luck

i will try and tell this story with zip as I am not sure people are still reading xanga.  but alast it goes like this...

So i went to pick up my UAB tickets the first week.  I didn't have my ID.  i knew they wouldnt give me the ticket without it, but I went ahead and tried out of principle.  After all, there is no logical reason anyone would have to have their student ID to get a ticket.  They don't scan them.  I know my student ID number and i had my driver's license on hand.  So I waited about ten minutes before arriving at the window.  I asked for the ticket.  I got a no.  I asked politely why?  She said it's university policy.  I asked for her manager.  She said the manager would say the same thing and that it would be a waste of my time.  I told her I'd be the judge of that. 

At this point my roomate is freaking out and we have a gay couple fight infront of a bunch of people.  He slammed a door on my and said I am pig headed like my dad, proceeding to walk off.  This was very awkward as I had to explain why we were fighting and why my friend acted in such an embarassing manner.  Needless to say at this point I waited in the "i've been screwed in some way" line.  I got to my turn and went through my whole story.  However, I decided to lie a little to get my point across.  I told them i couldn't come into town again before the game and I needed the ticket now!  (yelling....pop would've been proud)

So they ended up printing off my ticket in front of me and said they would put it in will-call when I arrived on Saturday.  Yes....they refused to give it to me though the knew I was that person.

Like I hinted at before, there were lies told that day.  I infact was on campus the following day.  So I stopped by to pick up my ticket in will-call.  I explained it to the window person, who stared at her computer for a while before realizing she had far too little training to properly execute this transaction.  At this point she points me to the line of  "you've been screwed over twice if your in this line again."  I told her i had already waited in line and wanted service now.  The students around me laughed.  I told her this was ridiculous.  She asked me to step aside. 

So then I asked her for my ID back.  She told me it would be waiting for me at the other line.  I told her, "no, it won't.  It won't because you will lose it and make me wait in a line to find out where it went, at which point you will tell me I can't pick up my ID without my ID."  she didnt' laugh.  The other students started to think I was awkward.  I don't know how to spell awkward, nonetheless be it.

So I go through the line, wait for thirty minutes, and manage to speak to a semi-intelligent individual.  he looked for my ID for a good amount of time, before finally telling me he can't find it.  At which point he prints out another ticket and hands it to me.  I said thank you, patiently waiting for his apology.  There was none, and thus I realized the OU ticket office doesn't care about customer service.  There wasn't even a number for me to call to tell them how they did.

So now lets jump forward to week 2, week of the Washington pickup.  Man was I ready this go around.  I had my ID, I had a smile, and I went to the lines on Tuesday.  I handed her the goods and she handed me two tickets.  She slapped a sticker on one of them and so I figured it was some sort of "here is information you should know" piece of paper.  However, as I walked away I read this sticker.  It said "Spouse/Dependant."  So I ran through a checklist.  What can this mean?  Am I married?  Did I pay for this ticket?  What is ethical in this situation? 

So I returned to the freaking "I hope you didn't come here in a good mood just to have it ruined" line.  I told the girl I don't know what to do with this ticket.  She asked if my wife didn't want to go to the game.  My first reaction was...how do you know it's my wife and not my husband.  I was actually offended she assumed I was straight.  What the heck is wrong with us these days.  But alast I let the cat out of the bag.  I told her I had been recently divorced of my third wife and that I should only have one student ticket.  She followed the normal protocal of staring at her screen, wondering of the computer would speak to her. 

She then got up, walked to a comrad in idiocy, and pointed at me and had a whisper conference.  Soon following these women came back.  They informed me that I received two tickets last week and am supposed to get two this week, and two forever.  I then explained what happened last week and that I refuse to pay for these extra tickets etc. 

I soon after realized I should've kept this ticket and sold it...however unethical, it was the fault of their inept system.  This is the same system that has screwed me out of OU/Texas tickets junior, which let to the polite, abrupt, and then angry emails. 

She told me, after speaking with her supervisor, that I would not be charged for the second ticket and that I would receive one next time.

As I walked away I realize my opportunity.  Next ticket pickup is after OU/Texas tickets are purchased, plus the chances of them fixing my glich are...well, it aint gonna happen.  So lets jump another week, where its now seven am ticket buying time. 

