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Entertainment In The Land Of Sand

October 28, 2011 Leave a comment

After a few days of the internet being down I can finally post again… Every day here has been exactly the same for the last 4 months. I wake up between 530-545, take a morning piss, shower/shave if I didn’t the night before, and get dressed to head off to eat before my never-ending 12 hour a day, 7 day a week shift. Sometimes, like today, there might be a game on TV, as 6 am here is 8:30 pm back on the East Coast. The walk from the DFAC to my office isn’t that far, maybe about five minutes or so. I come in and have the same start to the shift just about everyday, booting up my laptop while handing out passes to the endless stream of Afghans that come in between 6-830 am to go to work. I visit almost the same group of websites everyday, and this consumes most of my shift until I go outside to work with the guards around 3pm. In no particular order:

Facebook/Twitter – I have both, and alot of people are seeming to creep over onto the Twitter side, sick of FB “drama”. I know almost everyone spends countless hours on FB, whether it’s status updates, recent pictures, or just creeping random profiles. Many people spend more time on these two websites than actually working, (provided they even have a job) working out, or doing something purposeful with their life. My favorite part about this is that so many people in this generation have their lives wrapped up around a computer/the internet, that they have no idea how to handle real-life situations or problems. Getting butthurt because of what someone said over a social networking site and then using the “don’t talk to me, I want to be alone” excuse has become a daily occurrence (especially for a large portion of the users that are OVER 20). Maturity has taken a huge dive, and most venting that I witness appears to be lazy fucks who are incapable of completing simple tasks at a simple job. I enjoy reading about how so-and-so’s vacation is going, or how they just got a promotion, or how they just had a child, or they’re moving somewhere exciting.

What annoys the shit out of me is the growing number of people who don’t understand what the purpose of a real job or education is, are too afraid to stand up for anything since they view “drama” as a small argument online, and take out their own failures on ex’s or bosses at work. If your boss or supervisor at work tells you that you’re doing a shitty job, there’s probably a reason behind it. Its not because this person dislikes you (maybe they do), its probably because you actually are doing a shitty job. Even better are the people that I’ve met since joining the Army who complain about the most mundane shit. I’m over here, even if I’m not being shot at at all, and you’re complaining (still back in America, not deploying anytime soon) because your unit “made you work through lunch, they don’t even give us an hour”. Nowhere in the contract to join does it say anything about “lunch breaks” or even being given time off for such.

Even better are the ones who figure out that in order to avoid a deployment, all they need to do is get pregnant. Women are making a push to be able to join infantry related units, “because we are as tough as men are” but we’ve got stupid whores getting knocked up just because they can’t man up and wield a weapon for 12 months. I even saw a status update quoting that one of them was “beating deployment” by being pregnant. I understand women, and their right to do so, to want to create a family because the Army is a hard job to accommodate such a thing. But to make a claim like that is a disgrace to the entire Army and disrespect to the people who serve for the purpose of fighting for their country. Yes, I got stuck out here in this office job, but I make the most of what I have. These women complain about something as simple as having to actually work 8 hours a day (OMG).

MLB.com/NFL.com/Nascar.com – This depends on whatever sport is in season. April to late September is baseball and nothing else to me. Six full months of crunching numbers and seeing whats going on. October to January is where I’ll be on nfl.com, during the season. As for Nascar, I don’t follow it anywhere near like I did when I was younger, but I’ll still check in from time to time.

Dikumbobulated.com – This is a forum i have been a member of for about 2 years, since it broke off into its own website. There aren’t many nice things to say about this place, other than its a group of people like myself who enjoy lowbrow humor along with the occasional retared or extreme news story. One of the best threads on here is the WTF thread, which has carried on for 6 years between the original site, and the two new ones. Nothing is out of bounds here and all can and will be posted.

