The Random Ramblings of One K-Dubs

EDIT: This post took me almost 4 days to write.  Enjoy. 

This post has been a long time coming, and I know I haven't written here in over a week.  But, I had a good reason...

I made a long anticipated trip back down to DC before heading to Jen's beach house at Bethany Beach for July 4th weekend.  I didn't really even know if I'd be able to make it down with my current situation in limbo and all, but I somehow made my way down south for four-five days or so to unwind.

I needed this trip.  Bad.

So here's the story of my trip.  Enjoy.

Friday:

I've never been one of those people who have fallen into the clutches of Starbucks and their robbing of poor consumers who just merely want some caffeine to start their day.  But, I definitely made the mistake of leaving myself too much time to catch the 10:45am bus from Madison Square Garden. Two hours too much, in fact.  So with two hours to kill, I scouted for any place I could find where I could sit around, read a paper, and spend two hours without causing much of a ruckus.  Starbucks it was.  I read the entire New York Times front to back, and actually felt extremely knowledgeable about the world for once.  It was almost therapeutic, sitting there with my paper and iced coffee while listening to some tunes on my iPod and watching New York City alive and well in the early morning hours of the day.  Let me tell you, Washington DC has nothing on NYC in terms of vibes, and it never will.  I finally boarded the bus around 11, and got into DC around 4.  The bus ride sucked.  The bus driver definitely yelled at me for not having a signature on my bus ticket and made a scene.  I decided to one-up her with some wise remarks, and that got a bunch of people looking my way.  We might be in NYC, but don't fuck with me.

I met Jen up at the NIH Metro stop, and she picked me up in style; in what she likes to call her dad's mid-life crisis.  Second time ever in my life I've ever ridden in a Beamer, and it was nice, to say the least.  I spent the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons on Nick Jr. with Jen's 8-year old brother Brendan while Jen finished up packing, and it was a blast.  I remember first meeting Brendan when he was 4 years old.  And the last time I was over the Clarks', he attacked me with a ink stamp.  Now, he wanted to watch cartoons with me and explain to me the super powers of Martin Mystery's gadget watch.  I hope he's into sports by the next time I see him in 4 more years.  He (along with all of Jen's other siblings) make me feel ridiculously old.  It crazy to see how kids progress over a 4 year span.  I wonder if people see the same progression in me.  Probably not.

A quick funny story: I was talking to Jen's mom about all the problems I've had recently with my Georgetown grad school app, and out of nowhere, Brendan asks me, "What does 'holla back' mean?"  I literally almost fell out of my chair laughing, but to avoid being rude, I tried keeping a straight face as best I could.  Absolutely hilarious.

After a little Goldeneye action with Jim and Sebastian at the Clarks', we headed out to the Metro to pick up Steve, before heading to Georgetown to pay a quick visit to Mark and Dave.  After a little pong, survivor flip cup and quarters we headed back to Jen's to crash for a few hours.  But not before some more pool and Mario Kart :).

Saturday:

To make a long story short: the drive to Bethany Beach sucked.  It took us over 5 hours to get there, and Delaware isn't exactly the most scenic place on Earth.  We stopped over at a little Italian place in Bridgeville, DE called Tony's Pizzeria.  I was pretty suspicious of the place, given the fact I'm pretty picky about my Italian food, but Tony's specialty cheesesteak was quite good.  I'd go there again to have it if I was ever in the area (the likelihood of that happening is about zero).

We had a lot of fun pissing off the locals on the drive in to Bethany by blasting obnoxious techno/old dance/Dance Dance Revolution music while being stuck in traffic (Delaware is notorious for one lane highways).  I wonder if the locals had ever heard Dragostin Din Tei or whatever that Romanian cock-rock electronic song is called.  Anyways...

After a long afternoon of traveling, basically the rest of the day was spent getting trashed at the beach house.  This place was gorgeous; this place was three floors and absolutely hooked up.  Enough beds for twelve.  Too bad we had more than that :).  No biggie.  The name of the game was just drink until you passed out somewhere.  Which is exactly what we did.  Aside from kicking Soisson's ass at three-man again, everything else was pretty much just your run-of-the-mill get drunk as hell kind of night.

Sunday:

Woke up and went to the beach.  The beach was nice; much nicer than your average beach in NJ, since it was clean (no snide remarks, please) and there weren't too many people there.  However, there weren't too many people our age there; Bethany tended to be more family oriented, with young parents and their small children making up a large proportion of the beach-goers where we happened to be.  It was a little colder than I'd prefer it to be, about 75-78, and the water was cold as hell.  But it was still a good time, and anytime you're on the beach during the summer, you really can't complain.