I purchased one ticket...too scared that if I tried two and it didn't work then I would be screwed (see Junior year).  But afterwards I tried again and bought another ticket.  Tried again and the third one wouldn't work.  They hadn't fixed it, and I had two OU/texas.  I also have two tickets for every home game for the price of one!  The opportunities!

So now lies my dilemma.  I could group my tickets together and sale them.  I could give one ticket to the gf's dad and keep mine.  I could give my gf's dad (whom shall be called Robert hence forth) both tickets and just watch the game on the couch, scoring big points with him.  Or I could buy my roomate a ticket somewhere else and give his ticket, which is grouped with mine to Robert along with my spare.  The question is what to do.   How shall I maximize my utility. 

What would you do?  This opportunity is so great, its like your doctor accidently giving you a handicap parking pass, or getting employee parking when you do not work there.  Better yet, its like getting double paychecks...and allowing there system to discover it.

you know how people say they are ok with gay people cause they have gay friends?

"Before writing the column, Couch asked Guillen for an explanation. Guillen defended his use of the term "fag" by saying this about homosexuals and the use of the word in question: "I don't have anything against those people. In my country, you call someone something like that and it is not the same as it is in this country.''

Guillen said that in his native Venezuela, that word is not a reference to a person's sexuality, but to his courage. He said he was saying that Mariotti is "not man enough to meet me and talk about [things before writing].''

Guillen also told Couch that he has gay friends, attends WNBA games, went to a Madonna concert and plans to go to the Gay Games in Chicago. "

So as it turns out...all you have to say now is that you support the WNBA (or madonna?)

I like it

Three truths and a lie.....hmm.

1) I have been beat with a hockey stick and have beaten with a hockey stick.

2) I have been beat with a golf club and have beaten with a golf club.

4) I cried after the movie Titanic. 

5) I cried after the movie Notebook.

ooh, those are hard

"keyed his face" means I went and posted on xanga.

CALIFORNIA!

This great liberal state has taught me so much about....the other side.  So the summer was 2004 and I was just finishing up my tour with the Madison Scouts.  We were doing a couple of shows out on the West coast.  We had hit up San Francisco and San Jose.   We also played at Qualcomm stadium in San Diego.  Our last show was in LA.  The day before the show I was out on the beach basking in the sun with Hollywood.  Now of course, when it comes to Drum Corp everything takes a slightly different spin.  So my friends decided to take a load off, euphamism for get sloshed at 10:30 am. 

Now usually I would like to take this story that direction and put you down a path of police, nudity, and naked chicks.  However, then it wouldn't be unique enough to tell, would it? 

Now I, a much more mature upstanding gentleman than my counterparts, passed on the alcohol.  Two reasons: 1) I didn't have money to spend on it and 2) there are two times I never drink, near the ocean and at a Dave Matthews concert.  So I walked towards the ocean while the fools stripped naked and started running through the parking lot (I guess there was nudity).

So then I took a little walk.  As I strolled down the street I ran into a girl.  Literally.

I recognized her immediately.  She was the dike in the pit at the Blue Devils.  She was famous for two reasons. 

1)  She flashed her boobs to every guy for every reason at every moment.

2)  She could turn any percussion instrument into a bong.

Now I thought to myself, when in California do as the Californians do.  So first she flashed me her boobs.  Rather disatisfying if you will.  When I called her "the dike" I meant "the dike."  We all have visions of lesbians and their kinky beauty.  "That's hot!", right?

Well guys...not so much.  Let me progress the story a little faster for those of you who are still here.  Its now the night of the day we discussed.  We are at a hotel.  I am still with the lesbian.  There was something about her that was...interesting.  I had seen her breasts thirteen and half times at this point (how do you get a half?!), and never once had requested.  I had watched her smoke pot on the beach, smoke more pot on the beach, then take the pot back to the hotel to smoke some more.  Which reminds me...I while ago I said I had only smoked twice, once with Paco and once with Amsterdam.  I lied, I did take one hit on the beach. 

Lets digress from the current situation and learn a little more about the male perception of virginity.  In a situation like drum corp, virginity is like a mark of shame.  Its an A stitched in your clothes, a branding that you carry with you.  A constant reminder that the entire reason you came to drum corp was to get laid.  Just ask my good friend, who we will not call by his name.  I learned this from the Daniel Latimer story.  We will call this one Chad.

