The Upsell

Hello dear readers (if there are any of you left out there),

I stopped posting awhile back because I found out my mom was reading this blog. Not that it's a private blog or I reveal any deep dark secrets, I just didn't like her talking about my gas problems or knowing about some things when I had previously just assumed that she was very far (my father Herb as well) from the blogosphere realm. Well not sure what I will do going forward but recently had a blogworthy event I thought I'd write about (+ I am on a 4.5 hour bus ride back from NYC this weekend too).

I used to have two frogs that a friend bought me (I named them Ace and Gary because they were both male and seemed to cling to each other about as much as their gay Saturday Night cartoon counterparts). After Ace or Gary died, not really sure which one was which, I thought it was kind of sad that the other didn't have a friend. So I called my local pet store and inquired about getting an African dwarf frog (see above picture) and the pet store dude inquired about my current tank - which truth-be-told is a tiny little square of a tank with just enough room for a little bamboo plant, snale, some rocks, and the frog (it's a self sustaining tank). After telling me these little tanks were just gimmicks and I needed to give more space he said he could help me out. Upon arrival at the pet store with Ace (or Gary) I asked to see the African dwarf frogs and the same guy from the phone told me he wouldn't sell me another frog in my little tank and I kept explaining that I didn't want to buy a bigger tank and the pet store guy continually telling me to look at the sad little face and meek legs of my current frog I told him to just show me the damn frog. He finally showed me his albino frog (see other pic.) which is about 4 times the size of mine. I asked if they would be ok together and he replied, "no this one would eat that one." So in the end he never even had a frog he could sell me and was just trying to get me to buy a new tank. It turns out one bigger and cheaper option was only about $10 (and he threw in the gravel at 50% off) but I was so annoyed by the experience I told him that I didn't care if my frog was comfortable and stormed off with Ace (or Gary) never to enter this store again. He told me he thought the frog would be dead in a few weeks but that is something a deceitful and spiteful pet shop owner would say to a customer, who wasn't in the end, actually a customer so we'll see who wins this round later. For now, I think Gary (or Ace) is happy to know that I tried and seems pretty fine with the home he's had for a year and counting.

Confessions of a gaseous man

So I have this problem - I pass a lot of wind. One problem specifically is at work, I pass gas when no one's around, but then my boss comes by as it lingers and it's really embarrassing. It's incredible too that this mostly only happens when she comes around (and it's a she so that makes things worse) and it's almost as if she times the once or twice a day when she comes over to my desk for when it stinks, and I mean it really stinks. She doesn't say anything but I know that she knows and that probably she know's that I know which is even worse since normally she just leaves as soon as possible after arrival with no comment and cutting her agenda short. I think I have a few options to remedy this situation and would like your opinion on this debacle:

1. Take beeno

2. Change my style so as to avoid the "time bomb" and make it somehow more instantaneous

3. Excuse myself and publicly acknowledge it

4. Walk the 30-40 ft. from my desk to the bathroom

I don't know if man has yet to find a solution to this but it truly is awful

Nudity: Not always a good thing

Yesterday a very large girl with a very large butt mooned me in Newport. It was not a pretty sight. She even asked beforehand, along with my two friends, whether it would be ok, to which we replied quite simply, "no," and she went ahead and did it anyways. I mean did she think we would enjoy this? It made me think that there's this perception that nudity is always a good thing and everything naked is more fun, and well I do believe there's some truth to that, this was a stretch (yes I know there's a double entendre there).

Speaking of girls (and not mooning) Danilo, my roommate in Jamaica Plain, said a great quote tonight. We were talking about how we really needed to start composting and he commented: "yeah, girls here love composting." After laughing about it for a bit we sort of thought it could be true. "They would be so impressed and we would be drawing them all in" he commented. While we were at it we could start using rain barrels and vermaculture - all very interesting ideas I suppose. It also made me realize how Jamaica Plain has changed me and how I would never have thought like this in the past.

I do wish I could write about girls more (since that's where most of the good stories are anyways right) but in the wishes of not defaming anyways I refrain in this blog. Suffice it to say that if I did I would probably embarrass myself more than anyone else.