After an afternoon on the beach, we went down to the boardwalk for some lunch.  The boardwalk at Bethany paled in comparison to any other boardwalk I've been to.  It was maybe a tenth of a mile at best, and the places to eat were subpar and mad expensive.  The beaches right by the boardwalk were absolutely packed too; you couldn't really even see any of the beach since there were so many people there set up with their gear.  On a good note, the boardwalk fries were quality; Old Bay seasoning is just super clutch.  Brian ended up getting a 20 dollar fine for having one of his tires in the road where he parked.  The Bethany parking meter people suck.

We spent the remainder of the late afternoon and early evening watching Eurotrip on DVD and the Surreal Life marathon on TV while eating a light pasta dinner.  Nothing too extreme, just a lot of relaxing and doing nothing.  We had to recuperate for another night ahead of us.  Good thing we did.

Here's where our little adventure gets a little crazy.  Since everyone was already drunk and no one understandably wanted to DD to Ocean City (25 min drive by car), we decided to take a bus to Ocean City instead.  It seemed like a good idea, until we realized we had to walk along side Rt. 1 Coastal Highway in pitch black darkness for a mile and a half and wait along side a narrow winding road beneath a bridge next to an Indian reservation for the bus.  It's pretty hard to describe what it was like, but just imagine being with 15 other people and not being able to see any of them if you weren't less than 2 feet away from them.  It was kind of like that.  After finally getting to Ocean City, we took another shuttle down another 30 blocks to get to the bar we finally ended up at, called the Greene Turtle.

The Greene Turtle was this little tiny place which kind of looked like a pub.  It had one main bar, some tables where people could have meals, and a small area which turned into the dance floor.  The first thing that struck us was how many older people there were at the place.  Nothing is more disturbing than some drunk college aged looking guy freaking with a 50 year old lady.  It's just not right.  Anyways, all of us got more liquored up as expected, and the night proceeded.

Here's where the story might get a little suspicious (I know it might not sound believable), but it definitely happened and Vernon can vouch for me.  This random guy (probably around our age) comes up to me and asks me if I'm Korean.  I said no, and asked him why he wanted to know.  He proceeds to tell me that this one girl he came with has been checking me out since I walked through the door.  Just my luck.  I figured it was probably some hideous beast looking to satisfy her Asian fetish for the night.  He pointed her out to me, and lo and behold, this beautiful girl wearing this cut off white top and a mini-skirt.  He tells me she's been waiting for me to talk to her all night.  I told the guy I'd be right over after finishing my drink.

Here's where God decided to be cruel to me.  Again.

As soon as I make it over to the bar, and before I can even say anything, she takes the hand of one her girlfriends and bolts to the bathroom.  I'm stunned.  Her guy friend shrugs at me and says, "She's real shy."  I say, "Yeh, I figured that much."  Not wanting to seem like I'm stalking her or anything, I get my drinks and head back to the dance floor.  A few minutes later, I try again, and what do you know?  She leaves again, this time choosing to indulge in some shots offered to her by the club's owner (some shady 60 year old looking guy).  I decide to play it cool and shrug it off.  About a half hour later, I try again, and this time she makes eye contact with me and skips out the door.  Since I couldn't leave my friends behind, I stayed behind in the bar, wondering what the hell just happened.  I really honestly couldn't believe that this ridiculously attractive girl was too shy... to talk to me.  I mean, I've been shot down before, ignored, etc.  But a hot girl who's checking me out but too shy to talk to me?  Just unfair.

About the time we're about to leave (Brian decided he'd help drive everyone home since he met up with us late and drove), my flip-flop snapped.  Since I was drunk as hell, I was pissed off to no end, and seriously just flipped out in the middle of the parking lot.  I know it sounds dumb, but those pair of flip-flops have seen me through a lot.  And it sucks walking around some unknown town outside a bar barefoot.  So yes, I was really mad... too mad to notice Vernon was trying to wingman for me with the hot girl who had been checking me out (and decided to come back from across the street back outside the entrance of the Greene Turtle).  Too bad she A) didn't want to talk to him, B) didn't ask Vernon, who admittedly was not paying attention, to ask me to come over and talk to her, or C) came over to talk to me herself.  So she ended up leaving without me knowing until later, when it was too late.

Fuck.

After a lot more drinking back at the house, I found a passed out Steve on the large couch upstairs, with his head between his legs.  After deciding that the smaller couch was too short to lie down on comfortably, I decided to pick up Steve and move him to the smaller couch, so I could have the larger couch.  I figured I wasn't making him more uncomfortable.  I was right.

Monday:

Monday was a real indicator that we were all getting old.  After two days of solid drinking, we were all too burned out on the 4th to do any real solid damage to ourselves.  Which isn't saying that we didn't do anything; we grilled a feast at the beach house, and then spent another afternoon at the beach catching rays.  Very relaxing and laid-back, and I think we all needed it after destroying ourselves the two previous days.  Kerry arrived in the morning, and it was good to get a chance to see her too before leaving.  Looking back on it, it was definitely probably one of the bigger GU reunions I'll see in the upcoming future.

