I'm Not A Cannibal

This probably isn't right to say but every single time I see this photo I think the feet look like candy. Perhaps some chewy, delicious, gummy feet.

In this Oct. 2006 photo provided by Baptist Hospital, a healthcare worker displays the feet of Amillia Sonja Taylor. Taylor was just 9.5 inches (24.13 centimeters) long and weighed less than 10 ounces (284 grams) when she was born Oct. 24. She was delivered after just under 22 weeks of pregnancy; full-term births come after 37 to 40 weeks. Parents of Amillia got to take her home Wednesday, Feb. 21, 2007, for the first time since she was delivered last fall. (AP Photo/Baptist Hospital)

NYC --> CL

Friday night was a drunken night indeed. Friend and co-worker Alberto is off to Cleveland, OH to continue working (as opposed to me who is opting for something new or unemployment). In celebration of this move there was a big ol' drinkathon since that is what we do best. There were laughs, shots, special guests, hugs, drugs, nearly a fight and everything else you might want in a going away party. There was even a celebrity (not really with us, but who the hell is keeping track?). Peter Greene aka the guy who flicks the cigarette at Stephen Baldwin's face in The Usual Suspects and the guy who humps Ving Rhames in the pooper (who then has Ving get medieval on his ass with a pair of pliers and a blow torch) in Pulp Fiction. Celebrity!

So, good bye to Alberto. Here's my favorite photo of myself and Alberto. We're doing our "You're shocking and disappointing us to the point that we are going to kick your stupid ass" face:

Good luck, fool!

My End

Over the course of the last few weeks I've been exposed to a prophesy that has me thinking of doom. DOOM I said!!

I don't want to alarm you, but my days may be numbered. Well, I guess all of us could say the same, as dying is inevitable, but I think my days on this earth may be a bit shorter than I anticipated. Why? Dreams. Not even my dreams. This is actually dreams of two co-workers that predict my demise. One co-worker had two dreams about my death and then another just reported that she had a dream about my death too.

Normally I'm not a big believer of dreams predicting the future or anything like that, but when it happens and then happens and then happens again, it starts to infiltrate the ol' noggin a bit. Why people are having dreams about me at all is one thing, but dreams about my death is beyond my comprehension. But, it's not like I have any control over that. Also, it should be noted that the two dreamers are located in different offices and do not really communicate with each other so there was no chance of cross-fertilization of ideas. Anyway, here's the breakdown:

Dream #1 - Apparently this one was suicide or accidental suicide. I messed something up at work and was ultra upset about it (unlikely). As opposed to taking a day off or drowning my misery in booze I decided to actually drown myself. I jumped onto the ice on some frozen body of water, went through the ice and down into my icy water tomb.

Dream #2 - Some sort of horrible car crash. The dreamer isn't sure if I died or was just badly injured. Either way isn't particularly good.

Dream #3 - I was outside my old office and some guy comes up and shoots me in the face. Dead. I asked, and the dreamer said I definitely didn't instigate the shooter. It was just totally random. Also, the shooter was quick enough with the shot and escape that nobody could ID him. Avenge me!! Avennnnge Me!!!!!!!!!!!

So, that is all in the death dream department for now. If any of these events come true please see to it that the dreamers are held in some sort of mystical regard. Maybe they can go talk about it on Larry King or Geraldo or something. After all, I have always been a fan of Geraldo's crazy mustache.

Slayed

So the Slayer show last night was some kind of insanity. I guess I wouldn't expect anything less, but somehow when you get there the hugeness of the show and the excitement/obsession of the fans always manages to exceed the expectations. Slayer fans are some serious shit.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, I was going solo to the show but as luck would have it I wound up unsolo. I was waiting in the coat check line and look over and see Fran, a guy I know from college. 2,500 people there and I run into someone I know. He too was solo. Well fuck that. We were now a duo.

Coats checked, it was upstairs to browse the shirts and whatnot ($31 for a T-shirt, Slayer? Come on!) and then grab an obligatory drink. The drink turned into two before I knew what happened. Jagermeister and Coors both in plastic cups. What a team.