If this song said "Andy" instead of "Dandi" it would be my theme song:

http://s0.ilike.com/play#Nortec+Collective:Dandy+Del+Sur:453729:s27492597.9571032.7360331.0.2.17%2Cstd_41e09a8dcfdf49e582f7434e308991bf

(does it bother anyone else that this stupid "Ilike" thing only lets you place the song once. We can obviously search around on the internet and find it somewhere -pandora, youtube, grooveshark, last fm, vimeo, the options are limitless these days. They can't stop us! oh wait, shoot, I don't want to tempt fate - I take it back)

Polo & Guatemala

So I’ve been wondering what to write about my trip to Guatemala for about a month and polo came to mind. I’ve got a very open mind and am usually up for anything but one thing that blew my mind was attending a polo match in Guatemala – I’ve been on a Cameroonian radio show, attended a Monster Truck Jam, visited a sex museum, and swam in a bio-luminiscient bay, to name a few more eccentric things I’ve done as far as attractions and events. What made this recent experience more shocking was the fact that I had just been living in areas that hardly had roads let alone horses. “Boston?” one of the indigenous farmers had remarked when I told him where I lived. “Massachusetts?” I tried next, and still no reaction. I finally explained I was from the Northeast, U.S. At the polo match, quite a different venue with a very different crowd, it therefore should not have been a surprise when after answering the same question and telling the person “Boston – It’s in the Northeast U.S., Massachusetts” they replied, “yeah no shit.” (in English too).

The match was in Guatemala City with my friend’s former boarding school friend who came to the States for a decade or so before returning home to help run his family’s business. This man is one of the elite of the country; he was actually the president of the polo club. So he made sure we were well taken care of. Before seeing this though I have to admit I had never even thought people really played the sport, certainly not in the U.S.

Apparently you need at least six horses (which cost about $250 each to feed a month) –one for each period of the match, membership to a club (also usually pricey), a lot of $ to maintain the beautifully grassy playing field, and the money to pay for international refs. to fly in ($2000 a game maybe) and if you really want to win, you can bring in up to two players a team of higher ranking, who for a nice fee, will join your team for the match. As you can tell, it’s not the easiest sport in the world to join. What’s crazy is how interesting it is to watch and how powerful the horses are. It’s actually a really violent experience and people getting trampled are not uncommon. But it’s less about the game then the prestige of being there, hanging out with other wealthy and influential people, and honoring your family’s tradition of running the local polo club.

Our team ended up losing but it didn’t matter, we ate the best food there that we ate the whole trip (it was catered by a five star Guatemala City steakhouse) and met some powerful and racist Guatemalan’s who skin was sometimes lighter than that of my own (and my Jewish friend who traveled around with me). We were also constantly given more alcohol resulting in some contentious debates about Guatemalan history with some of the polo crowd lackeys. I highly recommend Guatemala as a place to travel internationally with beautiful sights, an interesting and colorful history, and an amazing disparity between the wealthy elite who play polo every now and then, and the poor who have no electricity or running water.

Quarter Life Crisis - It's not time to panic...yet

Today I turn 25. This seems like a monumental achievement in some ways. On the other hand, I about the same age as NBA legend Lebron James and Mozart had been composing incredible symphonies for his last 20 years at this point in his life. But I'm not Mozart and I'm not Lebron James, or am I? No I suppose I'm not, so I don't need to panic. But birthday's are strange things. I really don't want people to know because as soon as they find out they start telling other people and those are probably people you don't care about and then you just have a bunch of people wishing you something and making you feel like most of the people you know are not really people you will know in 5 or 10 years and you have very few close friends. I feel ok writing it here on this blog since no one really reads it, except perhaps a few close friends. It is fitting that my friend Sean, who's blog I also read avidly, wrote to me to a few days ago:

"You know what scares me even more, rationalizing this irrational existence." (in reference to finding a job, what to do with his life, and playing the game of sending your resume in, trying to look impressive, etc.) - see http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http://www.eyeweekly.com/article/55882&h=19117 for a great piece on quarterlife crisies

Ok sorry for the depressing note there, 25 years, big thing, big news, go me

-here's to the next 25!

Mental Block in Guatemala

Greetings from Guatemala, well actually Honduras for the moment. I´ve crossed the boarder to check out some ruins here in the infamous Copan, ok maybe not imfamous but something along those lines.