Later that night, we decided to forego the crab house (big mistake) and catch the fireworks right off of Bethany Beach.  I have to be honest and say that the fireworks were pretty weak.  Aside from the fact that it was a severely cloudy and foggy night (the fireworks would basically just change the colors of the cloud/fog), the show was just weak in general and lasted only a half hour at most.  So that was a major disappointment, but probably the only one all weekend... except the meal we were about to eat.

We then searched for a restaurant that was still open late (around 10pm) on the 4th.  Finally, we settled on Leo's Seafood Restaurant, somewhere in the outskirts of Ocean City.  Not good at all; the fried clams I got were decent, but not great.  And the roast beef sandwich I ordered was just terrible.  To top it off, there were a ton of weird pictures on the wall inside the restaurant.  I forget exactly what they showed, but I remember some of them being a little disturbing to look at.

After getting back to the beach house, I had a few decent battles with McEvoy in ping-pong (he won all the games, stupid American paddles) before retiring to a quiet night of Goldeneye. 

Tuesday: 

The return day of traveling.  Not much going on here, except that Cory almost killed us a few times on the way back from Bethany to DC, including once when he blatantly turned onto the wrong side of a road with a median.  Thankfully, there was no oncoming traffic (and impending death).  After a five-and-a-half hour drive back, me and Steve caught the DC bus back to NY with 5 minutes to spare.

Overall:

I'm real glad I got a chance to see everybody again, especially before we all become seriously busy (i.e. grad schools, jobs, etc.).   Thanks again especially to Jen for letting me crash at your place for a night, Cory for the rides, and everyone else for an awesome weekend.

 

One thing I haven't experienced much yet is the bar scene at Morristown.  I've been asked several times before to go out there for the night, and aside from one night of dinner and a few drinks with Brian at the Dublin Pub, I had yet to really enjoy the bars there. 

I decided to change that on Saturday night.

The first thing that struck me about the Morristown bar scene was that it was a LOT different from both the Wharton bars and the bars in DC.   The bars in DC were all just expensive as hell, and the atmospheres in most of them (i.e. Tombs, Rhinos, Thirds, etc.) were just a little too posh for my liking.  Wharton bars, like Canal House and another one we went to briefly but I forget the name of, are just a little too grungy and dirty for my liking.  Plus, there's always the chance that I'll see someone there that I don't particularly like, so that's another downer too.  In Morristown, you still have the thugs and small gangs that roam the streets along Speedwell Ave. and the drug dealers who inhabit the Green, but it's definitely a cross between DC and Wharton, in my opinion, which makes it a little more palatable for me.  No unwanted noticeable faces.  No 17 dollar pitchers of beer.  Just right.

So last night, Alex, Mark, Brian and I decided to head to the Famished Frog, one of the bars on South Street that Brian and Alex (two veterans of the Mo-town bar scene) had good things to say about.  Atmosphere was excellent; most of the people there were probably in their twenties, and everyone generally seemed to be having a good time.  There were no trust fund punks dressed in pink polos with their collars up, but there were also no drugged up homeless alcoholics at the place either.  The drinks, although not as cheap as quarter bottle nights at the Recher or dollar-fifty rail drinks at the Neon Cactus, were still well-sized and didn't break the bank.  My only complaint?  No shots served after twelve.  I don't have that big a problem with that, though.  I'd trade not being able to have shots after twelve for not being puked on by some idiot drunk later in the night.  I don't particularly like shooting, anyways.

So my first experience with Morristown bars turned out to be a positive one.  Got to welcome back Mark to the Garden State, as we need to get rid of the brainwashing he's received from those rednecks in Northern Florida the past four years.  My only regret is that we didn't get to hang out with Kei one last time before he moved out to the San Francisco area for good.  It's OK though; I have faith in our keeping in touch (moreso than a lot of people who have been ignoring me since the end of May <--- there, I said it).

One last note of importance.  The Morristown Diner, which I had also never been to until last night, was terrific.  No kind of late night drunken munchies can touch a New Jersey diner.  Period. 

 

 

I got a call this morning from one of the people at the graduate admissions office at Georgetown, a woman who I had spoken to about two weeks ago, and the same lady who told me nearly 2 months after I submitted my application that it wasn't valid because it was in paper form and not submitted online (a claim that was actually refuted by one of her co-workers later that day).  So I expected nothing but bad news.

I was sort of right.

This time, the lady claimed that they did not receive my grades for the spring 2005 semester.  My first reaction was,  "Oh my god, they fucked up again.  Unbelievable."  But, I gathered myself and quickly explained that I had instructed the Georgetown undergraduate registrar to submit two copies of my transcript, including one copy well after spring grades had been submitted by professors.  She asked me to fax over another copy of my grades, and I responded by reminding her it would not be an official copy; it would just be the copy I was allowed to view online at Student Access.  She then realized that she had access to my account (and grades) too, and then said she wouldn't need me to fax them after all (since she could easily look them up herself... is that lazy or what?).  I told her that I could make her life easier by just reading off the grades to her over the phone, and she agreed that'd be a good idea.  So I did just that.

