of the situation.

Flash back to the present. The Colts covered the spread (barely) and we won us some cash money. Our (drunken) perspective was right. Our perspective has yet to not be right (slant brag). Our earnings are 600% in 6 weeks.

So how do we keep doing it? What is our secret? What is our motto? We just follow in the teachingss of great American president and the man responsible for the emancipation of slavery, Abraham Lincoln: “I will say in addition to this that there is a physical difference between the white and black race.” It’s that simple. Pick the team with a white quarterback and offensive linemen with black receivers and tattooed linebackers.

Just to keep things in perspective, we are not racist. And neither was Abraham Lincoln…I think. But rather the point is that under different contextual circumstances people may perceive things (quotes, teams ability to cover the spread) completely differently.

“The aim for which we were fighting the war was the loftiest, the most overpowering that man can conceive: it was the freedom and independence of our nation”

~Adolf Hitler. Mein Kampf. Volume 1. Chapter VI.

Changes your perspective a little, doesn’t it (except for Neal Russell I’m sure).

BRYTunes Genius Recommendation/Repeat Offender: Evans Blue is a fucking sick band. 2 great albums: The Melody and The Energetic Nature of Sound, The Pursuit Begins When This Portrayal of Life Ends. Fully endorsed and worth the purchase.

Skinny Love - Bon Iver (100)

I urge you to actually click and listen: Skinny Love

This blog goes out to all the 7th grade English teachers who tirelessly assign and correct interpretation of poetry.

First and foremost, "grading" people on opinion may be the most futile and ignorant activity one could ever undertake. Over and above taking joy in subjectively (and most likely bias-ly) categorizing peers into stereotypical groups that will shape the future of thousands of naive middle school children, middle school English teachers spend their life analyzing and presenting great works in history that are far above their own intelligence level to a crowd of degenerates that literally wished you would drop dead. Satisfying career choice...I digress.

So why then is every single kid subject to years of tortuous and painstakingly awful interpretation of literature? I'll tell you why. Because every once in a while a person more brilliant than us all is able to capture an indescribable feeling so genuinely...so flawlessly.. and with such awesome precision that it will blow your fucking mind.

I know I'm different than most (understatement alert)...but I enjoyed dissecting poetry (shout out to Ms. Khorll, Mrs. Shulman). Poetry is like a little word game. A clue-laden, double-entendre-filled, surprise-packed, metaphor-sprinkled word game. You put the time in, you are rewarded with the full picture. And believe me, some of the poems you were forced to read as an adolescent are some of the most brilliant, chilling, and sometimes disturbing word games you could ever imagine. Edgar Alan Poe was one crazy motherfucker. My Last Duchess by Robert Browning is a brutally honest piece of work that (if anyone took the time to understand it) would allow the probing into the mind of the most suicidal, woefully love-stricken, lost soul in any generation. I can't express how impressive it is to create a piece of work that can transcend generations and generations of time when people themselves change so drastically in matters of years (think michael jackson or jared from subway).

Admittedly, I don't drive to Borders, buy poetry books and analyze them while wearing clogs and sipping on a latte. In fact I probably haven't read a poem since we were forced to do so in high school. Yet I can appreciate what our English teachers (poor souls) were getting at: read between the lines, take the piece as a whole, understand. All that...and most importantly: spell correctly. A little off track yet entirely important in and of itself. You look like a fool when you spell words wrong regardless of your intelligence level. Whoever invented spell check deserves something worthwhile.

So where the hell am I going with all this (a recurring question people that frequent this blog always seem to be asking themselves)? Every once in a while you come across a song that owns you. The type of song you say "thats so fucking true" or "Yes, that's what I was trying to say but I have absolutely no musical talent or any inkling of inclination to do anything other than watch tv". A song that captures an emotion or event in your life that you struggle to explain so just keep to yourself.

So this Bon Iver song is one of "those" songs for me. The song has no significance in my life currently but it beautifully depicts the ending of a relationship that has been slowly withering away for a while. If you've ever had a drawn out ending to a relationship I really urge you to listen to this song over and again. Or if you're to lazy to put in the time you can use my following lyric analysis to guide you.

"Come on skinny love just last the year

Pour a little salt we were never here

my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer"

The "skinny love" is the withering relationship. You are at the end of a lengthy relationship with someone you do care about. Pour a little salt refers to trying to preserve the relationship as if they can just save everything and pretend like nothing ever happened. One definition of veneer is a decorative cover that disguises the true nature or feelings of something or someone. When he says "staring at the sink of blood and crush veneer" I can visualize one of the members of the dying relationship standing in front of a bathroom mirror. So frustrated and so exhausted from the painstaking process they are enduring and tired of putting up a false front that always disguises what they really want to say or do. So discouraged and upset that they smash the mirror in front of them and consequently destroy the mask (veneer) that camouflages their true emotions. Bloody sink-broken glass. Crushed veneer-symbolized in the broken glass (which just so happened to be the outer appearance of said tortured lover).

"I tell my love to wreck it all

Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Right in this moment this order's tall"

I tell my love to wreck it all is a plea for the other person to end the relationship. It's like they both know that this is tearing them apart at the seams but they are hanging on spitefully...cut out all the ropes and let me fall. Just do or say something that will make things easier. Oh you cheated on me? That would cut the ropes and you could let go easier. Or how about "I don't love you". Thats what should be said but each avoids it because they don't want to take the blame. What if things actually can get better? Doubt is abundant..right in this moment the order is tall. The end of the relationship is looming. It is palpable. Yet neither want to "give up" or "give in". There must be a reason that things lasted for as long as they have right?

"And I told you to be patient

And I told you to be fine

And I told you to be balanced

And I told you to be kind"

And finally the confrontation. All of the artillery is brought to this battle. Unfixable events occur. As the song continues, this chorus gets more and more emotional. It's kind of a longing or a pleaing...I told you what was wrong and what to do (yet notice the qualities mentioned are very vague and unspecific). Be balanced? Patient, fine? It is a vagueness and ridiculousness shared by two people that date a long time. Just the mannerisms and manipulation through words and actions that hint at the other to change their ways. Things that in this confrontation of confrontations seem brutally obvious to one party that the other party just blatantly ignored. But a relationship will not last if you expect unspoken hints and secret mannerisms to fix everything. And that is the closest statement to me admitting there is such thing as a fact in this world. You never said any of this...your veneer...but you knew that things were headed down an unfixable path but you lie to yourself.

