It's the new style

4 and 3 and 2 and 1, and when I get to school, the suckas run. (Modified lyrics from the Beastie Boys in case you didn't pick up on it).

My new bag came the other day and It's got me really excited for school. (In case you were wondering, yes this is still my blog although I can understand how the last sentence may have caused you to think that you suddenly were reading the diary of a 15 year old girl). Whatevs. I really wanted to get the Nintendo Cheats Code bag - messenger with tons of classic Nintendo cheat codes written all over - but it wouldn't fit my new laptop. Unwilling to sell out and get something plain, basic, "professional looking" or in leather, I scoured the internet and eventually found this:

And while you may not be able to make out what the lining design there is, it's cassette tapes. Bad ass. I snagged it up with the quickness, on sale, from Caselogic.com. One friend described it as, "it screams Bob".

Now the school mandates that I get a shiny Mac to do my work on, so without many options I got myself a refurb 17" MacBook Pro. I went refurb because the new models cut out the DVI port (which is pretty necessary to hook up to a monitor) in lieu of a stupid new proprietary Apple connection interface. But I'm sure they'll have Jason Long tell you how cool it is to spend an extra $35 just so you can plug your laptop into a monitor. Anyway, arguements about style over substance on hold, as alluded to, it is very stylish. While it is stylish, it's also very minimalist which isn't really my style. Sure, the clean polished silver finish could equate to professionalism but I'm not much for that either. The first thing I need to do is get access to a printer so I can make another printout of this detention slip, which I had on my old MacBook back at Google.
It's one thing to decorate your laptop shell with stickers or detention slips, and there is a such thing as overdoing it. I'm not going to preemptively stereotype, but I'm almost positive at least 1 person at school will have gone sticker crazy on their laptop like it was an emo band guitar. I'll try to keep mine tasteful.

Bob's Guide to Choosing a Bar

A friend recently said, "I don't know anything about bars" in the midst of us deciding on a location for future plans. Seeing as how I've drink, drank and gotten drunk in a decent number of establishments I decided that I would impart my thoughts and wisdom on the matter, with this, my primer to bars.

1) Acceptable Female/Male ratio - This is el numero uno on the list of important things. The ratio must be greater than 1:1 (too coupley), and my preference is typically for a minimal 1.8:1 ratio, which gives the bar a more noticeable "mixed" feeling to it.
The reasoning being the higher ratio is I find that while guys may go out in smaller groups (2-3) while girls typically prefer larger groups (4+, some of which are mixed company). The inherent "largerness" of girl groups cuts down on the number of unique groups and makes something like a 1.5:1 ratio feel indistinguishable from a 1:1 or worse ratio.
A word of caution however. You want to avoid any location where the ratio swings beyond 4:1. While it may seem like a paradise let's break down the numbers. That means in addition to you, and her, she's got 3 friends on average. If you're operating without a net, maybe you can overcome this but the majority of us work in tandem with a wingman. So, let's add him to the equation. Now you and your buddy have approximately 6 other girls to contend with, appeal to, appease and just generally deal with. Factor in other variables and very quickly paradise is lost.
So stick with a more manageable ratio.

2) Beer (drink) selection - Whether beer or overall drink selection is more important depends on the make-up of the group you are going out with. If it's just you and a bunch of guys watching a game, you need only concern yourself with the available beer selection. If that's the case your decision should focus on the establishment with the most beers available, weighted against the other guidelines to follow. Note: Guys going to a bar to watch a game and drink wine should never have their preferences considered. Rather they should be mocked at frequently and harshly.
Now if you are going out in mixed company, you'll likely have to make some concessions, i.e. - you may not be able to convince everyone that they should follow your lead and attempt to drink 60 beers from around the world. More "upscale" places probably have a website where they like to tout their libation selection but it's generally to be at best the same as you'd find at the local dive. This is where knowing your groups drink preferences can come in handy as bartenders, and by extension, drink strength and correctness vary by location. You can use knowledge of who makes the best Margarita as a handy bargaining chip to sway votes to a bar that has your preferred beer on tap.