My question is, how can they just NOW realize they don't have my spring 2005 grades?  It's the middle of July; my application has been sitting in their office for two months, and in the midst of all the problems with my application (lost in mail, lost in office, invalid paper application, etc.), they never once thought to check my grades to see if they were all there?  And if they weren't, they HAD to know they had access to them, since I was an undergraduate there.  Didn't they ever think to call the registrar across campus?  I just don't understand how these people can be so incompetent.  In the event I am eventually accepted (at this rate, I'll hear back NEXT summer), can I really trust these same people to forward my post-bac masters program grades to the med schools I'll be applying to?  It seems like they've been having a lot of organizational problems within their office, and it really has me worried whether or not the program will be worthwhile even if I do get accepted.

So the waiting continues.  I really hope the next phone call or e-mail I get will finally be a decision, and not another notice of some other missing file or what-have-you.  I've waited too damn long for this.

The first IM I got after I woke up yesterday morning was from the Captain.

Eric: Don't lift today.  We're going bowling tonight.  Consider this ample warning.

So fine, I thought.  I'll mess up a routine I had going for a little while just so I could go bowl.  Why not?  Haven't played for at least a year.  And everytime I go, I get destroyed because I'm easily the worst player among all my friends.

What a good call that was.

This was the first time we went to Rockaway Lanes for their Monday night special: unlimited bowling from 10pm-1am for $8.  I hadn't been to Rockaway Lanes for years, simply because Dover Lanes had all their ridiculous specials ($5 cover and quarter games, $1 games, etc.) and we'd always go there.  But without a doubt, Rockaway Lanes is by far the nicer bowling alley.  So it was a little different to go to a bowling alley that was well lit, not filled with cigarette smoke, had bowling balls that weren't chipped, and had lanes that were oiled properly.

More importantly, this was also the first time that we got undoubtably drunk at the lanes.  In the past, we might have a drink or two, but not enough to get past the buzzed stage.  We knew it was a bad omen when  the bartender at the lanes recognized Eric and remembered him when he was a wee lad.  Now THAT'S a community, people.

Anyways, to keep this short and simple.  We played 7 games, and by the end, my arm was about to fall off.  Alex won 4 games, and Eric won 3.  Being the only amateur there who didn't bring his own custom ball and accompanying ball bag, I somehow still rolled respectably for my own standards.  I'm not a good bowler at all by any means, and I'd say I usually average around a 110.  But when I rolled my first game at 141, I knew I'd have an above average night (plus, beer gives me superpowers).  A game later, I rolled a 169 (a disappointing score only because I rolled two separate turkeys and left 4 open frames) for my second highest personal best.  I averaged around 130 for the night, which was great for me.  One highlight, Alex besting Eric in a duel by a 202-195 margin, when Eric choked in the final frame, failing to pick up a moderately easy spare which would have given him another throw to pick up 7 pins (easy for him).

We also happened to bowl next to John Guilfoyle and his brother that night at the lanes.   I hadn't seen either of them in years, and it was good to catch up with them.  He's still easily one of the nicest kids I've ever met in my life.  I go back with him all the way to tee-ball in kindergarten, and I remember when his brother broke his wrist (or was it his arm?) falling off a jungle gym near the baseball diamond where we played in Hibernia.  Crazy to think that was 17 years ago.

One last comment: smoked salmon cream cheese on a bagel is damn good.  And since the one I got came from Dunkin Donuts (not exactly an establishment reknowned for its bagels), I can only imagine what one would taste like from a better place.  Until next Monday...

I'm not embarrassed to admit it, but I haven't exactly unpacked since I've come home from school 6 weeks ago.  And there's been good reasons for it; I've traveled much more this summer than any previous summer for sure, and with two grad schools that still haven't given me an answer, I could very well be relocating again within a month.  Plus, the laziness factor also ties in here.

My parents didn't like that last part.

So last night, I began the painstaking task of cleaning up this room and making sure all the luggage and duffel bags I had in the room were gone.  It's not easy to unpack your college life into the room you spent your pre-collegiate years.  A lot of mix-and-matching and attempts to clear out new space for stuff you didn't have before.

But, over the course of cleaning, I did come across a lot of neat things that definitely brought back a lot of memories.  So I've put together a list of the top 10 things I've come across since I've started cleaning my room and unpacking.

10) An old poker stash with a bunch of money.  I won't disclose the exact amount, but let's just say my bankroll is healthier now than it was 24 hours ago.  Finding that stash was so Mike McDermott it wasn't even funny.