Isanyoneup.com – I discovered this site a few months ago, and it has become a solid source of laughs. Basically the premise is a guy who got the idea to do a blog style posting of various people’s nudes sent in by anonymous users. Its a simple format, the persons’s name, facebook page, a few normal pictures, then their nudes. The message is simple, just like the TV commercials, never trust anyone you send pictures to as they could end up anwhere, especially a place like this site. Some posts are hilarious, such as the daily gnargoyle (a really fat girl) or posts with ironic titles (am I fat?, I think I have a bad case of the man face, most beautiful girl ever posted). There really isn’t any seriousness here, but some people get butthurt and call the site out as an invasion of privacy (false, you sent the pictures), and attempt to “threaten” the administrator with a lawsuit (nothing has taken place against the guy). Rule #1, if you’re fat and/or ugly, don’t bother taking pictures of yourself, nobody wants to see that. As if the pictures of the people aren’t enough for laughter, the guy will post a reaction to each set of photos, usually in .gif form (short looped video), and most of these are spot on. I have yet to see the same one for different sets of photos.

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The Altima, Part Six: The Arrest/No More Jarmobile

October 25, 2011 Leave a comment

Having graduated college towards the end of December, I was really fucked in terms of finding a stable job in the carpentry/masonry trade. I spent the first two weeks at home doing nothing on purpose just because I didn’t feel like doing anything right after I was done school. For the last few days of December & the first week of January 2010, it started getting boring and I made a pledge to have a job of some kind by the end of the month. After only a week, the boredom continued and I pitched the crazy idea to my dad of joining the army if I didn’t have a job by the end of the month. He apparently didn’t think I was serious, and questioned the effort of my attempt. A week later, and with two weeks of no answers from the Unemployment office, I gave up and called the recruiter. A few days later, he was at my house. Less than a week after the first call, I had signed the initial paperwork. On February 12, I officially signed as a recruit. One of my favorite questions that the recruiter asks involves drug/alcohol use and abuse. And this is where the conclusion begins.

At the beginning of March, the Summers Bros. were on school vacation up to Big Poop’s new house down in Thornton. I had just gotten my old job back at Lowe’s and had money to my name once again. I travelled down to do what else, drink beers and smoke some mary-jane. Travis “Danger” Miller had been calling for about 2 hours telling us about a party that was going on down at UNH. It was only 7:30 at this point, but we somehow were intent on staying put where we were. At some point “Black Nate” McBeath and “Kitty” Friedmann showed up, I don’t remember when. By about 9:30, 945ish, after a solid amount of bong hits, we were in no shape to leave Shiloh’s room in the basement. Travis called yet again, and somehow at about 10pm, we made the sudden decision to stuff all 5 of us in the Altima and make the 2 hour drive down to Durham. Supplies were needed, so an unnamed amount of Bud Lights were thrown into a backpack and we were off. For 2 straight hours, It was almost impossible to open my eyes more than a crack, so I could only see about 30% of the road the entire trip. I also regret not pounding a road soda on the way down.

We got onto campus sometime just before midnight and then spent a good 20 minutes trying to find a parking space in what has to be the most poorly constructed student parking lot of all time. We find Travis and make our way into the dorm for this “party” he’s been screaming about for 4 hours. The first things I notice after walking into the suite:

1.a couple of fat kids to the left standing in a group with no beers in their hands,

2. at least 3 girls I went to high school with to the left behind the fat guys

3. a group of about 10 slow dancing (yes, THEY WERE FUCKING SLOW DANCING AT A “party”) straight ahead of me

4. A loud, obnoxious, scrawny girl crying about the rules of beirut while playing against YET ANOTHER person I went to highschool with

5. I won’t ever remember what music was playing, but it was something godawful.

I honestly drove completely stoned 2 hours for THIS. Any kind of buzz I was feeling before this, GONE. I’m at a school with over 15,000 students, the biggest “college” in all of NH, and I’m really in a room where I know 6-10 people here? I ask one of the fat dudes where the beer is at, since there doesn’t appear to be a sign of a full beer anywhere in this suite. He then tells me there is none. I am almost irate at this point, having already witnessed 1-5 and I’m starting to flip out. It took the next 20 minutes or so to convince the other 4 guys to leave, with Travis trying to convince everyone the entire time that an alcohol-free party was going to be at least slightly interesting. After waiting for what seemed like an hour we left as Nate felt the need to pick up a quarter which was seriously wrapped in paper towel (classy UNH drug dealers) and cost $125 for what was really $40 worth of weed. Satchel insisted on trying to find Taylor Caggiula’s frat and going there, but I’d already had enough of UNH and wanted to head back. We made our way back to the parking lot and set off.