After visiting some coffee farmers last week with Equal Exchange I´ve gotten away for a week to explore Guatemala some. I´m pretty excited to be here. The weather is beautiful and all is well.

I got a fish the other day at a restaurant and they brought the whole thing out so when I got to the end I asked the waiter if normal people ate that there and he said, ¨if you want to.¨ Which definitely wasn´t clear enough for me so when I forced the issue he told me that some Guatemalans did eat it, including the eye, but most gringos did not. Since I wanted to be stronger than most Gringos I decided to take a stab at it...I mean literally, but when I did it´s mouth opened and I just couldn´t do it. I just kept staring at it and I couldnt get over how discusting it was to eat a fish´s brain so I gave up and submitted to my mental block.
sad, maybe next time I´ll have more courage, although I still don´t know about the eye.

One other thing is that I got electrocuted in the shower the other day since they don´t have much warm water here and it was an electrical head which heats it and I mistakenly hit and caused a terrible electrical chock that passed through my arm to my entire body. I guess it´s part of the adventure but I´m just saying, appreciate what you got with your warm water no electrocution showers up in the Global North

Skiing like and old man.

Once again returned from soccer in poor condition. I don't know if it's because I'm small, fall down a lot on this damn Astroturf, am getting old much too fast, or if I just actually suck at soccer but I can't seem to escape without damaging myself. The worse is that we have lost every game I've played (our record is something like 0-4) and I've been on a number of losing teams in my life and can't help but wonder if it's me, the team, or both? What a crummy thing being a loser, especially after losing to a bunch of old men in doubles (see Sportmen's Tennis Club) and having to drive to Weston, MA for it too. I guess it's better than sitting around and the alternative of going to a gym or running regularly sounds terrible.

Lot's of questions, not a lot of answers. Another possibility is that I have pre-maturely aged and my back is giving out and I should not be skiing, playing tennis, and soccer all in one week. Stretching might also help, but who wants to do that? Speaking of skiing, I went up to Loon Mountain in New Hampshire this weekend and had a pretty good time. Loon is something between Bolton Valley and Sugar Bush or Stowe in VT. The funny thing with skiing is at least half of it seems to be the adventure off the mountain and the culture of the mountain. There's so many funny personalities there (think Southpark ">"Asspen" not to mention the "ski bunnies (see above*)" Everyone is there to have fun which I love too -although the head phones thing is something, beyond the safety aspect which you can debate, I'm not quite sure I like (even though I've done it myself, especially if you are skiing alone). But it seems stupid that we spend like $70 for a day and spend an hour sitting at a table buying ridiculously expensive fried food for lunch and then quitting often before the end of the day. Then you go home and you talk about skiing and talking about skiing and the "freshies" and all is another cultural phenom in it of itself. Given the price, the distance to drive, the lines, and all sometimes I think we are convincing ourselves that it's better than it is. Furthermore, taking off your boots and grabbing a beer at the end of the day really is the best part which seems counter-intuitive. Maybe I don't even like skiing, no wait that can't be true, I just don't have the balls I used to and don't try anything that exciting anymore (actually I probably never did but just think I did - like when you get 8 inches of air and think you got 4 ft). It reminds of college and being on the diving team where the best part of practice was being done and sitting in the hot tub...probably a bad sign that you shouldn't be doing something if that's the case.

We did have some adventures before and on the mountain. After almost losing my ski bag off the top of my friends pick-up because I forgot to tie it down and it nearly fell off while we sped down the highway at 70 miles an hour (it was like 7:00 am) we made it to the mountain only to falter once again when my friend took out a little kid at the top of the mountain moving about 3 miles an hour and just not seeing him. It's really hard not too laugh when things like this happen even know you're not supposed to. I then crashed into a tree trying to wedge my way into one of those quick woods offshoots that comes back to the trail a little too quick. I'm sure it was fun not being me and hearing me scream at the last minute.

Anyways, that's it for now. I am taking off for Guatemala for work in two weeks to visit some coffee farmers and I am pretty psyched about that, one might even say stoked. I'll report more soon, sorry for this lame post and thank to you anyone who's actually reading this.

*Disclaimer: Picture of ski bunny may or may not actually be a real girl that I saw but in any case there's something really hot about athletic girls who can ski and look good with all those clothes on.

