Tuesday, March 21, 2006
I keeps it real
So G-dubs is out. The run is over. Georgetown is still in. WHORE-ray for that!
Even king of the in-state discount George Mason has moved on.
If I have learned one thing thus far from the tournament, it's that the ref's we had sucked and I definitely hate Duke. Add a moustache to coach K, with his perfectly parted hair for 20 straight years and you might have people calling him Adolf.
Here last weekend on business and to enjoy the GW disappointment was the one and only John "I'm dating some one's daughter" Kirkman, pictured below playing himself.
After enough beer to drown a dragon was consumed (also enough to drown the pink dragon, aka Fossil, aka Vicky my last name starts with a "T" but Stern can't spell it), John, Seth and I went out to rip up London. John did most of the ripping, Seth and I sat back waiting to get arrested.
To demonstrate to the locals how out of it we were, we asked several people at a packed bar, all of whom were wearing rugby shirts from Ireland, what was going on? Each face I asked looked at us like "how far have you stuck your head up your own arse?" well APPARENTLY there was a massively important england vs ireland rugby match and for the first time in awhile, ireland won. english atheletics are failing at almost everything this year.
The night capped in usual fashion as we were asked to leave a strip club we found in Soho, so we headed out to dominate some excellent late night lamb kebabs.
Sunday marked the first decent day of weather since my arrival. I think it was up to 45 and the sun was illuminating my pale face and having zero effect on my skin.
Tuesday morning I arrived at work to find my team in panic. What was the diaster this time? It was over a question as to what was the borough of Hammersmith's standard car parking ratio for B-1 office. That sort of excitement reminds me of why I got into this business from the start.
So in attempt to drain the booze and horrendous food from my diet I have begun to walk to and from work (when it's not raining, when I get up in time and when I feel like it). It's about 2 miles in each direction, so I figure 4 miles a day should counter my diet and lifestyle at some level. The whole scenario reminds me of that Chappelle show skit "when keeping it real goes wrong." For example, when I walk to work in the morning, I'm wearing a suit, an overcoat and probably some gloves. Well anyone who knows me, has worked with me or isn't blind knows that mild excercise leads to not so mild perspiration. So as I'm trying to keep it real with the a little pre-work exercise, I arrive with a pitted-out shirt and damp forehead. Then I also get to endure comments like "look at the yank with his trainers on" which is usually announced by a bloated fat bird who clearly needs more walking and less squaking. If I keep it real and respond, it will most certainly go very wrong.
Hot picture of the week goes to the lovely (edit), seen below at a fancy dinner after church service but before her AA meeting. Jesus loves you.
Even king of the in-state discount George Mason has moved on.
If I have learned one thing thus far from the tournament, it's that the ref's we had sucked and I definitely hate Duke. Add a moustache to coach K, with his perfectly parted hair for 20 straight years and you might have people calling him Adolf.
Here last weekend on business and to enjoy the GW disappointment was the one and only John "I'm dating some one's daughter" Kirkman, pictured below playing himself.
After enough beer to drown a dragon was consumed (also enough to drown the pink dragon, aka Fossil, aka Vicky my last name starts with a "T" but Stern can't spell it), John, Seth and I went out to rip up London. John did most of the ripping, Seth and I sat back waiting to get arrested.
To demonstrate to the locals how out of it we were, we asked several people at a packed bar, all of whom were wearing rugby shirts from Ireland, what was going on? Each face I asked looked at us like "how far have you stuck your head up your own arse?" well APPARENTLY there was a massively important england vs ireland rugby match and for the first time in awhile, ireland won. english atheletics are failing at almost everything this year.
The night capped in usual fashion as we were asked to leave a strip club we found in Soho, so we headed out to dominate some excellent late night lamb kebabs.
Sunday marked the first decent day of weather since my arrival. I think it was up to 45 and the sun was illuminating my pale face and having zero effect on my skin.
Tuesday morning I arrived at work to find my team in panic. What was the diaster this time? It was over a question as to what was the borough of Hammersmith's standard car parking ratio for B-1 office. That sort of excitement reminds me of why I got into this business from the start.
So in attempt to drain the booze and horrendous food from my diet I have begun to walk to and from work (when it's not raining, when I get up in time and when I feel like it). It's about 2 miles in each direction, so I figure 4 miles a day should counter my diet and lifestyle at some level. The whole scenario reminds me of that Chappelle show skit "when keeping it real goes wrong." For example, when I walk to work in the morning, I'm wearing a suit, an overcoat and probably some gloves. Well anyone who knows me, has worked with me or isn't blind knows that mild excercise leads to not so mild perspiration. So as I'm trying to keep it real with the a little pre-work exercise, I arrive with a pitted-out shirt and damp forehead. Then I also get to endure comments like "look at the yank with his trainers on" which is usually announced by a bloated fat bird who clearly needs more walking and less squaking. If I keep it real and respond, it will most certainly go very wrong.
Hot picture of the week goes to the lovely (edit), seen below at a fancy dinner after church service but before her AA meeting. Jesus loves you.