"And in the morning I will be with you

but it will be a different kind

I'll be holding all the tickets

and you'll be owning all the fines"

So the end. The realization that things are over fetches dark and often times hidden qualities in people. Jealously, spite, bitterness, insecurity, resentfulness. This paragraph nails these universal feelings in under 30 words. I will be with you but it will be a different kind: its almost like a threat that you will haunt them in a way. You will compare everything new you ever encounter to what we did and what we had. I'll be holding all the tickets and you all the fines. Its like a childish way of giving up on everything you ever had and saying "I win". You won't find anyone like me. I have all the tickets but you'll be longing for what we had (paying all the fines). The longing in Bon Iver's voice here is chilling. He understands.

"Come on skinny love what happened here

suckle on the hope in lite brassiere

my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

sullen load is full; so slow on the split"

So time goes by. Both are empty but not willing to concede this. You had something, it was real. What happened here? You cling to the impossible notion that maybe we can fix everything, just start anew. Such a helpless position to be in...like a baby suckling at it's mother. Completely helpless. Then sullen load is full. More quintessential feelings described in one line. Regret, heavy-heartedness, depression. This is the low point. And it is a "load"..a lot to carry. This would be the point of a movie where the character of interest is walking in a crowded area and all of a sudden the surroundings are in slow motion and the camera zooms in and the look of dismay presides. A "world stops spinning" type of moment. So slow on the split- this seems like it lasts forever. Will things ever change?

"And I told you to be patient

And I told you to be fine

And I told you to be balanced

And I told you to be kind"

The chorus again with even more yearning than before. He sings with such genuine affliction. And as you know, I am a sucker for sincerity.

"And now all your love is wasted

And then who the hell was I?

And I'm breaking at the britches

At the end of all your lines"

Pure unadulterated passion. This was real for me. Was I important to you? Are you really okay? This is just fueled by the fact that every encounter after the final confrontation consists of each party attempting to appear as happy as possible. I am breaking at the britches-realizing what is important to oneself. At the end of all your lines...mutilating oneself over the unfixable statements presented in the final confrontation. I should have known. Guilt, anguish. You shouldn't have known though the clues were purposefully hidden.

"Who will love you?

Who will fight?

Who will fall far behind?"

Who is going to take my place? Who will take your place? It will not compare to us will it?

Only time will tell. That isn't an answer that Bon Iver can provide. Poe and Browning can't either. Especially not your English teacher...but thanks for instilling the importance of analyzing the importance of substance in a piece of work.

Now listen again: Skinny Love

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: 9 Crimes- Damien Rice (111)

Awkward Silence- Saves The Day (77)

"Sort of Friend"

I find being socially awkward to be extremely beneficial. My real friends know that I am not the anti-social sourpuss I often times appear to be and quite frankly, if you're not my real friend (or don't chew big red), fuck you. But being awkward allows me to accomplish 3 important axioms critical to my sanity.

1) Avoid Small Talk By Any Means Necessary. Pretty self explanatory. I don't know what the weather is going to be like and to be honest I really don't care what the weather is like currently. Technological advances have pretty much nullified any hindrance in my life related to meteorological conditions. Oh its a thousand degrees out and sweat is dripping in areas this asshole talking to me will never see? I think I'll go into the air-conditioned grocery store and stop wasting my time talking to you. Oh its blistering cold? I'm just gonna skip our pointless little conversation and crank the heater in my car, thanks. So many stupid questions. How are your parents doing? Good. What are you up to now? Not much (trying to get groceries). Getting some groceries? *walks away*....

2) Avoid Confrontation. Look there is nothing in this world I really care about enough to verbally argue with you. Period. I tend to shy away from conflict regardless but there is a time and place for verbal disagreements and it is not at your boss's dinner party, the mall, or anywhere I am. Unless you're throwing punches fighting is stupid. And don't get me wrong, I love competitive verbal spatter. Greatest quarterback of all time? I will debate for hours. You think we've been to the moon? Game on. However, I don't want to listen to your

"less theoretical" disagreements. I don't care your boyfriend gave you herpes. I don't care that your sorority sister is a raging seaward. Yes I want to break up.

3) Hide Intimidation/Avoid Talking To Idiots. Being socially awkward around people usually presents one of two situations. First scenario: I'm not comfortable around you yet and/or am intimidated by you. It's just engrained in me to be shy and awkward, deal with it or we won't become friends. In this case, me being weird around you is a good thing. Second scenario: I already hate your guts and think you're a complete waste of my time. Let me give you a few scenarios: you watch the world cup, you watch the Kardashians, you take 3 hours to get ready for dinner, *insert racist comment*. This scenario me being awkward around you is bad. But look at the ingenuity of the social awkward persona!! I act the same way around everyone and then just put myself in situations with people from the first scenario more often than people in the second scenario. Brilliant. "That guy doesn't like me"..."No, he's always like that"...we continue to mingle/converse/socialize/rub elbows/drink I think we can become friends. You never see me again or I look at the ground when you walk by, chances are slim.

*Some people leave*

So now we are friends. There is no filter. I am completely comfortable discussing anything with you. Sex. God. Music. Nail-clipping technique. Sonnets. Pronunciation of the names of the Univeristy of Hawaii's offensive line. Whatever. Nothing is out of bounds, and thus I share this hilarious story with you:

Setting: I have moved into a house with my girlfriend and 2 of her girl friends. Just started my first ever rotation in a Pharmacy. It is 8:30am on the third day of said working experience. I am about to shower.

Rising Action: brush teeth, use toilet (i think it was that order...), shave face. This is where we digress from normalcy. I go to trim my armpit hair because that's what Howard Stern told me to do when I was younger and impressionable (plus straggly armpit hair is just vile).