Fran and I head out onto the floor to enjoy the remaining tunes by Unearth and check out the scene. Once the Unearth ended the Slayer excitement really started to build. Chants of "Slay-er! Slay-er! Slay-er!" would start at random and Slayer reminiscing was running rampant. This show, that show, "awesome shirt, dude." We got in a conversation with two guys at one point who had been to see Slayer up in Poughkeepsie last weekend, were (obviously) seeing them in NYC this very night and then were heading down to DC to catch them on Monday night. Sick! Like Deadheads but with way less mellow and tie-dye and way more metal and black T-shirt.

Before we started talking to these guys, Fran and I were discussing how Slayer fans, despite being fucking lunatics, are a polite, friendly group as a whole. Sounds nuts, but it is true. I heard many more "excuse me" and "sorry" and shit like that during the pre-show crowd than at any other show I have been to. It's like everyone is part of a big, friendly, misunderstood, music-loving cult. As if to solidify our discussion about the niceties, as we wrapped up our chat and moved on to get closer to the stage, one of the multi-city Slayer fans we were speaking with says, "Hey, have fun guys. Be safe." Wha?

Fran and I move our asses up towards the stage. We get so we have only three or four people between us and the stage. The lights go down the crowd starts getting tight. Smushed is probably more accurate. Stage lights on and Slayer rips into "Disciple". Not 10 seconds in and I get elbowed right in the fucking eye. I can see the sort of night this will be. But again with the cultish love ... even during the frenzy of the show there is a constant helping people up who had fallen, blocking the crowd so you can tie your shoe and not get crushed, being courteous and giving a boost to someone who wants to crowd surf, etc. That said, I wound up with the previously mentioned elbow to the eye, the back of someone's head in my upper lip/teeth and a fist right in the bridge of the nose. No blood, no visible bruising (aka "badges of honor" as Fran likes to say).

So the show is nuts and possibly the loudest thing I have ever witnessed. Concert or otherwise. I had earplugs that have a noise reduction rating of 29 decibels and it was still LOUD at some points. It was crazy. Double bass drum, two guitars and bass pounding in rhythm. It would give you that feeling that your chest might cave in from the crushing noise. The hits rolled on -- "Raining Blood," "Die By The Sword," "South of Heaven"/"Silent Scream," "Mandatory Suicide," "Cult," "Seasons In The Abyss," Grammy winner "Eyes of The Insane," "Bloodline" ... fucking great.

I tried taking some photos via cell phone. It was a difficult task indeed. Not losing the phone was tough and even if a photo was taken it was usually a blurry mess. Here are the only ones even slightly worth posting. And I use slightly rather lightly:

Tom addressing the crowd

Kerry destroying 5,000 ears

This photo is pretty awful, but I liked the lighting and the blur:

This is getting longer than necessary, so I'll wrap it up I guess. A few additional notes:

• Some skanky, red leather-clad gal up on one of the side balconies flashed the crowd before the show. I felt like it was 1993 again.
• Somebody in the pit smelled like mothballs. I don't get it. Why? Do you store your classic Slayer T-shirt in mothballs so it will be fresh and moth free for each tour?
  
• Note to guys who are with their girlfriends (or whoever) that are trying to protect them. You are annoying. If they are deliberately throwing their five foot frames in the mix, they probably can hold their own. If they weren't into the thrashing, they'd be on the balcony or in the back.
  
• Hammerstein coat check ... you suck. A complete clusterfuck.
• Guys who like to crowd surf. You used to weigh 168 pounds back in the day. Now you weigh 226. Nobody wants that shit on their head.
• I saw a guy coming down for the balcony post-show that had two broken arms in slings. Pretty hardcore being out in public at a metal show when you can't even wipe your own ass.
  

One last thing. After the show (and the nightmare coat check) I go in to use the bathroom. On the wall, in six inch high letters was the word "Slayer" ... written in blood.

Sick!

Fostering What Is True And What Is Decent

Dear Catholic Church,

Here's something I thought you should know:

1. People are going to have sex, condoms or not. Your theories and statements are absurd.
2. Not everyone in this world is Catholic, therefore they don't follow your rules, suggestions or sexual restrictions.
3. There are some couples (hint: non traditional male/female couples) that (a) the Church won't recognize and (b) aren't allowed to marry even in non-religious settings, so your theory to abstain until marriage doesn't really fit

Please remove your heads from your antiquated asses.

Sincerely,
WJR

PS This opinion has nothing to do with my witnessing of Slayer last night.