Chad was a virgin, and thus constantly badgered for innateness as a male creature.  Now lets get back to the story.  As I sat there at the party watching people blow (or is it suck?) into the pot, I saw Chad enter stage left.  He was drunk, naturally. 

Now here is the interesting fact about lesbians.  They don't really like girls.  They just hate men.  And thus they are still plagued with their animal desire for the....well, you understand.  And thus her and chad quickly hit it off.  While the party progressed I sat there on the couch, ignoring all else and watching this situation puke itself into reality. 

The next step, naturally, was the easiest step take forward.  Thats the nature of the world.  Lava erupts at volcanoes.  We enter through doors rather than windows.  Babies crap in the diapers over holding it.  Kyle listens to rap rather than come to grips with reality.  Men have sex with women, at times, because it is easier to do so than back away.  The back step here, of course, would've been for chad to step backwards into soberness and walk away.  Of course the best step wasn't the easiest.

So chad stands up, looks at me, gives me a nod and say, "Dude, I am getting laid."  At this point he gives me a high five and they leave the room.  I walked outside to speak with another on this situation. 

On one hand this situation presents humor.  After all, as males we would rather see our friend make a mistake so we have a story to tell (such as this one).  However, I knew that if Chad's virginity had lasted this long, he surely wasn't saving it for the Dike famous for flashing her hairy breasts. 

Taking the best step versus the easy one is what makes a hero.  I, my readers, am a hero. 

I waiting two long minutes for I finally made the decision.  I burst through the door and ran through the hallway.  I was going to stop the Dike.  I burst through the door and screamed, "Chad, get the @#$@# out of this room." 

Luckily at this point alcohol had already taken the glory.  Chad laid there passed out on the bed while she lit a joint.  I examined him.  He still looked flowered.  At this point I picked him up, threw him over my shoulders, and ran out of the burning house.

That is what I would like to tell you.  However this is what truely happened.  I burst through the door, ran into the wrong room, and then just stammered at a couple I had never seen before.  Then chad called for me across the hallway.  I went out into the hallway to find him stumbling out of the room.  All he could manage to say was, "Those were some hairy nipple."

Why did he say "nipple" instead of nipples?  I don't know.  Perhaps I had a typo, or maybe he never made it past the first one.  But a couple facts are known.  Come to find out it wasn't the alcohol or me that saved our friend Chad.  It was the Dike's dikeness.  Chad did not loose it on that frightful night. 

That is my California story.

ANGER

This is why I hate white people. 

So I recently joined the workforce.  I basically am the black work horse at the office, the black work horse who never gets a touchdown.  So when I come home I am tired.  However, I am never so tired as to become trash.  My neighbor....not so much. 

They're your typical white trash neighbors.  We've all seen them.  They always land interviews on local TV news.  They somehow become victims of every natural disaster.  They turn their apartment into a front lawn stored with crap.  They are the only ones who watch "cops."  They are the only ones who sign the waiver to appear on cops.  They play the lottery as a part of their budget.  The woman is 300+ lbs.  The man is 110 and smokes a cigarrette every ten minutes while his daughter plays in the street.  Everytime the woman talks to her child you see how helpless she is.  But then again, why would the child respect her when the hubby beats the snot out of her every night. 

So now you've met my neighbors.  As I came home from work I saw kyle leaving for his job.  We pulled our cars over to the side to chat window to window, the way cops do.  We were off to the side (diagonally) in front of white trash home.  In pulls white trash minivan.  I see it stop and then slam into a spot.  He walks by and yells, "Atleast you could do is park the right way...blah blah blah."  
Now if you've ever met kyle this next part will bewilder you.  As trash man (no offense to Andy) talks his talk, Kyle lays the smack down.  So next thing you know, we are in a screaming match while he stands outside our cars.  Now I only wish he would've taken a swing.  Just so his wife and kid could watch me beat the @#$@ out of daddy and yell, "Thank god someone's finally beating ma daddy." 

His argument: he lives there

Our argument: He can kiss our @#$@#  (this argument was over the fact that he had to park ONE spot over)

So as I sat in my apartment I realized I should go key his minivan.  Then somebody gave a better suggestion. 

So we went and keyed his face.

Words of advice.  When you on lunch break and realize you have to crap....

go clock in and crap on the clock.