As rough as the trip down was, the trip back was easier but more frustrating, until we rolled up a few J’s for the ride back. We had just finished and thrown the roach out the window when we approached the store next to the road where my uncle lived before he passed away. As we got within about 500 feet, a cop car up ahead flew into the parking lot and made a lightning fast U-turn. As we drove by, he almost slammed into me pulling out. He then followed us for the next 2 miles or so before throwing on the flashers. Of course we still had the weed on us, and of all our great ideas for hiding it, Shiloh put it under the front passenger seat. After waiting forever the cop finally walks up and shines his light directly into my eyeballs and starts asking the usual cop questions. Immediately, he becomes more interested in the aroma of mary-jane emanating from the car and asks if he can take a look around. As quoted by Satchel, I then blurted out “there are no drugs in this car” [false] and within five minutes we’re all standing outside being questioned as there was no way I was gonna fuck with the threat of them bringing the K-9 unit in.

Five minutes after they pull us out I’m in handcuffs and being put in a cruiser with Shiloh, still without being told what I was ever pulled over for in the first place. As we’re waiting for the rest of the group to be locked up, I hear a clicking noise, and the Fat Fuck driving the SUV cruiser turns around. He says something to the other officer and at this time, we both realize he locked himself out of his own cruiser even though he forgot to shut my door all the way when he closed it. After about a 20 minute wait, a third crusier shows up, they unlock our crusier’s front doors, and then drive off with Nate as the only passenger. (apparently black people have to be taken away alone) While we were waiting for the third cop, I watched a flatbed wrecker appear out of nowhere, pick my car up, and then back down into the garage we were stopped across from. (really?) About an hour after pulling us over, these “cops” finally drive us down to the police “station”.

They take us in, unhandcuff us, then have us wait to get fingerprints and mugshots. The whole process was a joke as the cop really had to consult Shiloh for a second opinion on what my facial hair type was (beard, goatee?). After that, I then went to a room with a table and a big bowl of M&Ms (which we ate most of over the next 90 or so minutes). The K9 guy, apparently bored from not doing anything on shift, shows up and starts bullshitting with us. Shiloh left his jacket and Pacers hat in the room and he spent a good 15 minutes telling us how he would get raped wearing those to the Rockingham County Jail. He then tries telling us after 5 unsuccessful tries of calling Caggiula that we would be sent to the drunk tank for the night if we couldn’t get anyone to pick us up. We then spoke with the bailiff, who gave us our paperwork (charges, court dates, bail fee, etc.) We get let go at about 4:15 am, with no idea where the nearest gas station was, seeing as all our travel was done at night after business hours. We then groveled for about 4+ miles or so over the next two hours, with me wearing Kitty’s jacket as I had conveniently thrown my sweater in the trunk upon departing UNH. At this point, Satchel also realizes that the outstanding officers never bothered to fingerprint or mugshot him.

At some point just after 6, we found a shell station that was open for the morning and walked in. They had one of those in-store Subway’s with all the tables and chairs. I found one and passed out instantly. I was woken up about an hour later by Satchel telling me it was time to go. Apparently, some woman walked in on her way to work at some nursing home further south and he told her a solid lie about being left there by our friends (who somehow had a vehicle big enough to fit all of them and all 5 of us) and she believed him and agreed to drive us 20 minutes out of her way back to UNH. We had gotten hold of Caggiula by this time and he agreed to let us stay in his room (which meant I would have to be within 15 feet of James Conklin, the only kid cool enough to rock a bowl cut mullet past the age of 18). I got to sit in the corner with the TV on my lap, and the trip back seemed a lot longer than I remembered the night before. We got dropped off, found T’s room, and passed out for a few hours (with me using one of Conk’s shoes as a pillow).

Somewhere around 11, Nate was able to call his mom and come up with another great lie, that I’d illegally parked in a no-parking zone and had my car towed. She made the drive all the way down to pick us up and took us back to Big Poop’s. I ended up calling the garage first thing the next morning and found out that I owed $250, for the tow and the two days that the car had sat in their impound lot. As I didn’t get paid until that Friday, this was impossible, and they told me it would be $500 to pick it up then.  I ended up working out a deal to pay them the $250 and to sign the title over to the garage. A car that I had gotten for free, paid thousands in repair, and was still quoted at $4500 damage for the t-bone and guardrail incident, was going to cost me money to get rid of. The Altima had gone out on its last drive with a bang. I called my recruiter, who in turn emailed the prosecutor, and all I got out of the whole thing was a penalty of a $60 online alcohol awareness course. (I didn’t even drink a single beer that entire night.)