*More people leave*

Climax: So I put my arm in prime trimming condition. Think like stretching your triceps (tricep? tricept? which is the singular?): arm bent at the elbow, elbow above the head. So the trick is to tuck your elbow behind your head so the opposite hand is free to trim. Well in the act of using "the trimming hand" to place "the arm to be trimmed" above my head I accidently "trimmed" the side of my head slightly above my right ear.

Falling Action: *Stares at mirror for 45 seconds*..."You've got to be shitting me." Don't get me wrong, this was fucking hilarious. Absurd. But what the hell was I supposed to do now. Well I'll tell you my thought process...Wear a hat? Nope, none of your hats match your shirt and tie. Call out sick and use the rest of the day trying to solve the problem? Nope, then you'd have to work Sunday and miss football. Shave your head? Nope, not sure patients at the pharmacy would trust Mr. Alopecia. Make a matching mark on the opposite side and start a trend? Nope, I'm white. Blame it on the dog? Wrestling match out of control and he bit my head...maybe. Pop the collar to my white coat? I'm fucked.

Resolution: There was nothing I could do. So I decided that I'll just go to work and tilt my head to the right a lot and hope no one notices. I mean I am socially awkward to begin with so maybe they'll just think I slept funny or something. No one did say anything. Chalk up another win to being socially awkward.

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: Mistakes We Knew We Were Making- Straylight Run (55)

Repeat Offender: you know the band/song is obscure when you can't even find it on youtube.

Foolish Games- Jewel (21)

Foolish Games.

Jewel is the tits. Awesome artist, great songs.

A culmination of events over the past three or four weeks have revealed to me the fact that if I were to hate anything more than I hate liars, foreigners, emo kids, lil wayne, or a number of douche bag athletes (bonds, armstrong, williams sisters, lebron, favre...) it may in fact be the game of golf.

The subtle yet most important word in the previous sentence is "game". There seems to be an abundance of confusion amongst most people on the planet regarding the definition of a sport. Centuries have come and gone and yet no one has ever developed a straight-forward answer. I took the liberty to look up "sport" in the dictionary searching for guidance: an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment.

It appears that Mr. Webster would include my physically taxing, mid-afternoon, unnecessarily competitive yelling contest versus the lady friend and mommy dearest at a pre-recorded game show of lingo to be a sport. Even inept intellectuals such as Antonio Cromartie would object to a statement of such ignorance (I think...) My point being that this definition is complete bullshit and the author of the dictionary was obviously a 120 pound, anxiety-ridden ass-wipe that will avoid confrontation at all costs (I digress...)

Upon further exploration, however, I found it more difficult than I thought to form the perfect definition of "sport". I mean there are certain instinctual aspects to the underlying meaning to the word sport that some people have and some people don't. The best metaphor I could come up with is the concept of pocket presence in an NFL quarterback. So when it comes to understanding what the essence of a sport really is, there are two types of people in the world, the Tom Brady's and the Jamarcus Russell's. The Tom Brady's have pocket presence. Similar to how Brady can sense a backside linebacker storming around the corner without ever looking, these people just seem to understand that Nascar, cheerleading, and most Olympic games aren't really sports. It's just a God-given understanding. Then there are the Jamarcus Russell's of the world. To put it nicely they are just large, mindless, pseudo-retards that lack a general sense of awareness. I mean you can teach them all you want but they just keep holding on to the ball until they get broken in half by other pseudo-retards like Shawn Merriman.

Now I mean absolutely no offense to anyone by stating the fact that some people just don't get it (well, except for Jamarcus Russell, Shawn Merriman, and Antonio Cromartie you should be very offended.) The thing that people just can't seem to wrap their heads around is that by saying cheerleading, Nascar, and sprinting are not "sports" in no way demeans the skill necessary to compete in said activities. Look I will never be able to do a back hand-spring, nor would I want to drive in circles at fast speeds surrounded by hundreds of thousands of hill-billies, and if I were to break an 8 minute mile tomorrow I would be ecstatic. I understand. You have a skill. But the pre-requisite of skill in a competition of interest doesn't by any stretch of the imagination warrant the connotation of sport. Sure, you can have "competitions" or "games" but you need some additional quintessential conviction in the perception of the very fundamental make-up of your contest that goes above just the ability to win or lose (which many consider the only guideline for defining a sport- the ability to win or lose). A "sport" is deeper than that. Like I have the skill to fucking nail 95% of the Lingo words before my mom but that doesn't make beating her at fake Lingo a sport. Sure it takes skill and I can win but it is not a sport. Period.

So now that I've built enough suspense to thoroughly disappoint with whatever definition I could ever come up with trying to encompass everything holy about the sacred entity of "sport" ....here goes nothing.

Sport: a competitive conflict with defined rules that you would not be embarrassed to admit your first born son plays.

Wow makes things really cut and dry when you look at it that way. Sports: football, baseball, basketball, hockey, rugby. Not sports: a)Competitions: track, cheerleading, Nascar, ballet. b)Games: Lingo, board games, thumb-wars, grab-ass.

The previous escapade defining the word sport was just a fun exercise laying the foundation to the real issue at hand: Golf. Golf, soccer, and tennis have always been the three games that I have had trouble categorizing. They're kind of mainstream but on the fringe (hilarious pun) when it comes to being a sport. For now let's allow soccer and tennis to remain a personal opinion as to whether or not you would comfortably allow your son play. But over the last 4 weeks or so, golf has slowly made clear that it is most certainly a game and not a sport.

It all began with the Dustin Johnson bunker penalty fiasco. Golf has so many stupid fucking rules. Like all sports need rules, but non-sense like this "bunker rule-violation" literally cost him a chance to win a PGA championship and is just unforgivable. And hitting the pin is 2 strokes or some shit? What the fuck?

Next up are the stupid "golf code of ethics" or whatever. No referees. Just all golfers are held to some honesty policy to be noble and not lie and shit. This is laughable. You can't trust anyone yet alone motherfuckers who wear golf cleats and michael jackson gloves.