9) SAT Top 50 Word List from the Princeton Review.  I'll be the first to admit my vocab was probably a little rough around the edges even into my HS years, which had a lot to do with me sucking up the Verbal sections on the SATs.  While I'm still definitely not the most eloquent guy around, it's amazing to look back at that list and realize how I never learned what most of those words really meant until I got to Georgetown.

8) Boutiniere from prom night.  I really have no idea how this has survived for so long, considering it's made from a real flower, but it still hasn't fallen apart.  Considering it was given to me by still one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen with my own two eyes (and that includes after a week in Acapulco), I'm going to hold on to it until it disintegrates into nothing.  That's a promise.

7) Old NFL Pool sheets.  I don't even know how old these really are, but it's from the one of the later weeks of some 199x football pool Eric ran back in the day.  I remember winning the overall pool for the year, and whatever sum of money I ended up taking down was a lot back in those days (when we were all dirt poor and too young for serious employment).  

6) Kevin Braswell head on a stick.  They gave these out during senior day at the last home basketball game of the season our freshman year to honor Kevin Braswell, our esteemed point guard who cost us maybe 3-4 games that year by following Esherick's bonehead plays.  I remember we brought ours up to that year's Big East Tournament a week later.   It's still fun to be silly sometimes.

5) 1991 Topps Stadium Club Unopened Packs of Hockey Cards.  Yeah, I know it's completely worthless, given how hockey has gone through the shitter during the past year in this country, nobody collects sports cards anymore, and the overproduction boom of sports cards began in the late '80s, but it's still kind of cool to think I could bust open a pack of hockey cards and find a ton of Hall of Famers or future Hall of Famers in there that I grew up rooting for and against.

4) Aaron's "Auto-Retrato" CD.  Not nearly as good as the United Jumbo Band's first and only release from freshman year, but it reminded me of the crazy times during freshman year when we used to be groupies of UJB, following them around to whatever bar/club they played at in the DC area.  For all of you who followed bands like Moo Shoo Porkestra and Junction during the later years of our Georgetown days, don't forget that UJB preceded them all.  Ah, the rememberance of youth and innocence.  They were talented as shit, and it's a shame they never stayed together.

3) Bottle of Soju.  Given to me as an RDP gift, I still haven't drank from it, deciding instead to hold on to it as a memento.  My dad walked in while I was cleaning and asked what the hell I was drinking now.  When I explained to him it was kind of like Korean sake, he just laughed and walked away.  How things have changed.

2) Georgetown wallpaper.  I know this isn't exactly an object I found, per se, but it's still something I came across as I was rummaging across my computer.  Mark made this while he was bored during Christmas break freshman year, and it's really eerie to see how young we looked almost four years ago.  Those days were still the best, bar none.

1) 2001 Delbarton Varsity Tennis Schedule.  Because the newspapers always tended to slight our team with our record and stuff like that, I decided to keep a running count of our wins and losses that year, along with my own personal results.  We were definitely not the most talented team that year, but our improbable rise to win that year's state title is still probably one of my most cherished memories.  A true underdog's story.  How we were able to accomplish what we did, I will never understand.  As many state championships as Delbarton continues to pile up in tennis, I'd like to think our 2001 team had something to do with starting that dynasty.  We were there in the beginning.   

The two times that Joffre came down to DC in the spring were great times, especially the second visit (when we decided to bypass the Tombs).  My photo on this site is a great example of that.  So I was really eager to pay back the visit, and Arts Fest this weekend at PSU seemed like the perfect time to do it.

That plan hit a major roadblock yesterday.

Being how I was without a car this weekend, my trip was completely dependent on someone else driving.  And multiple problems ensued after the initial planning of the trip.  First, Ray was unable to commit to driving because he had to go to his uncle's birthday celebration up in Connecticut on Saturday.  After asking several others for possible rides, including even some GU heads, I came to the bitter conclusion that Arts Fest was just not to be this year.  However, I'm vowing to repay the visit at some point before J-Rat is out of there.

In the meantime, however, nothing really is new in my life.  Still waiting to hear from grad schools.  Still playing the Wednesday night live games at Club Rick.  Still playing the Thursday night alumni tennis sessions at Delbarton.  And still playing good amounts of Game Cube and rummy in between.  I guess one thing of interest was Alex somehow managing to finish with a mere 10 points last night in our rummy game (we go to 500).  That has to be an all-time low.

In an effort to give everyone an opportunity to laugh at my stupidity and misfortune, while I was doing laundry last night before I left the house, I accidentally knocked an entire box of fabric softener sheets (including the box) into the washing machine.  So you can pretty much guess what happened when the cycle finished and I opened the washing machine lid. Hundreds of fabric softener sheets and ripped shreds of the box it was in scattered everywhere around and on my clothes.  Not a pretty sight.