Me and Satchel drove down Friday morning in the Blazer to recover the contents of the inside. Amazingly enough with all the solid police work done by the Northwood Police Department, they somehow managed to leave every last scrap of weed, still intact in the paper towel inside my car. We signed the paperwork, and the Altima, sadly, was out of my hands. As far as I know, the weed ended up being sold to Matt Driscoll upon Satchel’s return to Ursinus. The car is probably sitting in a junkyard somewhere, just rusting away, nothing but a memory of all the stupid shit I did from the ages of 18-20.

These days, I look at the tale of the Altima as a turning point in my life. I had the high moment of having my first car, and I experienced rock bottom, being dead broke with an inoperable automobile. Now I have a guaranteed job, full benefits, a working car that has yet to be in a [major] incident, and I can pay all of my bills and loans with ease. I look back on my college days as a learning experience in life, and to not make some of the stupid mistakes I made. It’s entirely possible that someone aquired the Altima, and is now having the same life journey I had.

The Altima, Part Five: Rock Bottom

October 24, 2011 Leave a comment

After the excitement of Turning Stone  died down, it was time to go to my last two weeks or so of work and go back to school for one last semester. Like before this meant two “solid” weeks of 30 hours over  14 days. Starting on the slide downhill, I was already broke and had to make an agreement with my off-campus landlord to pay as I could to finish my semester’s rent. I did my paperwork to transfer back to working at the Lowe’s in NY again and got ready to head out.

As they had been during the whole Turning Stone trip, the brakes were squeaking, although they were now grinding a bit too. I got to my new place which wasn’t too bad, and got my schedule which was pretty easy, considering I was only taking two classes. I was still broke, so my grocery budget was next to nothing. Conveniently, the $220.00 check i had waited for from my last week of work up home showed up as all of 88 cents, since the HR department fucked me (again) and transferred my paperwork without including my last pay period. I had almost nothing, since my bank account was basically empty and I didn’t start at the Oneonta Lowe’s for another week or so. Paying my bills became almost impossible, as my savings account was closed down, and my checking was reduced to 96 cents after paying my September bill. As I started work, I finally started getting a bit of money as I had guaranteed hours, even if it was only 20 a week. Their HR was able to unfuck my situation and after 5 weeks, I finally saw my last check from NH. On the 25 mile trip each way to work, I noticed that the grinding in the brakes was really starting to pick up. A friend of mine, Steve, who had graduated the previous summer, had moved back with his girlfriend who lived only a mile up the road. He offered to do the brakes once I was able to get the money together. At this point I was barely able to afford the gas to get to work each week, and my food budget was just under 4o dollars for the entire month, since I was no longer on the Delhi school meal plan.

About a week or so into October, the vehicle finally decided it had enough, as the grinding was about as loud as it could get, and as I pulled out of the driveway onto NY Route 10, I hit the brakes, only to have them go right to the floor. I pulled the e-brake in time and kept on my way to work. Over the next few days, I noticed that every time I came to a stop, the right front wheel would have smoke coming out of it. I finished up work for the week, (I had just worked out a schedule that day to work on some free time i had to bring me close to 40 hours per week) got paid for that Friday, picked up some brake pads at Advance Auto (as we figured this to be the problem), and pulled up the Altima into the yard to do the brakes. On first note, I had done my tires the previous winter, and having no torque wrench, I tightened the lugnuts to “my specifications”. This proved to be an issue while taking the tires off, as we could not loosen the lugnuts. Using a pipe for a breaker bar proved to be useless, as we then proceeded to break off 6 of the 8 studs on the wheels. After finally getting the wheels off, we discovered the root of the problem.