Lastly is just the way some people win golf. It's like being cautious and boring is rewarded. Tell me what is competitive or fun about "laying up" and "playing safe" or "trying to force a tie". This attitude is not acceptable in sport. It's so gay. All I can liken it too is the fucking loser that finds ways to cheat the system to win by being the annoying motherfucker no-one likes to be around: a la the guy that holds his air hockey paddle directly in front of his own goal until the other guy scores on himself and then is so satisfied that he won it's pathetic.

This post has nothing to do with the fact I suck at golf and all of a sudden most of my friends are good at it....golf is the most frustrating thing to do in the entire world.

Repeat Offender: You Were Meant For Me (98), Break Me (76), Down So Long (111)

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: Barely Breathing- Duncan Shiek (23)

Newport Living- Cute Is What We Aim For (54)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K22qAu5s_Wo

Life is inevitably unfair. The world is the antithesis of sound moral order in which liars, thieves, and cheaters paradoxically raise the ladder while the honest are left at the wayside. There are no rules in life. I understand this. The sooner you do too, the better off you will be. Hell, over the years I've come to embrace this fact...I am going to make shit tons of money selling drugs to dumb Americans. Most of these drugs I wouldn't even consider putting in my body but to each their own i guess. You want you're son on Adderall XR so he can do better than his friend on his SATs? Okay, $149.19. You want your teenage daughter to take a beta blocker to ease her anxiety before her big musical performance? Ninety 200mg pills of Toprol XL, $255.22. You can't fall asleep because you are a dishonest bastard that hates what they have become? Thirty tablets of 10mg Ambien, $173.46. I'm not going to judge you and I expect you no to judge me for being a hypocritical prick either. I was raised to value honesty over all else and I most certainly do support free market competition but there is a significant difference between being a liar and a hypocrite (believe me, I've embraced the difference). I hate liars and will openly tell you about any of my life decisions (good or bad) with such frank blatancy it will make your head spin. Cue the hypocrisy...

Steroids have ruined baseball. Oh but what about "don't judge people" or "do anything to get ahead" so on and so forth? For the record, I firmly believe in all of my previous arguments and will stand by each until death. Baseball, however, is not the real world. Baseball is a game. Baseball has a simple set of rules that all must follow.

Think about how awesome the concept of baseball is. Baseball allows men to compete in a game on a level playing field. Competition at its finest with the prospect of not only fame but also fortune (ridiculous, more than some countries make, snoop dogg type fortune). Its like war but minus all the dead people. It tries to civilize the instinct, cut-throat, win at all costs mentality that spans generations back to the Roman Empire and before. It's like WWF but not scripted. It doesn't get any better than this.

It is really simple at its core. All men follow the same rules. You can't cheat or you are forever banned. It's a world that even God can't create.

This awesome simplicity (theoretically) allows for the measure of greatness across generations. Statistics are the tell-all. You perform against peers of similar abilities and amount a career that paints a picture of your talent. Legends can be created. When you mess with the purity of this cut and dry system, fuck you. Fuck you Bonds. Fuck you Sosa and fuck you McGwire. I'd like to give a nice fuck you to all steroid users (for performance enhancing purposes) at all talent levels. From Alex Rodriguez, to Jeremy Giambi, to the all of the cocksuckers who played with and against me at UMaine.

You are all cowards that have ruined baseball for not only me but for everyone in its history. You have tainted the untaintable (i possibly created the best word ever..). Generations of statistics are worthless. And the worst part of all is that you don't have the guts to admit it.

"Everyone was doing it"... No, not everyone was doing it.

"I did it to recover from injury"... No, you didn't. You did it to get paid.

"It doesn't help that much"... This is the most ridiculous statement of all.

Barry Bonds was a hall of fame baseball player regardless, I am not taking that away from his undeniable talent. But you're expecting me to believe that a man at the age of THIRTY SEVEN years old all of a sudden hits 23 more home runs in a season than any other season in his life, 12 more than any other player in the history of baseball from its inception to the 1990s, and 3 more than other cock-sucking cheaters of the late 90's and 2000's? Bonds jumped from 49 home runs (an incredible number also boosted by PEDs) to 73 home runs!!!!!! Seventy fucking three. In the history of baseball (or most any sport for that matter) when have the best years of your career come after the age of 35? I'll tell you who it has happened with. Bonds, Sosa, Sheffield, Clemens, Pettitte and other cheaters. 73 home runs. That is stupid. It is ludicrous to believe that taking steroids doesn't help increase your stats. Just dumb. I will be perfectly content never talking to you again if you believe that they don't because you are fucking wrong. It's so obvious it is painful.

In 2001 there were 8 hitters that hit 40+ home runs (3 at 49), 2 with 50+, 1 with 60+ and 1 with 73. In 2009, one year after the steroids testing policy was implemented, there were 5 players who hit 40+. None even reached 49. No 50's, no 60's, no 70's. That is an unmistakeable drop off. Not to mention these 40+ home run hitting players could still be on the undetectable human growth hormone.

Amidst all of this, boy do I love watching home runs. I am a hypocrite, but I am not a liar...

Repeat Offender: Curse of Curves (22), Risque (39)

BRYTunes Genius Recommendation: A Walk Through Hell - Say Anything (88)

Sweet Dreams- Eurythmics (23)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeMFqkcPYcg

How awesome of a movie was Inception? Fucking amazing. If there were a sparks note page for humans this movie would be my sparks note. Doubting reality, obsession with dreams, disregard for physics, ceaseless anguish, potent sedatives, manipulation of people, and astonishing handsomeness. My autobiography. No but seriously, i will buy this movie and watch it again....which hasn't happened since that movie where paris hilton was in her red underwear (house of wax or something like that?)...thats how good it was.

After discussing the ending with my bff, i declared it the best ending of all time. Knowing my movie critiquing history and my lifelong need for resolution, he immediately countered with the fact that to this day I have not and refuse to watch any of the Saw movies after watching the first one.

For those of you who don't know or haven't bothered to watch Saw or Inception, you don't know what happens in the end of these movies for one reason or another.