3) Drink prices - Just as almost every other decision in life, money is going to come into play. What you are looking for are places with drinker friendly deals and specials on things you and your group enjoy. Don't just go for cheap drinks (or at least go to a place specifically for the cheap drinks towards the end of the night). Here's where your sense of value will come into play. Say Bar 1 is offering $2 Miller Lite bottles from 10-12pm while Bar 2 is offering $3.50 well drinks. All things being equal between the two bars you have to ask yourself, "is it work $1.50 to have to drink Miller Lite?" Provided that the well drinks at Bar 2 aren't watered down beyond belief, your choice should be bar 2, and if in mixed company or with a guy who loves "girlie" drinks it's not even a question. Let him order what he wants, you can make fun of him while he's drinking it.
Finally and I think this needs to be said, there's an under priced beer at just about every bar. With so many varieties available, so many tastes, bars and distributors have to group beers into categories and price based on that, rather than the individual product. Factor in simple economics (supply and demand) and you get an even more perverse pricing system which can work to your benefit. Avoid over priced imports that frat boys drink to look good or show off trust fund money. The majority of them have no sense of taste, which is why you'll often find them with a Heineken or Corona in their hands. Bars know and exploit this lack of taste and will typically charge more for these drinks than a superior ale (Newcastle comes to mind) or lager (Sam Adams). Drink the good stuff that's undervalued and when you hit a cash flow shortage then switch over to Bud and Coors or Miller (if you're desperate). By that time it'll be too late in the night for anyone to notice or care.

4) Reason to go/Gimmick - Something has to get you in the door. Whether it's the largest selection of beers in a 50 mile radius, it's 2 blocks from your place, 10 cent wings, a mechanical gorilla that dispenses peanuts, a great place to see a local band, the lap of luxury, where the beautiful people go, or just where everyone knows your name - there needs to be a reason to go. Different gimmicks will appeal at different times, in different situations so it is a wise move to stay current on unique factors for each place. You don't want to show up at the door wearing a sweater vest and a pair of khakis with a group of uptight accountants to find that your chosen destination is the area's biggest Death/Thrash/Speed and Black Metal venue. Or maybe you do like having the crap kicked out of you, I don't know.

5) Ambiance/Music - Once you're there, you need a reason to stay. Different bars serve different clientele with different needs. If you're going to watch a game, you need big tvs, cheap beer and an open kitchen cranking out burgers, fries, buffalo wings and other snacks. If you're celebrating an engagement (as long as you're in favor of it) or getting into medical school, you'll want something with a few more bells and whistles. I'm not going to go step by step on what ambiance goes with each situation but do put some thought into it early. If you want to have a conversation with friends and catch up - stay lo key so you can hear them. If you're just out to look good, go somewhere loud and bright so that no one can hear the drunken ramblings that come out of your mouth but everyone can get a good look at what your momma gave ya.
Nothing defines what an establishment is more than the music they play. If the music's not for you, avoid going. If you like to dance find a place that plays hip-hop or something created by electronic bells and slide kazoos that someone mistakenly tried to pass off as music. If you want to hang out with buddies and just drink, a jukebox is all you need.

6) How to get home - Always something you should at least put a cursory thought into. If you live in New York City, you know you have the best public transportation system in the country to assist you (just make sure to write those train letters down). Everyone else, whether it's a DD, walking, cabs, or a less efficient public transit system just make sure you have an idea of how to get home safely. Drinking and driving is inexcusable and beyond stupid but I'll save those thoughts for another post.

There you have it, Bob's Guide to Choosing a Bar. Go out and have fun. I'd say "stay thirsty my friends" because it's a great line but the Dos Equis people would sue the crap out of me.

Oh oh oh, listen to the music

My moods, and even my actions, are typically influenced, sometimes defined by whatever music is playing. Even if it's only playing in my head. Music is just a natural part of my life. Everyone and everything has a song to it. I think it's something I picked up from dad - no matter he was doing there was always music. I'm not sure if it's a real memory or one of those fake ones your mind puts together, like Bogart saying "play it again Sam" in Casablanca - he never says that - but I remember being the in the garage working on one of my [award winning] pine wood derby cars and listening to Dire Straits. Anyway, I mentioned that because of the last South Park episode that I watched. My car's never set any records for speed, in fact I think I usually finished last in my den in actual racing. However, my dad and I did manage to design aesthetically superior cars that took home best looking honors each year. I still have the trophy back in New York somewhere.

I guess that's a lot of backstory just to tell this quick five minute or less one, but whatever. It saves me from having to explain why certain stories, characters and time periods in my life have their own theme music, so good to get it out of the way first.

And now, the actual story. (Prepare to be let down. It's okay to be, I'm pretty good at hyping things up, whether they live up to the hype or not isn't my concern. I'm just trying to get you to read all the way through.)

I went to the bank earlier today to cash a check from my roommate to cover his share of one of our bills. The teller was friendly, I wind up dealing with her every 3 visits or so - it's not planned just randomly happens. Actually, if I did plan it I'd never deal with her and only with the girl I usually uhm... get serviced by (naughty) two visits after this girl I dealt with today. Confusing enough for you? It's okay, I get paid by the word.