After pulling off the right tire, we saw instantly that one of the brake pads had been reduced to nothing but the metal heat shield on the back, and the cause of the brakes hitting the floor was the other pad, which had broken off and was lodged between the rotor and the metal plate behind it. The grinding noise was the brake cylinder dropping into the rotor and grinding every time the wheel spun around. Two hours and $130 later (of which Steve paid [loaned] about half), we were no further and couldn’t get any parts until the next day. Over the rest of the weekend the slide to rock bottom continued as we could get no further and the vehicle was now unmovable. I had no money to tow the vehicle, and my last resort was to take the bus from campus down to the school auto garage where they agreed to take care of the issues. My dad was nice enough to loan the money to have the only car dealership in town tow the car and I would cover the repair expenses. Over the course of this, the week I was supposed to start getting almost 40 hours, I was forced to call out for a week straight, meaning an entire week of no income. After almost a week in the school garage, I was able to finally get the car back. Lucky for me, this entire time I had been somehow been able to go the entire semester without paying a single dollar for a single beer I drank or any weed that I smoked. Work got back to normal, although for a couple days, I was back down to my last dollar to get home on gas.

A few weeks later, thinking I had climbed out of the hole, I fell right back in. Now living on about $30 a month for food expenses, I would take my dinner to work some nights  including Tuesday and Thursdays which immediately followed the day’s lone class ending at 5:30 (leaving my half hour trip to my work shift which started at 6). Trying to save myself all of 20 seconds on break, I took off all the wrapping off my Ramen Noodles and threw it away. (backstory: from dropping my keys so many times, the already thin top portion of the key broke off, forcing me to carry the single key everywhere I went) Work went as scheduled and as the unload team worked straight through until 10pm, I was usually one of the last 10 or so people to leave every night. This was fine until I reached in my pocket for my key, which of course wasn’t there. This led to searching the front entrance trashcan (where the Ramen Noodle garbage was, no dice) and then a 20 minute climb into the compactor (the sign next to it says not to even climb in the tunnel where you throw your trash, I was jumping around the inside of the compactor itself). I was dead certain I found the bag where the Ramen Noodles were, although I couldnt find the key anywhere. The lone head cashier was nice enough to drive me all the way back, as it was less than 10 minutes out of her way. I was fucked again, as since I only brought the single key, the rest of my keys and the electric lock button were locked inside my car. Once again, I had no way of getting to and from work.

[Rock Bottom]I took the bus the next day from Delhi to the Oneonta station, after notifying my professor of my situation to which I wasn’t going to be able to attend his class and then walked the last 3.75 miles to work for the night. Despite not having any way of  getting home, I still worked thinking I’d find a way home. Apparently, I misunderstood the head cashier when she said she had something going on that night, as I waited until almost everbody had left to find this out. I then looked up the only two taxi companies I could find in Oneonta, and the only one who would even offer to drop me off somewhere in Delhi wanted close to 40 bucks. There was no way I could afford this. So at roughly 1030 pm, I set out hitchhiking in the last week of October on one of the steepest roads in Delaware/Otsego County, NY. With only a backpack and a 99 cent iced tea from the store up the road, it was gonna be rough. Somewhere around 1130, I made it to the other side of the city to start my climb up Route 28 south to Delhi, only a 20 or so mile trek in the dead of night. Every mile or so, I kept hoping somebody would see me and pick me up, as 90% of the traffic on 28 goes to Delhi or further west. About 40 percent of the way to the top, the stomach pains from not eating that night got me, and with no other options I ended up taking a shit in someone’s yard, having to duck down every time a car came up or down the road. Eventually somewhere around 1:30am, just as I’m nearing the top of the hill, some dude pulls over and drives me the last 15 miles or so back out to where I live.