It is absolutely true that I have not watched any of the Saw sequels. Besides the pimp ass song at the end of Saw 1 (some instrumental version of Kashmir by Led Zeppelin on steroids) , there was absolutely nothing good about its ending. In the case of Saw 1, the "you'll never know" ending was strictly used to set up the sequel (and piss me off royally). Thus, I swore to never watch the sequel...or the subsequent like 12 movies they ended up making. That's bush league, Saw. This is what I like to call an empty "you'll never know " done for all the wrong reasons ending. Also known as the gay "tune in next time" suspense bullshit so we can rob you out of your hard earned money ending. Or the we really love to piss people off and we're in the position to do so ending. Sorry Saw, that only works for me in professional wrestling and One Tree Hill. Just as I had suspected all along, the grapevine tells me that you do actually find out what happened at the end of Saw 1 in a sequel Saw. This just infuriates me to no end and proves my point that the Saw people are greedy, up to no good, sell-out simpletons.

On the contrary, Inception's "you'll never know" ending was an amazing summarization everything I've stood for since the day of my birth (i so badly wanted to use the word inception there but i thought i'd spare us all the hilarious pun to focus on the point at hand (couldn't resist myself (a parenthesi within a parenthesi (is there really no singular for parentheses? (see what i did there?)))))...fall. God I amuse myself.

I have always argued that reality is non-existent. Life is one big mind-fuck. Dreams are ridiculously intriguing. Everyone's belief's are comical. Time changes anything and everything, if time in of itself even exists. I am being dead serious by the way. Literally sit down and think (for once?) about how everything got to be the way it is. It's is unfathomable. Language cannot begin to describe how seriously mysterious every single object in our world actually is.

I have so many arguments to present here but i'll stick to just one for the sake of time and the possibility of boring you/making you think i'm out of my fucking mind. Think about the concept of three dimensions. Fucking crazy. Why are there 3 dimensions? Everything could theoretically be two dimensional. You can portray 3-dimensions in 2-dimensions: drawings, television shows. Hell, you can portray 3 dimensions in no dimensions if you want by telling a story to someone who visualizes it. You can think about real world objects and events in 3 dimensions with your eyes closed. You can dream in 3 dimensions and you aren't even really conscious. It (I?) is literally insane. And Lord forbid we think outside the box on this one. You're going to believe physicists that once declared the earth 2 dimensional and believe there are only 3 dimensions?! Fuck there may be 4 dimensions (imagination?). 5 (dreaming/subconscious imagination)? Who really knows?

Point is everything we do in this world may be illegitimate. Another classic example: you could be in a coma imagining the whole concept of reading this blog. How could you ever really know for sure? We don't have a sweet personalized object-magiggy to let us know we are actually "awake". Maybe you drank like 15 beers "yesterday" and crashed into a guard rail and are on life support. But you still have the mental capability to conjure memories about any activity or object you have ever encountered and can manipulate these pieces into whatever scenario you damn well please. (For all intents and purposes, I would hope you would conjure up something more exciting like paris hilton in her underwear but hey, whatever floats your boat).

The "real" point (haha) is that we will never know for sure if reality exists or not. Just like the ending of a good movie i just Saw (too much? i'm just firing on all cylinders tonight).

I'm talking about Inception, Mom, not Saw.

Repeat Offender: Walking On Broken Glass (13)

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: Aerosmith- Dream On (24), He Loves Me Not- Dream (11), Dreams- The Cranberries (8), A Dream- Jay-Z Feat. Faith Evans and B.I.G (55), Awake and Dreaming- Finger Eleven (13), Dreams Away- Hurt (11), I Luv Your Girl- The Dream (45), Dreamlover- Mariah Carey (12), Dreamer- Ozzy Osborne (22), In A Sweet Dream- Strata (32), Never Had A Dream Come True- S Club 7 (11), Dreamin'- One Republic (5), American Dreamin'- Jay-Z (14), Day Dreaming- DJ Drama (31), Here I Dreamt I Was an Alchemist- The Decemberists (6), Dream Weaver- Gary Wright (2), Liquid Dreams- O-Town (1)

Wow, a plethora of 5 star and quasi-5 star songs related to dreaming...

Miami- Taking Back Sunday (36)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCLkPY-DO-g

So this was the best song on my computer with the word "Miami" in it. You would think watching LeBron James and his ridiculous "The Decision" special would just reinforce why I hate most people in the world in general. It did. But surprisingly, my trip to Boston and Fenway last weekend embodied everything wrong with people in the world in general. I know no one is perfect but fuck, when did everyone stop trying?

First things first....LeBron James is an overpaid, smug, silver-spoon fed, brat with poor sportsmanship and turrble moral compass that has never had to work for anything in his life. That is just a fact. His (undeserving) sense of entitlement literally made me vomit (that and the handle of jack i polished off). News flash asshole, YOU HAVE NEVER WON ANYTHING. Your last championship was a Divison III Ohio High School Basketball Title bro. I have a high school basketball state championship. I was a small white sophomore who actually never played a minute on the title team but you know what, I pimp that gold ball like I hit the game winning shot and I feel completely comfortable doing so and you know why? BASKETBALL IS A TEAM SPORT. The NBA is so grossly individualized (worthy of its own blog) that I only watch the playoffs anyways (which is a marathon in of itself) and you know what I've seen you do in the playoffs? Lose for one. Fake shoulder injuries, two. Not shake your opponents hand after defeat, three. Look I hate losing more than I hate emo kids who wear skinny jeans and plaid shirts with their boxers hanging out, but the day I walk of the court/field and not shake my opponents hand will be the day i shit strawberry flavored lollipops out of my asshole. That is the ultimate disrespect not only to your opponents but the entire league, its fans, your teammates, and anyone who has ever competed in any sport at any level. Fuck you. You are not better than the game. Michael Jordan isn't better than the game. This league gives you and your peers the opportunity to play a kid's game for your adult life and make more money than most countries in africa can even imagine. The sooner you realize that we the fans allow you this reality, the better off you will be. You are privileged to have us. We are not privileged to watch you, you arrogant motherfucker. And by the way, joining forces with 2 other immature all-stars that are yet to understand the big picture doesn't guarantee you a championship either. I am in no way a fan of Boston's big 3 but when they came together they were mature superstars heading toward the end of their careers desperate to win a championship. Willing to do anything...cut salary, cut playing time, put up worse numbers, etc. Bosh, Wade and James are cocky ego-maniacs that need the attention and MVP numbers to be happy. And just for the record the only reason Dwayne Wade ever won a championship was because of Shaquille O'Neal and if you think otherwise you are kidding yourself.