Showbound

Tuesday night I went on a solo journey to see MC Chris at Mercury Lounge. That guy is some funny shit. Sort of a mix of Pee-Wee Herman and well I don't know ... um, ODB? Probably not, but definitely Pee-Wee. Anyway, on his MySpace page under the "Sounds Like" section he has "Sounds Like a smurf having an orgasm" I think that just about sums it up. So the show was good. Funny, full of crowd participation, and lots of rhyming. Here's a photo of MC Chris I took (note the "ATHF is the bomb!" T-shirt): click. I know, I know. A shitty photo. What else is new?

Yesterday was the big V-Day. Nothing exciting to report there. The wife and I are pretty fed up with dealing with the formalities of the day so we did our best to make as if it wasn't even happening. Again, what else is new?

Tonight ... actually just an hour or so from now I'll be going on another solo mission, but this time to see Slayer with openers Unearth. It should be retarded. Not many old school metal bands continue to stand, but Slayer keeps on going. When bands like that come around the old school metal heads (the guys who you were afraid of in high school) come out of hiding. Leather jackets, ripped jeans, Camels, gnarly mustaches and a lot of throwing up the horns. It should be great. Even if I didn't like Slayer's music (which I do), they always bring out a crowd that is worth the cost of admission. Alright, I gotta go get my back ready for the show ...

Hand It Over

The first weekend in March some friends and I are participating in the Vertical Challenge at Greek Peak up in Cortland, NY. It's 24 hours of skiing/snowboarding to benefit the American Cancer Society. 24 hours of up and down the mountain should make for a lot of falls, a lot of laughs, maybe some crying and definitely some sore legs, but hopefully in the end it will also help fight cancer.

If you would like to donate some of your hard earned money to Team Porkoholics it would be much appreciated and you can do that good deed here. (our team page is a work in progress so get off my back). You smokers should definitely think about this as it's your nasty, black lungs I'm trying to save.

Thanks everybody!

Oh! Also, we may still have some room on Team Porkoholics if you are interested. If you have the urge to join such an elite group, please contact me. If you are qualified and you can pass the stringent Porkoholic's review board, you are in!

24 hours of skiing/snowboarding -- American Cancer Society Vertical Challenge

Greek Peak Mountain Resort

March 3-4, 2007

Liquid Heat

So I was walking around for a good chunk of time the other day, generally freezing my ass off and got the craving for something warm. Coffee? Hells no. I'm not a coffee drinker. I don't like it. I don't even like coffee flavored ice cream. Tea? Eh, I can make that at home and by the time I get there I'll be warmed by a little something called heat so the moment will have passed.

I spy a Dunkin Donuts and due to being choked to death by advertising I think, "Yes. White Hot Chocolate. I'll try that." Let me tell you how delicious. It tastes like vanilla frosting. Vanilla frosting that not only rots your teeth and makes you fat like regular frosting, but also warms your innards too. Scrape the frosting off a birthday cake, heat it up and put it into a cup. Fucking good ... at least to my juvenile taste buds.

It seems to be far from good for your health, so if you get one, make sure you have burning off calories and intend to continue to do so or you'll look like "Weird Al" Yankovic in the "Fat" video before you even finish the cup.

And on a side note, shouldn't they call it Hot White Chocolate instead of White Hot Chocolate? I feel like White Hot Chocolate could be regular hot chocolate that is just so fucking hot it is beyond hot. "Shit, this hot chocolate is beyond hot. It's white hot!" Just a thought.

No More Awards For Me

When will I learn to just not even try to watch award shows?

I find myself much more of a music person than I am a movie person or television person, so I don't really get surprised when I can't deal with the Oscars, and I am smart enough to know I want nothing to do with Emmys, but I've tried watching the Grammy Awards tonight ... it sucks balls! Every year I have to realize this all over again. Well, I have once again have realized it and I will not do it again. This was it. What a waste of time. P fucking U.

Another Round

Alright. I'm back.

After focusing on some soul searching, therapy, socializing, exercising, job hunting, cursing (even more than usual), sleeping, and other such activities, I guess I will give this blogging business another try.

Thanks for the support, sass and threats from the handful of you who actually read this garbage. I just hope I can now live up to whatever expectations you may have. Such a buildup for the return and all you get is my blah, blah, blah. Well, I guess you get what you pay for, cheapasses.