The next day, Wednesday, Steve’s girlfriend agrees to loan me the 50 bucks i need to unlock the car, while I still have to wait until Friday to get paid and buy the new key ($120, as quoted by the Nissan Dealership). That day, I get a blessing, as i get a $140 refund check from the state as my fall loan was over the amount that I needed. Still with no car, and unwilling to hitchhike again, I call in that night. The next day, I get a ride to work courtesy of Steve’s girlfriend and the guy unlocks my car. I work my shift, wait for almost everyone to leave, then head out to my car as if I’m leaving. I make sure no one is looking, I pop the trunk, and then climb in and through to my backseat. There were still a handful of managers working, and I had to wait for them all to leave to be able to sleep without being seen. After a 35 minute or so wait, it was silent and I crawled into the backseat for the night.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of noises in the parking lot. I open my eyes to see that several of the morning shift employees have already arrived. It’s 5am on the dot. Not wanting to be spotted, I throw my shoes on and start my trek to the dealership. Had this been spring 2009, the dealership would have still been just across the street, making this as simple as pushing the car over there. I was now left with an 8 mile round trip there and back to the bus station as I would have to wait at least a day for the key to be made and delivered. I made it to McDonalds somewhere around 615, as I could at least afford to eat breakfast. Every rumor I’ve heard about old people as true, as there were about 15 of them in there, all wide awake, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. I eat and head back on my way, reaching the Dealership about 7am, just as the first guy shows up to prepare for the day. I’m still outside, about 40 degrees at this point, and its about 8:15 before someone finally offers to let me in. I go to the maintenance department, where the guy recognizes me, they set up to have the key made and my car towed across town. All in all, saving 20 seconds on a 25 cent bowl of Ramen cost me $233 (lesson learned). I ended up getting a call later that day that the key was ready to go, as soon as I could come and pick it up. That night, I ended up going to a party at 18 Clinton, a place I’d partied at maybe 3 times  in 4 and a half semesters at Delhi. I ended up hanging around there the next day and was able to find two dudes who happened to live in Oneonta and were making a trip there that afternoon. I picked up the key and my car, and made it through the rest of my last semester without any relative car issues. December 18th marked my last day as a Delhi student, and the Altima made the last journey up I-87 to route 4 back to Littleton.

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The Altima, Part Four: Turning Stone ’09

October 22, 2011 Leave a comment

Due to my spectacular 2nd year of classes, I would be returning to Delhi in the fall of 2009 to once again attempt to complete my degree. For the second straight year, I got shit for hours at Lowe’s again. With the Altima out of alignment, the tires being bald, and me being broke, the car sat for about 5 weeks until the bank decided to trust me enough to get a loan to fix it. While waiting for the loan to go through, Satchel was planning year two of the Turning Stone adventure, which was to be a week of drinking and gambling out in western NY. Since Hacker was flying in and Satch had no car, I was our only hope of getting out there. After 5 weeks of sitting, I fired up the Altima and drove it up to the garage, noticing an odd slight grinding of the brakes. A few days later, I was driving again, and this time there was a slight squeak of the brakes. After picking up Hack at the airport and being demoted to the backseat of my own car before we hit the highway due to stellar driving techniques, it was time for a good night of rest before our 8 hour drive the next day.

The next morning went off without too much of a hitch. Satchel was moderately groveling, as it is rare for him to wake before 11am during the summer if he isn’t going to work. Justin got us our bottles of Evan Williams and Zvenka (as 20 and 19 year olds are capable of liquor purchases) and we were off. The trip was rather uneventful, other than everyone screaming in my ear on I-90 as I played the gas mileage game again despite the fact that almost all the exits on this highway are 10-15 miles apart. That and Hack and Satchel being mad as all I had for the entire trip was 40 dollars and they would be footing the gas bill both ways.

Getting in wasnt bad, as we had a solid room and cable tv, good enough in my opinion. We immediately proceded to start cranking into the Zhenka and starting our 6 day assault on room service and eating chinese all three meals a day for the entire stay. The second day we convinced Rob to drive all the way out from Massachusetts in the Dog-Cage Volvo, and were skyping with Beckett to convince him to drive out as well when Hack decided to get crazy. While trying to show off by taking shots, he kicked the bottle of Evan Williams off the table which then proceeded to dump completely all over the floor and mostly into his sandals. This cut our alcohol supply in half. Lucky for us, The Hack is relatively good at Texas Hold ‘Em and a member of a poker forum where he then posted asking if anyone was staying at TS for the week. 10 minutes later he recieves a post from a guy who happens to be staying in a room- directly above us who happened to have enough beer for 10 people. 20 minutes later, I’m back in the room with this:

Yes, that is a suitcase with 61 beers in it. this managed to last us about 2.5 days, as we started playing beer pong as soon as Rob got there using our room service trays as the tables. During the time we did actually gamble downstairs, Satch and Hack broke about even, I lost my 40 dollars, and Rob set a record by losing 35o at the blackjack tables in 5 minutes.