And since I haven't given you guys any music reviews as of late, here's one.  The new album from A Static Lullaby, "Faso Latido," isn't great, but isn't terrible.  A few good songs on it, but the album as a whole is uneven at best.  I don't know too many of you who are fans of screamo anyways, so unless you're curious, don't bother.

That's it for now.  Let's pray I have more eventful news soon. 

It's not that I've run out of things to write about, but we really did talk a lot about wings yesterday at the Johnson household, and a lot of interesting comments/opinions/etc. came up, so I thought I'd share them here and see what the peanut gallery thinks (although most readers probably have yet to comment on any of my post since my days here at Tabulas began).

First, we were having a debate on which place had the best wings.  It was agreed that Northern NJ, despite its delicate blend of ethnicities and subsequent wide variety of delicious foods, doesn't really have a defining place to get good wings.  Charlie Browns, despite how many free drinks Annie hooks us up with, doesn't have great wings (too small, not enough flavor, etc.)  Three places which we'd like to put to the test if we somehow could were: 1) B-Dubs, a national chain that Ray and Mark enjoyed a lot at Purdue and Florida State respectively, 2) Rhino's, the bar in DC which supplied dime wings for Monday Night Football during the fall, and 3) Buffalo Wing Factory, a Virginia-only based chain that boasts $12.99 all you can eat wings AND tenders on designated special nights.  I've never had B-Dubs, so I can't say with any certainty, but the best wings I've had ever were at Rhinos.  Most flavorful hot sauce and biggest wings, and for a dime each, you can't really beat it.

I'm all for a place that sells great tasting wings for a low price, so if you know of any, definitely let me know.

And on a sidenote, we ordered delivery from Domenico's last night.  Grilled chicken sub with fresh mozzarella, roasted peppers and balsamic vinegar.  Now that's a sub.  As much as our area sucks when it comes to wings, it's unbeatable when it comes to Italian food.  Visit me and taste the difference if you don't believe me.

I've been trying for the last week to 10 days or so to completely distance myself from the World Series of Poker Main Event, choosing to hopefully watch the taped telecast on ESPN later in August and be surprised.

That's been damn near impossible.

First, I play at a live cash game weekly on Wednesday nights here in Rockaway, and the buzz during the last session about the main event was impossible to ignore.  I couldn't help but listen to several people go on and on about chip leaders, big names still left in the tournament, big names knocked out early, etc.  Whether they were entirely accurate was doubtful, but with more than several rumors, it was definitely possible that a handful of them were indeed true.

Second, there was a poker tournament on TV shown live on one of the lesser known channels (was it Travel?) that featured a number of big names at the final table.  That's great, but if it's live and we're watching the players as they make their moves, that must mean that they were already eliminated from the WSOP main event.  Awesome.

Third, I view ESPN.com countless times during the day, checking up on news stories, reading columns, and what not.  I was probably naive to think this, but I didn't really believe they'd plaster the name of the winner and his large sum of winnings all over their front page.  Stupid me.  Well they did, and I saw it yesterday, so it's essentially all over for me in terms of being surprised when I watch it on TV next month.

But knowing me, I'll still watch it anyways.   

No, I'm not talking about the McGwire/Sosa summer of '98.  It's far more important than that.

I'm talking about my personal high score at bowling of 181.

I know, there will be mixed reactions to that last fact if you've seen me bowl in person before.  "How the hell does someone who sucks bowl a 181?", or "Wow, are you really that good?  I've never seen you break 100!"  The answer is that I'm not that good to begin with.  I won't complete embarrass myself at the lanes and throw gutter balls in every frame (ditch that spinning shit, Ray), but I won't go up there and throw 5-6 strikes in a row like it's nothing.  So I guess the best way to put it would be mediocre.

My personal high score at bowling was set years ago at someone backwater bowling alley in North Carolina, where every person at the alley besides myself, my sister, and my cousins Bert and Linda was either a biker dude/gal or a covert member of the KKK.  Not exactly inviting to a member of the Asian Persuasion.  But nevertheless, I remember bowling the game of my life, mixed in a few consecutive strikes here and there, and put up a 181, which at the time best my previous high by nearly 30 pins.

Fast forward to last night.

Rockaway Lanes, in an attempt to steal some business from Dover Lanes with some well-priced specials, had another special for Sunday Night, titled "The Buck Stops Here."  To summarize: $5 cover, $1 each for a game of bowling, shoe rental, slice of pizza, hot dog, fries, soda, or nip beer (really a waste, since it basically meant 7 oz. bottle of High Life).  So again we went to the Lanes to bowl with Eric's parents and some of their friends.