After concluding my banking business I walked out of the bank and jumped back into my car. It was sunny and warm out which means two things: 1) windows down 2) music up. As luck would have it I didn't have to station surf as my ears were greeted with the chorus of the Steve Miller Band's "Take the money and run". Having just exited a bank and hearing that song I suddenly felt like Clyde, and although there was no beautiful Bonnie to my right, I peeled out of the little suburban bank like I had just robbed the place and shot two cops on my way out. It put a smile on my face as I high tailed it down the road with the wind whipping around my face. I don't know why I do these things, I just go where the music takes me.

Jack wants a piece of the King

You don't find many Jack in the Box "restaurants" (honestly I couldn't think of a better word even though there has to be something more appropriate) were I grew up on the east coast. In fact, I remember the first time I learned there was a chain called Jack in the Box was after they had a massive recall for e-coli and a couple people died somewhere.

Anyway, they're plentiful out here, and while I have only eaten there a handful of times, and none recently, they do have a very enticing value proposition (MBA phrase). You can order anything on the menu, at any time. Translation: breakfast is served past 11am. I'm a big fan of breakfast so I can't really put into words how happy this makes me. I'd be extremely happy if their breakfast offerings were on par with McDonalds, because a sausage biscuit at 11pm or 1am would really hit the spot some nights. Sorry, this post is about Jack taking on Burger King. My guess is they believe McDonalds is too strong or they just want their oversize headed mascot to battle BK's oversize headed mascot.

The Jack in the Box commercials I've seen out here are usually pretty good. You know the BK burger shots commercial with midget, uh, little farmers? Jack has midget cowboys "driving cattle the size of schnauzers, but they're cattle" to introduce his mini sirloin burgers. While that's good, this ad is hands down my favorite because I've always been a big fan of calling someone out and wanting to go toe to toe - maybe that's part of the reason I'm part of the Pepsi Generation. Plus, I think they hired Carrot Top to be Jack in this commercial.

Rockstars don't do paperwork

Everyone hates corporate speak - those ridiculous phrases that lamely attempt to connect the corporate working world to the outside world that people love. "Thinking outside the box", "low hanging fruit", "action items", etc. During my time at the Goog (Google) I was exposed to tons of it, and at least according to a recent poll of most anger creating corp speak terms, I was bombarded with the next generation of asinine phrases that haven't even hit the mainstream working world yet. Just wait until you're sitting in a meeting and someone wants you to "parking lot" your idea, or someone else wants to "piggyback" on it.

Despite holding in laughter upon hearing the majority of these phrases, there was one, I don't even think it's a full on corporate speak term yet, that drove me nuts - referring to an employee who did a good job as a "rockstar". It was infuriating. What happened to the lame corporate/sports metaphors, saying they "really knocked it out of the park?". Sure it was lame but at least it fit. A Rockstar? Seriously?


If you have a job where you are expected to show up daily - you're not a rockstar.

If you have a job where someone tells you what to do, and you have to listen - you're not a rockstar.

If you have to worry about sexual harrassment - you're definitely not a rockstar.

It just doesn't fit. I understand that they want employees to feel good about themselves, and think that comparing them to a desireable occupation is motivation, but it's a big lie. You sit in a cubicle, you do paper work. Even at Google, you're just about the furthest thing from a rockstar - no offense to everyone still there, but c'mon, working 9-11 hour days is not rock, even if you can wear t-shirts and shorts to work.

Rockstars bite heads off of birds, sympathize with the devil, have legendary stories involving groupies and a baby shark, blow up their drums and set their guitars on fire. They walk around with attitude, and do what they want. They don't work through lunch, analyze data or write helpful guides on how to better understand their music. They have someone else do that for them.

I think my main source of anger from this whole thing comes from this simple fact - they (managers, suits, etc.) don't want rockstars, so don't lie about it. They want non-threatening, non-disruptive, intelligent, wokers who they can to some degree control. It's not a bad thing to be one of those, but it can't be equated to a rockstar. So just drop the facade and be honest - those are the people you want.

That said, there are some occupations that could be close enough for me to tolerate the comparison - they'd be in creative fields, because that's what rock is, and that means that's where I belong.

"Rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme, just get me to school on time".




These guys didn't sit in cubicles.