The weirdest moment was right before Beckett arrived. We were all over by the slot machines and two dudes and some girl show up and almost managed to convince Satch to go with them by himself to the parking garage to buy weed (which we needed badly anyway). Me and Hack follow them out there (while Rob sobbed away at the other tables as if he was watching a Notre Dame game (a college he doesn’t even go to). As we’re walking to the dude’s vehicles to buy the weed, the three guys (there was now a third guy and another girl with them) reveal themselves to be “pimps” and attempt to sell the girls off to us for the night. After talking it over, hack decides that we (I) can’t afford it, along with the fact that Rob and Beckett would be unable to control themselves in this situation. We ended up never seeing these 5 again.

Once Beckett got there, things sucked in the room, as there were now 5 people in a 2 person room, with Satch and Hack in the bed, Rob in the chair, Beckett on the floor , and me on what seemed to be a combination of a footrest and a futon. Satch spent an entire night hugging the toilet, we chucked all the leftover marinara sauce from our mozzarella sticks at Hack as he was taking a shower. Of course, the TS cleaning ladies had 6 joyful days of cleaning our room (the Evan Williams smell never came out). Beckett managed to be rather good at the craps tables as he was there long enough for me to double fist two rootbeer & vodkas and refill them while I watched him. Of course it’s supposed to be illegal to just waltz around with an open beer in your hand but there I was just drinking away right out on the casino floor. After he finally got beat at craps, he went over to the slots where he managed to somehow win 50 bucks. Drunk Rob & Drunk Satch then made the best move of all-time by hitting max bet three times in a row and losing all 50 dollars in less than 30 seconds.

The last two days, Rob and Beckett drove home, Rob crying on the phone because he lost so much money he almost didn’t have enough to pay the tolls. Satch and Hack cashed out and then got the final hotel bill, where we found out that we managed to spend over $1,400 in room service over 6 days. We dropped Hack off at the airport and drove back to NH.

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The Altima, Part Three: The T-Bone

October 21, 2011 Leave a comment

As the end of August 2008 approached, it was time to head back to Delhi for what was supposed to be my 2nd and final year to complete my Associate’s. Around the last week or so, my only pair of sandals broke, leaving me with no “shower shoes” for the dreaded college showers. I made it my point to attempt to pick up a pair on the way to school. That Sunday, I stopped in Oneonta, the only form of retail stores within an hour’s drive of the school. Looking to pick up a pair of good Adidas’, I stopped at JC Penney’s only to find out they had none. My last resort was to head to Walmart across the mall parking lot. between the two stores there is an access road that runs next to a Burger King and into the road that goes into Walmart’s parking lot. As I pulled up to the stop sign, I saw a long line of cars coming out from the other way. Once again, like the windshield incident, I was in a hurry to go nowhere since I would be unpacking for two hours anyway. Seeing an opening, I floored it to make it across the two lanes. I looked again to the right as I went, just to see some African guy paying way too much attention to the inside of his car/on his cell phone. He decides to look up while less than 100 feet away from me, still with plenty of time to hit the brakes at only 20 or so mph. This required way too much coordination as he promptly slammed into the side of me which did nothing other than make a loud bang. After 40 minutes of waiting for a cop, finding out it was his sister’s car, and making sure his 1 year old little girl was fine, I really had no one to blame but myself. The worst part was at classes the next day when everyone thought that i stuck rims on a junker.

So basically for the rest of the school year, i had to drive around with this, the left front fender dinged in, anyone riding who couldnt open the right rear door, and the drivers seat back that Shiloh managed to rip out on the way to a Fisher Cats game. Not to mention the fact that due to being t-boned, the altima would be out of alignment the next 9 months. causing me to drive on bald tires all spring. On one trip up to Rochester, I hit a patch of rain that was bad enough on the tires, I started sliding bad enough to make me think one of my tires had gone flat. Having managed to fail two of my classes during the school year while compiling solid gpa’s of 1.26 and 1.29, I was forced to come back for a 5th semester with the Altima…