I didn't throw anything special the first 3 games I played, just the usual.  And by the time the 4th game started, I didn't feel anything different.  But I closed the first three frames with spares and I was putting together a good game.  My arm was starting to hurt (not a good idea to play tennis and lift twice before bowling), and my right forearm was killing me.  I didn't even know if I'd be able to finish the game.  After opening the 4th frame, it looked like I had wasted another opportunity to throw a great game.  My arm was throbbing, and it became increasingly harder to throw the ball.

Then I caught lightning in a bottle.

Somehow, despite leaving some nasty pin set ups that made for semi-difficult spares, I picked up spares in frames 5-6, topping 100 before the 7th frame.  I figured I was on my way to a pretty good game if I could keep it up, but there'd be no way with my arm hurting so bad.  I proceeded to throw THREE strikes in a row after that from frame 7-9!

Then came the 10th frame, and I was trying to avoid all of the talk going on behind me about what I'd need to finish with such and such a score and what not.  First ball nicks the head pin, but only knocks down seven pins.  A bunch of scores updated, and it's official: I've broken my high score with a 184.  I'm happy, but there's still a task at hand.  I muster all the strength I've got left in my right arm and throw a ball that starts off to the left, but thankfully tails back and picks up the spare.  So now I'm at 190, with one last shot in the 10th frame.

The highest possible score now became well-apparent.  Throw a strike, and my first ever 200 game of bowling will become a reality.

I was so focused on getting the game over with and giving my right arm a break that I wasn't nervous at all about the final throw.  And when I let it go from my fingers, I thought I had thrown a perfect ball (perfect for my standards).  It headed towards the head pin, crushed it, and pins behind it fell along with it.

In the aftermath, one pin did survive.  The 6 pin.  I missed 200 by a single pin.

I threw the rest of the night at the lanes lefty, and I probably looked like a half-witted jackass who couldn't bowl to save his life to the other people at the lanes.  But it's OK.  I'll take my new all-time personal best of 199.  I won't be on the PBA anytime soon.  But that's just fine by me.

After a long day of getting stuff done, I felt it was time to finally relax.  And while the Yankees-Rangers game was a slugfest, it really was a downer after the weekend series with the Red Sox.  Plus, drowning myself in hours after hours of TV is just not my thing to begin with.

So I headed back onto the computer for some online poker.

Being how I maxed out my Pokerstars account to play in the World Series of Poker earlier in June, I've been stuck playing on Party Poker for the last few weeks, and it sucks.  The site just appears bootleg; there are so many features that should be there that just aren't.  The community cards come out at warp speed, so a lot of times it's even difficult to realize how you've just won or lost the hand.  And the one single thing that really gets at me about Party Poker is how the site rewards the poor play of the vast majority of the people on the site.  More often than not, I'll see hands which are at least 75-80% favorites pre-flop go down to defeat.  It's certainly not random.  And what it ends up doing is allowing bad players to continue playing bad on the site in order to create more traffic on tables (and subsquently more rakes for the site).

Despite all this, I decided to play a 5 dollar rebuy tournament last night, just for kicks.  My tournament play has admittedly been a little rusty, and it showed in a live tournament I played a little over a week ago at Club Rick.  Rebuy tourneys are a whole different animal, though.  The idea is to build a chip stack quickly and by any means possible, even if it means going all in with mediocre hands and trying to outdraw your opponent.  All you're trying to do is double up 2 or 3 times, and then sit on the chips until the rebuy period is over.  I was able to do this, and after the first hour of play, I had around 7,000 chips with the average not even at 4,000.

For those who don't understand how rebuy tournaments work: after the first hour, you're not allowed to rebuy anymore, so once you're eliminated, you're gone for good.  This is when play gets serious.  Or so I thought.  The bad play continued, and I saw countless people play hands they had no business playing.  Sometimes they'd pay the price and lose the hand.  But more often than not, they'd somehow beat the odds and outdraw their opponent.  This wouldn't happen on any other site I've ever played at.

Anyways, so I'm sitting with 78hh on the big blind with my 7,000 chips early in the 2nd hour.  Everyone folds to a guy in mid position, who raises from 100 to 200.  Everyone else including the small blind folds, so I call, since I could be heads up and had favorable pot odds with a suited connector.   Flop comes out 578 rainbow, and I get the flop I want.  The guy bets 300 at me.  I think about smooth calling the bet for a bit, but then I figure I probably shouldn't, given the possible straight draw on the board.  So I raise back, and make it 1200 total.  The guy calls immediately without hesitation, which has me slightly worried.  Turn card is a T.  The guy checks.  I look over and see he's got only about 1200 chips left, so I bet whatever he has remaining to put him all in, figuring if he has trips, so be it.  I wasn't worried about a straight, because rarely do you see anybody raise pre-flop with hands like 69 or J9.  He calls, and flips over QJ.  He made all those bets with a Q high!  I pretty much had him dominated at this point.  The only thing in the deck that could save him was a 9 to make an inside-straight.   And of course, the Party Poker software rewards the stupid idiot and rivers a 9.  And just like that, I've lost nearly half my chips to a fool who should have never seen cards past the flop.