On a different note I'm shocked that "The Decision" wasn't rated TV-MA. I didn't know you could show Jim Gray sucking cock on TV without any warning.

And to avoid another slur-filled paragraph-length rant I will just let the Vitamin Water shit slide. A vending machine in stocked with only Vitamin Water in the background? That's realistic... (and a horrible economic investment to boot). A half finished Vitamin Water next to "King James". Right. A billion commercials for it. Vitamin Water tastes like I ate a bunch of strawberries and pissed in a bottle.

I feel a little better now. But I fully expect to hate pampered athletes and star struck sports writers. However, when I went to Boston this weekend I soon realized why I am the anti-social prick we all love and adore. I love baseball and always will. But there might have been 10 people in a sold out Fenway Park that I could stomach just talking to. In fact probably less than 100 people in the entire city of Boston that I would actually enjoy having a conversation with. If you don't speak English it's not happening. There goes like 50% of the city right there. If you are wearing an authentic MLB jersey, have visible sunscreen spots you forgot to rub in, if you think you know way too much about baseball, if you are a raging bitch, if you scream "ooh" on every fly ball, if you don't know who heidi watney is, if you are eating fruit, if you talk on your cell phone mid-game, if you take up two seats because you are morbidly obese, if you make out with tongue in public, if your gross underwear is showing, if you are a dude with thong sandals, if you have a fanny pack, if you think david ortiz didn't take steroids, if you don't know the name of the team the Red Sox are facing, if you call the field "Fenway Stadium", if you sing along with the national anthem, if your kid is annoying as shit, or if you drop the peanuts when the peanut guy throws it you don't make the cut either. We're down to like 5% now.

How fucking hard is it to go into public, keep to yourself, enjoy the game, and not be a complete failure at life?

Now I know how everyone around me must have felt 2 weekends ago when I got kicked out of the Taking Back Sunday concert at House of Blues in Boston for being "too intoxicated". Jeez, I should have at least tried to fight some of the aforementioned emo kids, i no doubt could have taken like 15 of those punks.

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: In Our Defense- The Academy Is (55)

Repeat Offender: Cute Without the "E", MakeDamnSure, Timberwolves at New Jersey, Everything Must Go...great band. Highly recommend all of their CD's.

Run This Town (remix)- Lil' Wayne (44)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1dvs3HJ-rw

For the six of you die-hards that have been here since day one, you know what I think about "lil' wayne", "weezy f baby", "young moola baby" or my personal favorite, "you're in jail you dumb motherfucker". Also, you are well aware that I can at times come off as very insensitive and maybe "push the envelope" or "cross boundaries" while taking baby steps toward uncovering my more literal case and point. This is one of those times. NSFW (always wanted to use that). I offer this as a forewarning to the overly sensitive, non-full-picture-grasping, easily-offended type that can't withstand a barrage of strictly un-political correctness and brutal honesty en route to delivering my take-home message. Leave now and forever hold your peace. I'll even hit enter a couple of extra times as to allow your clean escape and to trick my mom into leaving because she won't realize that there is more text.

I went home this weekend to visit my family and friends (i love you mom), much needed. Per usual, I drank like six nights in a row, accomplished none of my schoolwork, and had earth shattering conversations about midgets, rappers, college baseball, and a bunch of other shit.

Now, my family and close friends are the one thing I do take seriously and would do anything for (in case you were wondering). One of my favorite activities is our patented "game nights" (note- there is no way the grammar in the previous sentence is/was (what tense am i in?) correct). Fun packed with fierce competition, dry humor, and enough sexual innuendoes to make disney movies and nickelodeon shows appear clean (think about it...tippy dink is my favorite, what is yours?). Not are the nights totally awesome but they also teach you many things about yourself and whoever else is there. Like, for instance, I suck at drawing. And singing. And acting.

Another thing I suck at is rapping. Go figure right? This is common of most 23 year old white males. But one thing I have always prided myself on is the ability to use words to get my point across (god knows i can't talk it out). My favorite people in the world 1) catch on to my hysterical puns and 2) make puns of their own that make me giggle to myself. My best friends are well educated, quick on their feet, surprisingly talented comedians, and for the most part convey their humor masterfully into printed words via facebook. Pretty simple criteria to be cool in my book, really.

The underlying argument here (and always) is that I am undoubtedly more intelligent than Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr. but he writes raps that (sometimes) are pretty clever. Now again, I can't rap. But...my argument is that i would be a damn good rap writer...

People have both advocated and quarreled the aforementioned claim. So now is when i settle the case once and for all and write a quick little something to let you decide if i could be a ghost writer for the biggest rap stars around. Obviously my first rap, like any first raps must: 1) be about my superior rapping ability 2) describe how my clique is better than yours 3)contain cool lyrical allusions 4) reference making money 5) contain numerous expletives 6) and end with many words that end with -in'.

This is a serious attempt. If anyone has any skill at rapping feel free to contact me and we can work out a deal like 60-40 or something because this shit would go straight to number one.

"you need a map to follow my logic nigga, like garmin

put a face mask on to intercept the topics son, like marlin

jackson pick-sixin' the real tom-tom yea ending your season

can't follow the the Journey, like "don't stop believin'"

young and gifted man, fuckin' skippin' the minors like starlin

blowin your mind all over the walls and shit, like charmin

quilted soft when you're groaning and squeezin'

my puns are allergic and sharp, leave you sneezin' and wheezin'

my lines are never disappointing,

metaphor after metaphor

unlike your night at the bar boy,

where you bang a 10 but you met a four

you're delusional, confused and all

googling these words trying to make sense and stall

you're taking too long man hurry, like "there she goes"

six pence none the richer mtv music videos

richer than you too bro, rakin' in cash with garden hoes

you? could probably suck a golf ball through a garden hose

fag... with your queer gimics and dumb lyrics

i'm smarter than you shitfaced on liquors and spirits

throw in the towel man, crown the champ like jesus

me and my boys will crucify you, believe this

when we say wee're not joking like howard stern brah

we're sirius..."