----------------
Listening to: AC/DC - For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)
via FoxyTunes

How I got into school

One of the assignments I had to complete as part of my Miami Ad School application was to write a 250 word article for The Onion. Here's what I came up with. I added the image solely for the blog to liven things up.




Drug Cartels introduce “New Coke”

Bogotá, Columbia – Manuel Escobar Rodriguez, a spokesman for the Columbian Drug Cartels, announced in a press conference today that the Cartels plan on introducing “New Coke” in response to the negative growth the cocaine market experienced in Q4 2008. “We are really excited about the launch of ‘New Coke’” Rodriguez exclaimed at the conference. “We recognize that consumers no longer have the disposable income that allowed them to enjoy our product. So, as our customers have changed, we have had to change.” In their Q4 earnings call, the Cartels cited the collapse of several American Investment Banks as cause for the decrease in demand.
Rodriguez hopes that ‘New Coke’ will re-energize the Investment Banker segment, which the Cartels rely on for a significant portion of their sales. “We believe that ‘New Coke’ provides users with all the things they love about cocaine, but at a price that is more affordable in today’s economic conditions. We are confident that this new offering will help us to emerge from the current macroeconomic crisis stronger, and we look forward to being able to introduce ‘Classic Coke’ when conditions allow it.”
‘New Coke’ is estimated to sell for $30 a gram, and has been described as sweeter and less filling then the original version.

Grand Theft Auto: Port Chester

(Originally written June 2006)

Warning - This post is rated A for Adult. No persons under 21 authorized to read it without parental approval.

The night started off the same as pretty much all others - Everybody's Favorite DD rolls up to one of the hottest spots in town with a pair of beautiful girls in toe - except there was something off this time, a slight change in the usual pattern (and I'm not talking about the fact that I finally looked as good as the girls I walked in with) We arrived at the same time as a member of the Port Chester Police Department and I walked in with a cop at my back. There were no problems, no issues requiring police assistance at the time, his presence, simply foreshadowing. Had we known we would have asked him to stick around.

And so the night progressed without any thoughts of the Po-Po, or discussions on how municipal tax revenue should be spent to ensure a stronger police presence. After all, it was a birthday celebration and celebrate we must, and we did. I even indulged in my first beer since January, remarking after tasting the first bit of malted hops, "Once it hits your lips.... it's soo good". Clearly I had made the right decision in ordering a Samuel Adams (Samuel Jackson was not available) The beer was drank with all of the enthusiasm of a 17 year old, and it filled me with sadness when the bottle run empty. So I had another round... because no one should be sad at a birthday party.

As the night progressed the party thinned out, as would be expected. Eventually I was left solely in the company of quite possibly the two singularly most attractive women in a 20 mile radius. 1 with light brown hair, 1 darker brown, 1 with short hair, 1 with long; well you get the point, if you are a guy you wish you were me at this point. (But you're not so nah )

So we made our exit amidst the light rain which had begun to fall during our festivities. When we reached our intended destination, a covered parking garage where the black chariot awaited to transport us home we came upon a grocery store shopping cart. Now it being late/early depending on your preferred way of looking at the clock an abandoned shopping cart is like a veritable gold mine to a drunk person, much the same that an oversized cardboard box can provide endless hours of amusement to a small child.

We stopped and played around, taking silly pictures, pushing the shopping cart, harmless activities that would amuse those who are slightly intoxicated. It should be mentioned that the writer of this story was at no point during the night inebriated or above the legal limit for alcohol consumption by a midget and therefore can verify that all of events hence forth are indeed true regardless of their almost outlandish-ness.

It was after a good deal of innocent goofing off (about 20 minutes or so worth) that we encountered the two yutes.

Uh, Mr. Gambini - did you say "yutes" (My Cousin Vinny)

Sorry, the two YOUTHS who were no more than 15 years in age, entered the parking garage. Now parking garages are no place for 15 year olds to be hanging out, let alone after 2 in the morning but then again it's no place of mine to approach them and ask just what in the hell they're doing up so late. Anyway, the two seperate parties (us and them) remained happily segregated with no interaction save for the ability to overhear each other's conversations. Obviously they got the better end of the deal getting to listen in a 3-way discussion with 2 drunk girls while I had to settle for some pre-pubescent angst about how some guy was going to shoot them. Yeah, whatever kids get lost, can't you see I've got 2 hotties here with me on the curb? Shoo, shoo!

Unfortunately they seemed very comfortable in their surroundings and showed no signs of leaving and by now it was getting late (er) and so we decided that perhaps we should complete our 20 foot odyssey to the car. We opened the doors and got in, strapped in and began to turn the key when we heard something - something like a pop or a bang. The natural reaction, look in the direction of the sound.