Sports, Love &/in Minnesota, & More

Playing in the Boston Ski & Sports or BSSC as people say has been fun but a big step up from previous recreation. We play on a real indoor soccer field with a real scoreboard, ref, uniforms, and the whole 9 yards. As you could imagine, some people take this much too seriously and as I sit in pain writing this post I can't help but wonder why the goalie last night thought it was necessary to check me into the board as I felt several bones snap - ok not really, but I did have trouble moving today. The worst though is getting knocked over from some these woman who must be on steroids or something. I mean what are you supposed to - knock them back over?

Speaking of moving, this past weekend I went to the Milky Way in Jamaica Plain which moved last year to basically my back yard, which I was pretty psyched about. There aren't a whole lot of places to go out in JP, definitely not the best place to move if you are looking for good night life in Boston. There are even fewer places to dance but The Milky Way is one of them and on Saturday night they had some great DJ's and some spinning lights on the dance floor. Only problem - no one dancing. There were people there for sure, although everyone seems to be about 5-10 years older than me on average, and they stood around the dance floor just talking. And if you can't get people to dance to good music on a Saturday night I don't know what you can do. My strategy was to get on the floor even if with the 3 other people (2 of whom were men) and pull some good moves - this did not help. Everyone continued not dancing while I made a fool of myself.

Lastly, I am taking off to Minnesota this weekend after a bizarre series of events. I was facebooked by a girl I have not spoken to since freshman year of college (who I was never particularly close with) who said she wanted to buy me a ticket to my former roommate and good friend's surprise birthday. Wait, hold on a second, were the strings attached? None apparently she said. Oh she must be rich? Probably not as she does Teach for America. So I decided to go with it and take a chance since free trips are always sweet and I want to see my friend. We'll see how it goes and hopefully this isn't some grand hoax where I have to pop out of a birth cake somewhere naked or something- but apparently this girl and my friend are pseudo dating long-distance which I didn't hear about from him and seems rather odd. Although not that odd considering my other roommate from college was dumped shortly after a 3 year relationship ended just after graduation when he found while travelling in Israel that it was for a woman that she'd been cheating with for almost a year and she was now a lesbian! So much for their plan to move to Hawaii together. Or take my friend who studied abroad in Ghana and met a military man there that's more than twice her age (mid-forties) with 2 daughters just younger than us, and became friends only to later fall in love after graduation after he moved to Japan and then she moved there too to get married. The latest I hear is they are planning on making some children of their own in New Orleans where they now live.

If all goes well I should be dating a trannie soon on the streets of St. Paul that comes back to Boston only to find out that it's my boss' mother who is pregnant with 3 children, and needs me to travel to Zanzibar to find the father whose whereabouts are unknown.

The Herb Files (part III)

It's been awhile since I wrote anything about my dad Herb and going back to Vermont this past weekend made me remember some things. The funny thing is that to me his "eccentricities" are probably pretty prevalent amongst fathers in the baby boomer generation but as an economist and being around college students you would think he would be a little bit more hip at this point.

The first thing is a mis perception about price. Perfect example was me getting some very nice new Patagonia shoes for $60 and upon bringing them home he remarked, "I've never spent more than $25 on a pair of shoes in my life, that's outrageous." Now this obviously can't be true first of all and second of all he then proceeded to give $60 for gas money as I left to go back to Boston without any hesitation. So it's obviously not about cheapness it's just that every day there's probably a new item in his life, or I should say category of items, like shoes for instance, whose price seems unreasonable. Clothing in general really is the big category here but there are many others.

The second thing also has to do with inconsistencies - and that being in the field of technology. Herb does know a good deal about computers, Blue-Ray, and flat screen TV's but when it comes to checking his messages on his cell phone or sending a simple text message he is clueless. I can't figure out whether it's a lack of motivation and interest or really an ineptitude at figuring out the small buttons. It's not that I'm that embarrassed for him about this...but it was pretty amazing that when I came home talking to him while driving the other night he kept talking after I hung up. How do I know this? Because I pulled into the garage (in which he was standing and speaking into his cell phone), rolled down the window, hung up my phone, and while I proceeded to finish our conversation from a large and very noticeable car with him standing 5 ft. away from me, he continued for a few minutes to respond not looking at me and still speaking into his cell phone as if I weren't there.

Is there any way to bring these people into the new century?