Pretty tight, i know right. Like i could never rap it. I have no flow or skill. But get some talented fuck on there and this imagery will make him famous.

A deciphering cheat sheet:

garmin: a knock off brand of "Tom-Tom"

marlin jackson: picked off Tom Brady to end the Patriots season in 2007

tom-tom: a double entendre referring to the real "Tom-Tom" and Tom Brady

Journey- the band that sang "Don't Stop Believing"

starlin- refers to the cubs 20 year old Cuban shortstop starlin castro

charmin- a brand name toilet paper

met a four = metaphor (sly)

six pence none the richer- band that covered "there she goes" in the 90's

golf ball thru garden hose- references Full Metal Jacket...talking about gays (hence the next line)

jesus- was crucified according to the Bible

howard stern- like basically started "Sirius" satellite radio siruis = serious

What do you think?

In other news i am so dehydrated from the weekend i sneezed today and split my lip. Also, the chocolate candy Rolo's should not come in a stick package. Chocolate is not conducive to the whole "pushing from the bottom of the package to pop one out the top" set up. Leave that for Mentos. Why have the best Mentos I have ever eaten come from the handicapped kids selling them at Bangor High? Should I be nervous? Like when did Mentos decide to become similar to sucking on a smooth rock covered by disgusting artificial dye that tastes like plastic wrapping? I have to go study..

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: Tab Open- Sam Adams (33)

Repeat Offender (hahahaha get it? jail..again? whew..): Prostitute Flange, Mr. Carter

ps- technology makes people so lazy. i literally misspell "genius" (another funny pun) and "recommendation" every time. genious and reccommendation in case you were wondering--but instead of remembering/learning to fix it, i just let my computer auto-substitute in the correct ones

I'm An Asshole- Dennis Leary (31)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b98k9I03FFA

So I've decided that those who engineer men's bathrooms for a living must be the people with the lowest intelligence pound for pound in the world. It is astounding to me that something of such quintessential importance can be so utterly neglected. I mean every guy uses the bathroom AT LEAST once a day, if not 6 or 7 times. Just think about that for a second. Say every man uses the bathroom on average 3 times a day, thats like 414.3 million "uses" a day in the US alone!! (if you trust the figure I pulled from the first google page for male population in the US that is). That trumps all. No one is going to church 3 times a day. No one is going to work 3 times a day. And despite all of this, below is a laundry list of the some of the most preposterous problems still frequently encountered on a daily basis in the world of male bowel movements.

1) the urinal too close to the sink conundrum: this is awkward for both parties. it's hard enough as is to pee in front of people, yet alone when a counterpart is lathering his hands inches from your "man area". and for most guys out there, i'd go as far to say that they would rather not wash their hands and be labeled "repulsive" than to accidently catch a glimpse of some dude's private and be labeled a "pervert".

2) the urinal visible to the outside when the door opens: no one wants to know how far i pull my pants down when i pee. why would you ever put urinals directly in front of an entrance? even worse, you may be unfortunate enough to encounter the urinals that are perpendicular to the door but still directly in front of the entrance! whoa. there should be a soft-core porn warning on the door in these cases. you can innocently walk yourself into a gross visible-side-dick affair.

3) you caught me pooping stalls: every man is royally embarrassed when anyone knows you are going number two (especially in public). knowing this, you would think that all stalls would be as inconspicuous as possible. not the case. how about the stalls directly in front of a window on the third floor? or the stall with sides that don't go down far enough to hide your shoes? or the stalls that don't have locks? or the stalls without a door?! just plain uncalled for. you may even cross double whammies here, a la the "visible to the outside when the door opens with sides that don't hide your shoes stall".

4) the urinals without sides: pretty self explanatory here. we might as well hold hands.

5) the really small urinal next to the big urinal: what the hell is the urinal so small for? no one wants to use that thing but no one can help from staring at it mid-pee. "no dude i swear i wasn't trying to sneak a peak, but look how small that urinal is! how did you not splash on your shoes?"

6) stalls where the door is way to close to the toilet: nothing worse than chafing your knees while trying to clear oneself. like seriously, did someone literally forget to take into consideration that humans are 3-dimensional beings when designing this stall?

How hard is it to make a bathroom that is user friendly? What low-life motherfuckers are getting paid to build these things with such disregard for common courtesy?

While we're at it...other bathroom etiquette that is routinely mishandled and should no longer be tolerated.

7) the toilet paper saga: every bathroom should have soft, think toilet paper. why is this so difficult? some toilet paper is so thin you put your finger through every time! its like the shit that comes inside clothing boxes. i don't want to wipe with that non-sense for christ sakes.

8a) flush your poop: i don't want to see your prize dump. thats what cell phone cameras are for.

8b) flush your pee: your piss smells dude. and for those of you "go green, leave yellow" conservatists out there let me set something straight with you: if you leave your gross pee behind i will flush the toilet three times just to spite you. once to get rid of it, once to get rid of the smell, and once after i go to show respect to the next user.

9) don't piss on the seat: just a douche move. everyone has been in a situation where you gotta go bad and some asshole washed the seat with his urea. just not cool.

10) no paper towels: those air dryer things suck. the longer you dick around with it, the more likely everyone else thinks you pooped.

There. Listen, learn, teach. Lead by example and we can fix this pandemic.

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: DMB's shit (get it?)

Simple Man- Shinedown (47)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5gvSzbSMNg

I love this version of simple man by shinedown. This blog is regarding how fantasy baseball reveals why men rule the world.

Simplicity may be the single most overlooked, under-appreciated, neglected quality in the world. The art of being simple is not as straightforward as it seems. There are so many high-maintenance, hard to please, over-analytical, never-satisfied, over-achieving, pretentious individuals in the world it makes me want to vomit.