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Body Hair

October 21, 2011 Leave a comment

Before I get back to the tale of the Altima, this is a topic I’d like to cover first. It sucks, and I know firsthand how bad it is as a dude to grow it everywhere. However, there’s one thing that drives me nuts. Every morning out here, I get up around 530-540 to get ready to go on shift. And every morning, at about the same time I’m shaving/brushing my teeth, this fat guy who works for the State Department comes waddling/limping around the corner from the showers. It would be one thing if the guy was dressed, but he always decides to shave/brush his teeth with shorts and no shirt on. Its one thing to be fat, and its one thing to have a good amount of body hair, but when you mix the two, its a recipe for disaster. I have to look in the mirror to shave, and this guy always decides to take the sink directly behind me. Its already hard enough trying to get the hairs on the corner of my face, but when I have to do it with a view of this guy’s afro hair back looking back at me, I almost lose it. I guess what it is, is apparently this guy is just proud of looking like a gorilla. Its like that one summer after high school when Chan was so proud of his 10 chest hairs, that he played every sport with no shirt on, I guess in an attempt to move his chances with Katie Boivin out of the friend zone. But like Adam Brammer and drinking beer at a college party, that was never gonna happen. This guy apparently just comes in thinking 7’s wherever he goes. Like  escorting Afghans through my office while eating food as if he’s Starvin Marvin. I guess as one of my coworkers said, when you work for a government agency like the State Department, I guess you don’t really give a fuck about anyone but yourself and your job.

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The Altima, Part Two

October 20, 2011 Leave a comment

As mentioned before, heading off to college was a big step for me, as i would be making a 300 mile drive 6 hours each time i went between there and home, which was going to be a brand new experience for me. Staying awake was a challenge for trips like these, but that’s what loud music and rest stops are for. I was somehow able to cram all of my shit from my room into the trunk and other three seats, basically limiting my abilties to use anything besides my side mirrors. I made the trip alright and for the first couple months of school, had no issues driving around the Delhi campus and around town. The first two major incidents with the Jarmobile occurred while coming home on two of my school breaks.

When Thanksgiving break started, I said “fuck Wednesday classes” and took off bright and early in order to be home by the afternoon. I drove about 7-8 mph over the speed limit as I usually do without any repercussions. As I approached the NY/VT border, things took a turn. As I reached the last town before the border, I got stuck behind a line of cars all going about 2 below the speed limit. as we rounded a corner, the car in front of me decided to be slow enough to leave a space in front of him big enough for a car to pull out then slow both of us down even more. As I was already in a big enough hurry to go nowhere, this pissed me off pretty good. As we hit the straightaway, I decided “fuck this guy” and pulled out to pass him. I flew by, pulled back in, then noticed the two cop cars (including a K-9 officer and his dog in the second car) sitting at the end of the straightaway. Somehow, before he even pulled out, I managed to pull  over to the side of the road, now pissing off the guy i just passed. As I had managed to stop on a bridge, i look in my mirror and see the cop frantically waving his arms. I pull maybe 3/4 of the way across, decide im not gonna worry about this guy and turn the car off. Guy comes to my window and the first cool thing he can say is “What the fuck is your problem?”.. after about 30 minutes of bullshit (including them searching my car, threatening to tow my car and put me in jail because i had insurance but not an updated card) they let me go with not one but three tickets which later came out to $515 in fines.

Four days before Christmas, I took off a few hours early on school break because there was a major storm coming to snow the town in. Getting across NY was rather brutal but cleared up going east through VT until i got back to I-91. About 80 or so minutes from home, I have a death grip on the wheel, still going 60 through driving snow while trying to pass a pack of cars. While following a guy in the passing lane, I suddenly hear a loud crack, like a bit of ice hitting the windshield. About 20 minutes later, I look up to see a good sized crack at the top. Already pissed off, i kept driving on. When i got to Woodsville, I had the option of taking 302, a 40 minute straight shot, back to Littleton. My grandmother had recently gotten in a car accident and i decided to take Route 135 to see her. not even a mile out of town, i hit the sharp, narrow right hand turn that carries the narrow part of the road along this section of the Connecticut River. Being “safe”, i TAP the brake heading into the corner. Big mistake. I try turning the wheel to no avail, which sends me straight into the guardrail. Had I gone any faster, I wouldve been through and down 20 or so feet through the ice into the water. Seeing as there was only fender damage, I decided not to risk any more chances and drove home instead (pointless, I know).

Lucky for me, I made it through the rest of the school year without any damage or accidents, and my plans were to replace the fender and headlight from the next summer’s work earnings. The rims from my previous post were purchased that summer, however, due to the fact that my hours were cut down to nothing, most of the profits i made were spent either on gas or travelling down to manchester for Fisher Cats games. I was hoping to replace the fender at some point during the next school year, since I had enough connections in NY to get a cheaper deal on the fender.

Then came the return trip for my 2nd year..

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