Saturday, February 25, 2006
Hiber-Nation...
I'm watching the Discovery Channel right now and have had an epiphany. I would totally dig hibernating. Think about it. Seriously, what's so great about January and February? The answer is undeniably, "Nothing!" Now follow my logic on this one. Following the ritualistic gorging during the Holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas/Hanukkah, Bowl Week, NFL Playoffs, Superbowl Sunday) everyone feels the need to "get in shape" for about a month. Rarely does anyone follow through with these far-fetched and idealistic...umm...ideas. If we could fall into a semi-comalike state until March our bodies could live on the body fat created by the vast amounts of turkey, wings, beer, and various "dips" ingested during the previous months. We would awaken refreshed, lean, and just in time for March Madness and St. Patrick's Day. Not only that, but a few weeks of Lent would have passed wherein I wouldn't have to constantly remind myself not to eat meat on Fridays. Oh man, that would be sweet.
Much Love,
Bo
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Don't Drink And Shave...
So I'm at a bar...enjoying life. Things are good. Saw Joey...get to see him again next weekend. Got to hang out with Em...got invited to a Law School dance...life is good. God forbid my night end there. God forbid I go out like that. We've all agreed...that's not how I roll. Em comments on my hair, it's long now. Some like it, some don't, se la vie. Em comments that it could stand to be shorter, a valid point, it's getting a little out of control. I agree, oh but it doesn't end there. Em comments that maybe...MAYBE...I should shave the goat off...and the side burns could use a trim while I'm at it. FUUUUUCK. Enter low self esteem...enter narcissism...enter self doubt. The next five to ten minutes are consumed with me asking her if she's really sure about that while rubbing the beautiful patch of wonderful on my chin. She says, "Try it," I acknowledge that it would take all of about a week to grow back, then we leave for our respective homes. When I get home I go straight for the bathroom and turn on the electric razor...then turn it off...then grab a beer and drink about half of it...then go back and begin. Then close my eyes and bring the buzzer to my chin...then a little piece of me dies inside. Which piece of me is it, you ask? It's the piece that looks over 14 years of age. Here's a pic:
You have no idea how long it took my drunk ass to find an angle to take that picture that wasn't either blinded by the flash or completely creepy as hell. And, yes, I am holding the Holy Grail above my head...thanks for asking.
Much Love,
Bo
P.S. Fellas, not that any of you would, but if you're ever gonna use any "Product" on your hair...don't wear a hat afterwards...the friction of the hat and the hair doesn't react well with the "Product" and you end up with some pretty nasty shit in your hair...Not that it's ever happened to me...just that it happened to my cousin's friend once and it made him really embarrassed and it was funny...errr something.
You have no idea how long it took my drunk ass to find an angle to take that picture that wasn't either blinded by the flash or completely creepy as hell. And, yes, I am holding the Holy Grail above my head...thanks for asking.
Much Love,
Bo
P.S. Fellas, not that any of you would, but if you're ever gonna use any "Product" on your hair...don't wear a hat afterwards...the friction of the hat and the hair doesn't react well with the "Product" and you end up with some pretty nasty shit in your hair...Not that it's ever happened to me...just that it happened to my cousin's friend once and it made him really embarrassed and it was funny...errr something.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Jury Duty...
Ugh. I began my first (and hopefully last) tour of jury duty today. Let me tell you it blows. Basically you get to go down to the courthouse and sit in a room with roughly 100 strangers and...wait. That's all we did all day, just wait. Like a bunch of people at an airport awaiting the arrival of a plane for hours on end (complete with the insanely uncomfortable airport seats lining the walls far too close to each other). There are, however, several dynamics to jury duty which I feel obligated to pass on in case any of you get summoned anytime soon:
First off, there are two types of jurors. There are those who have jobs (read: lives) on whom jury duty is, at the very least, a massive inconvenience. We sit and read our newspaper or novel, attempting to avoid eye contact with the other poor saps that were too stupid to get out of this painful experience but are apparently intelligent enough to decide the fate of our imprisoned peers (side note: I did get out of jury duty once before because I was going "out of town on a business trip" a.k.a. Sully's Bachelor Party in Chicago) We fear the moment when we hear our name called to interview for a jury, knowing that being chosen is likened to a punishment for a crime uncommitted. Then there are the retired old men who live for this shit. Beware of these dudes. These guys live lives cluttered with history novels and grandchildren willing to rip their own ears off before hearing another story about granpa's stint as a cook on the USS Whogivesashit. I overheard a group of them complaining about how they had been interviewed for X amount of juries and had yet to be chosen. Maybe that's because you're senile enough to want to be here? These are the guys who are in their second and final week of duty (that's right, this imposition continues for two weeks) so they feel the need to explain procedure (unsolicited) to all of us that were there for our first day...shoot me.