As hypocritical as this statement may appear, riddle me this: how many people do you know that could eat a bologna and mustard sandwich everyday for lunch for the entirety of 3rd grade, who would diligently pick at an ingrown chin-hair for one full hour until it surfaces and manifests a celebration of overly-heralded exuberance, who else calls his mother "jaundice" because it sounds like "candice" and is tickled when she can't tell the difference? You would undoubtedly lose all respect for this guy if you really knew what amuses me on a day to day basis. I'd go as far to say that you might think I have a slight form of autism or mental retardation (side note- every single time i handwrite the word ratio i always spell ration and i think there is some deep-rooted mental problem that i've yet to have been diagnosed with--it's like a reflex of some sort).

Anyhow, my newest simpleton tendency is being totally addicted to fantasy baseball. And i've got to admit, as little as 4 years ago i was the biggest neigh-sayer around regarding fake sports. What's that old adage? Those who can't do, teach or play fantasy sports? Well shortly after foot surgery due to a Lis Franc fracture dislocation that abruptly ended my dreams (fantasy?) of playing professional baseball, I took up fake baseball. The glass-half-empty perspective of my (second) foot surgery? I am currently no longer allowed to take 3 vicodin every four hours. The glass-half-full perspective? I have been introduced to the wonderful world of fantasy sports. Look, it could be worse. Chien Mien-Wang and Jeremiah Trotter both suffered Lis Franc fracture dislocations...at least I have my self dignity.

To the point...

I set up a fantasy league this year and it consists of myself, my brother, 4 friends dating back to elementary school, 4 dating back to middle school, and 3 dating back to high school. The remaining 3 members are college compadres. We span 2 countries, 5 states, and 2 sexual preferences (not really...just being facetious ky guy). Every week is a fierce competition of head-to-head statistical match-ups, self-chauvinism, hysterical rants, and spiteful texts. The idea is so simple yet utterly and breathtakingly brilliant. Collect a group of long time friends, pit them against one another and a the end of the year you have endless conversation and anticipation until the next season starts. Fantasy sports unite men who share a lifelong passion for a sport they can no longer play at a high level.

There are two reasons women don't play (or suck) at fantasy sports. First, they are too complex. They lose focus and treat silly competition like grab-ass tomfoolery. The world of fantasy sports (and dare i say the real world) is cut-throat. Only the strong survive. Secondly, women don't have enough friends to field a league. I'm sure I sound completely sexist...well then so be it. Find me a female with more than 10 friends that she is willing to text right now that she genuinely likes and doesn't consider a slut and I will forever retract the previous statement. Until then ladies, that is exactly why men rule the world: we are fiercely competitive and can bring in the reinforcements of long time allies if need be. Females are so preoccupied with hating each other that letting them run the world would most certainly be deleterious to the nation.

Repeat Offender: 45 (110), Call Me (95), Burning Bright (35)

BRYtunes Genius Recommendation: Far Behind- Candlebox (90)

White America- Eminem (90)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLMqbzpBrYA

This is an argument I've had with numerous people for one reason or another. Well I guess it’s not really an argument because I always win. America is the greatest country in the world; if you disagree then you are wrong. Even if you were to attempt to prepare a case against me, I still win because I don't give two shits what you say or think on the topic.

First and foremost, the US is the richest, most powerful, badass country around. Fact. That's just numbers. But let's pretend like that doesn't matter for the sake of argument (but really it does so you lose before we start).

So I'll present you with some of the most common strategy of attacks against the US and then systematically dismantle them.

1) 1) Americans are ignorant of culture. Right, the country that’s own culture is a melting pot of like a billion cultures mashed into one awesomely unique society is ignorant of culture. Last time I checked you are free to do pretty much anything you damn well please in the States in regards to your heritage and its ceremonies. In the middle of downtown Manchester, New Hamphsire -most certainly the first city you think when you think of racial diversity-there are pharmacy students of asian, chinese/Japanese/both?, saudi arabic, hispanic, african American, dominican, and latino descent. And those are just the ones I dare attempt to conjugate suffix-endings for. My neighbors from back home are originally from Gambia, Africa. Two of my roommates and close friends from college hail from Curaco of the Netherland Antilles and another is from Burlington, Ontario. There are Mexican and Thai food places in Bangor, Maine. So I say to you, “ass clown claiming ignorance of culture as a downfall of America person”, find a place on earth more culturally diverse and I will gladly buy your plane ticket the fuck out of here.

2) 2) The states lack historical worldliness. Before I annihilate this one, I never even understood the argument presented to begin with. What is so great about old things? Seriously… “this was built 200 years ago and contains so much history” Yeah, that’s probably why its crumbling and smells like mold. This was the palace of King so and so. And what did he do again? Oh slaughtered people with his militia and ate grapes, sweet man. To “the historian”, I say this country is the most successful society in the history of the planet and was established in the name of freedom as opposed to world domination. We as a nation are a living, breathing, pure creation of history each and every day.

3) 3) Americans are insensitive to those in need. This is my favorite. First off, you are admitting inferiority by acknowledging the fact that the US is responsible for making sure everyone is doing okay. Secondly, be more awesome like us and you wouldn’t need our help. Just because other countries are still waging religious wars and beating their wives’ doesn’t make us responsible to feed their children. Tell me how I really feel. No but seriously, free-market-survival-of-the-fittest isn’t just the way we do things, it’s the way evolution does things. Take care of yourself, your family, and then help others if you can. Even with this go for the throat attitude I embrace, I think you’ll find America is still the best place to reside. Freedom of speech, religion, and press. Equality. Democracy (well, sort of…topic for next blog?). Oppurtunity. The fact that immigrants continually and willingly risk their lives’ to come to the country to start new lives speaks volumes to the environment. It’s like the best of both worlds. Fierce competition for success but with an underlying dose of patriotic compassion and friendliness. Tit-for-tat. You help me and I’ll help you. To the, “the US is insensitive and inconsiderate” dissenter, I say- the world is insensitive and inconsiderate. But if you’re not lazy and can tolerate others and their beliefs then you’ll do just fine in the States and won’t need any of my charity.

So there you have it. Game, set, match.

Repeat Offender: Eminem is the best rapper dead/alive of all time.

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