Ok, located it. On the far side of the parking garage (about 250 feet in front on about a 45 degree angle from my driver's seat) I saw a man walking in to the parking garage. Well that doesn't make sense, I heard a sound like a pop and there's this man just standing there, walking, and carrying something.

Pop

A small star shaped burst of light from where the man's outstretched arm was.

Me thinking: Wait a second... is that what I ....(this thought was never actually finished because my brain quickly replaced it with the following) GET THE F' OUT OF THERE!!

"Put the keys to ignition

Step on the gas and be shiftin

Get the f*ck out of there,

or your ass will be wishin

Peeling out towards Route 1,

I'm so glad I'm not drunk

it's the freakin weekend baby

this ain't what I would call fun"

The first red light presented a conundrum - do I run it and risk having a cop pull me over, where I can explain to him what just happened, or do I abide by the rules and risk the situation that the guy with the gun (or any of the no less than 3 others we saw in the area at the time of the shooting) followed the only "witnesses". So i stopped at the red light and checked the rear view for the first time since we left the parking garage. 1 car coming up behind us, moving over to the left side Light changes green, no guns pulled, floor it - I'm not taking any chances

Make it to the Taconic parkway, ok i suppose that means we're safe. Unfortunately the whole ordeal definitely affected my driving, I had a temporary case of what I believe psychologist call a "Tupac Complex" where a driver fears other cars pulling up along side of them. At present the condition seems to have disappeared.

While driving the three of us made sure to cover all of the bases: 1) We reported "shots fired" to the local authorities, 2) we called or text messaged everyone in our phone books (sometimes twice) to let them know what happened and that we were alright 3) re-told the story to ourselves as if we hadn't just been there, at least half a dozen times 4) acknowledged that we all now have legitimate street cred as a result of this situation 5) created a series of 3-4 events that could be used against us in a game of "Never Have I Ever" including, but not limited to: "Never Have I Ever Been Shot at"6) added the additional title of "Everyone's Favorite Getaway Driver" to my list of titles/accomplishments and finally 7) decided that this type of traumatic event called for the dinner.

Once at the dinner we began to calm down and regain our composure, joking about the incident in a way that superficially covered the sheer uncomfortableness of the fact that we three now have a "hey, remember the time we were shot at?" story to tell. From there began the painstaking process of trying to explain to our waiter that yes, although it was around 4 in the morning at the diner our stories were much more legitimate than those drunken tales he had heard before.

"No really, I'm not kidding you. We were shot at!"

"You want the eggs scrambled?"

"Yes"

And from there the rest of the night played out the way you would expect. Everyone's Favorite DD/Getaway Driver successfully returned the hotties to their homes, sans gun shot wounds, and returned to his home,

Well, we all have our stories. (Swingers)

Current Music: "Crossfire" Stevie Ray Vaughn - not really

An Open Letter to Eliza Dushku

(Originally written January 2006)

Dear Ms. Dushku,

I just wanted to congratulate you on a wonderful performance last Saturday night in Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead, I thoroughly enjoyed the show. Your portrayal of a grown up Lucy from the Peanuts gang was dead on. Personally, I believe that there is no one better in the world equipped to play the part than the badass bitch from Buffy, Faith. I want you to know that I wish you the best and hope that the show continues to be a giant success. I want you to be happy and that's what makes this so hard....

We've had some great times together you and I all the way back to when we first met (True Lies). There have been laughs (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back) and there have been tears (Tru Calling - don't worry, I blame the writers). You've gotten me through some challenging points in my life (Bye Bye Love) and always known how to cheer me up (Bring It On).

Saturday night I realized something. As I was standing on the sidewalk outside the theater, no more than 5 feet away from you after the show, my friends incessantly telling me I should go over and talk to you, you looking beautiful shining under the lights of New York City, I realized something.

Darling, it’s not you – it’s me.

It’s my own precept, my own single-mindedness that would force me into a transgression. You cannot help being a Red Sox fan, you were born in Boston, it’s who you are and it’s who I want you to be. This is for the best - for both of us. We’ll always have New York.

Arrivederci il tesoro, può voi dare dei calci sempre all'asino con la tolleranza e la bellezza.

Il vostro amore,

~Robert

(When I originally wrote this post I used Babel Fish to translate something really sweet and romantic into Italian. Now, if you use anything to translate it back to English it's a bunch of nonsense. I wish I could remember what it was supposed to say. All I remember is that it was good, like one tear slowly rolling down the cheek good.)