Secondly, we had to go through an orientation, which was painful enough, but then at the end they have the audacity to ask us if we would like to donate the $19/day that we receive for our time back to them. Uhhh...'scuse me? Let's recap...I work a job in which I get paid hourly, by being here I'm losing money. Secondly, I thought I paid you guys in taxes...yeah my name's Brandon, I can wait while you look it up...yeah, right there, that's me...ok so why do you need more money from me?...Seriously?...did you seriously just say 'to put ferns up in the juror's lounge?'...well what's wrong with the ones you've already got?...they're getting old?...you've got a point, it is kind of drab in here...let me get my check book, I want to make an extra donation for plastic flower centerpieces for your little round tables. Fuckers.
Finally, wouldn't you know it, my first day I get chosen to interview for a jury. I felt ill (although it was nice to walk into a courtroom and not have the judge ask me, "Mr. Bowen, how do you plead?"...nice change of pace). This particular case is kind of high-profile in Cincinnati and we were advised that we would be on the jury for at least two weeks (vomit enters mouth). The prosecutor proceeded to interview each of us followed by the defendant (representing himself). During the prosecutions interview, I was asked my occupation. Upon hearing the words "Psych Nurse" leave my mouth the defendant immediately began writing notes next to my name....I was the second juror dismissed from the case. A choir of angels exalted and the court room ceiling opened to reveal a holy light as I walked out of that damn place...all the Focker jokes were worth it for that single moment.
Anyway, I've got two more weeks of this crap and I think it's safe to say that I don't have the most positive attitude towards it. I know, I know, it's my civic duty blah blah blah, that doesn't mean I have to like it. I'll keep you guys posted on how this episode of my life ends up...should be interesting if nothing else.
Much Love,
Bo
First off, there are two types of jurors. There are those who have jobs (read: lives) on whom jury duty is, at the very least, a massive inconvenience. We sit and read our newspaper or novel, attempting to avoid eye contact with the other poor saps that were too stupid to get out of this painful experience but are apparently intelligent enough to decide the fate of our imprisoned peers (side note: I did get out of jury duty once before because I was going "out of town on a business trip" a.k.a. Sully's Bachelor Party in Chicago) We fear the moment when we hear our name called to interview for a jury, knowing that being chosen is likened to a punishment for a crime uncommitted. Then there are the retired old men who live for this shit. Beware of these dudes. These guys live lives cluttered with history novels and grandchildren willing to rip their own ears off before hearing another story about granpa's stint as a cook on the USS Whogivesashit. I overheard a group of them complaining about how they had been interviewed for X amount of juries and had yet to be chosen. Maybe that's because you're senile enough to want to be here? These are the guys who are in their second and final week of duty (that's right, this imposition continues for two weeks) so they feel the need to explain procedure (unsolicited) to all of us that were there for our first day...shoot me.
Secondly, we had to go through an orientation, which was painful enough, but then at the end they have the audacity to ask us if we would like to donate the $19/day that we receive for our time back to them. Uhhh...'scuse me? Let's recap...I work a job in which I get paid hourly, by being here I'm losing money. Secondly, I thought I paid you guys in taxes...yeah my name's Brandon, I can wait while you look it up...yeah, right there, that's me...ok so why do you need more money from me?...Seriously?...did you seriously just say 'to put ferns up in the juror's lounge?'...well what's wrong with the ones you've already got?...they're getting old?...you've got a point, it is kind of drab in here...let me get my check book, I want to make an extra donation for plastic flower centerpieces for your little round tables. Fuckers.
Finally, wouldn't you know it, my first day I get chosen to interview for a jury. I felt ill (although it was nice to walk into a courtroom and not have the judge ask me, "Mr. Bowen, how do you plead?"...nice change of pace). This particular case is kind of high-profile in Cincinnati and we were advised that we would be on the jury for at least two weeks (vomit enters mouth). The prosecutor proceeded to interview each of us followed by the defendant (representing himself). During the prosecutions interview, I was asked my occupation. Upon hearing the words "Psych Nurse" leave my mouth the defendant immediately began writing notes next to my name....I was the second juror dismissed from the case. A choir of angels exalted and the court room ceiling opened to reveal a holy light as I walked out of that damn place...all the Focker jokes were worth it for that single moment.
Anyway, I've got two more weeks of this crap and I think it's safe to say that I don't have the most positive attitude towards it. I know, I know, it's my civic duty blah blah blah, that doesn't mean I have to like it. I'll keep you guys posted on how this episode of my life ends up...should be interesting if nothing else.
Much Love,
Bo