A couple of hands later, I've got A5 on the small blind (blinds at 75/150).  2 limpers call before me, so I complete the blind and we've got a 4-way pot.  Flop is A2J rainbow, with one heart.  I'm first to act, and with the top pair, I bet 800 to at least make a few of my competitors fold.  Two do, but one calls.  I find it an odd call, because the call has left the one guy still in against me with only 500 chips.  He's basically committed himself to the hand, because at this point, it wouldn't be prudent of him to fold under any circumstance.  Anyways, the turn card comes a 3h, giving me an inside straight draw to go with my top pair.  I quickly tap him, and he calls for the rest of his chips... with K9hh!!!  He stayed on a A2J flop with K9!!!  Completely brain dead move.  But of course, on Party Poker, the worst hand almost always wins, so the river shows a 8h, and my opponent has made his flush with running hearts.  Another kick in the stomach, and just like that, my 7,000 chips has dwindled to less than 2,000 in a mere 15 minutes.

I eventually fought my way back into the tournament, doubling up twice and stealing a few other pots here and there to get back to around 8,500 chips.  And while I was below the average of about 13,000 chips, I was in decent position to make a run, since Party Poker's blind structure for tournaments goes up at a much slower rate than Pokerstars does, and does not include antes on top of blinds.  We were only about 50 people away from making the money, and I probably could have folded out and placed.  But, I'm not playing for a few dollars profit, so the thought never crossed my mind until after the tournament.

As has been the case since about late March, every poker tournament I've played online has featured one trap hand right before the money that has either knocked me out or virtually crippled me to the point where I can't place.  And it's so blatantly obvious that I can spot them now, and I still have trouble avoiding them.  At this point in the tournament, Brendan was observing my table.  I was dealt TT on the small blind, and I wrote to Brendan over IM, "This is the trap hand that's going to be the end of me. Pocket tens."  I also wrote, "I'm going to fold to any raise in front of me, because I know this hand won't hold up."

Almost on cue, everyone else at the table folds immediately, leaving a battle of the blinds.  And I have TT.  So I'm sitting there, wondering what I should do.  It's just unheard of to fold TT heads-up pre-flop in almost any situation, so that wasn't an option.  I could just call to see a flop and play it ultra-conservative.  But, in my opinion, when you've got the best hand, you've got to get your chips into play.  So I knew I was raising, the question was just how much?  My opponent had me covered by about 8,000 chips, so I wasn't going to be able to force him to go all in.  My two options were: 1) standard 3X big blind raise, which he'd probably fold to about 50% of the time, especially if he didn't have a hand, or 2) go all-in, and force him to put half his stack in to call.  I figured he wouldn't call the all-in unless he had a premium or near-premium hand (in which case I was screwed anyways), so I decided to go all-in.  My opponent thinks long and hard, uses up his allotted time, and his time bank is activated.  He spends nearly a minute thinking before deciding to call.  With A7 off.

HE RISKED HALF HIS CHIPS WITH A7 OFF!!!

At this point, I didn't know whether or not to be mad or happy that he called the all-in.  I should have been happy, because he had 3 outs to win pre-flop and I had an enormous advantage.  I also had all my chips in the pot to go along with that advantage.  So I should have been thrilled to be a 3:1 favorite pre-flop.  But then again, I was pissed that he would call the raise with only one overcard, because if it hit, it would be blind luck again that would knock me out of the tournament.

Flop comes out 999.  Somehow, in the most unconventional of ways, the flop has given my opponent 1 more out (if another 9 fell, he'd win with the A kicker).  But, I wasn't worried about that, and I was still way ahead in the hand (at this point, probably about a 6-7:1 favorite).

Turn card is a 3.  No help for my opponent, who now needs an A or the last 9 in the deck to save him.  At this point, I'm at least a 10:1 favorite in the hand, if not more.

River A.

And I'm eliminated.

Immediately after the A fell, two of the other players at my table called ME a moron for going all in.  And another player congratulated the winner of the hand for making a "great call."  I'm incensed.  I've been knocked out of the tournament by a bullshit play that never should have happened.  After about a minute or two of yelling back and forth with the idiots at my table who applauded a move by somebody to risk half his chips with 3 outs and got lucky, I lost interest and retired to bed, still furious at how I got shafted out of another online poker tournament.

The sad thing is, I saw this coming a mile away.  My remarks to Brendan before I even made my decision to bet at the pot on that final hand clearly illustrate that.  And somehow, I cannot find ways to avoid getting screwed.  Successful poker is all about winning hands you're supposed to when the majority of your chips are in the pot, and on occassion winning hands you're not supposed to.  If you take that first part out of the equation, it's very difficult to win at poker.  Period.  And that's why I've been stuck in my hold 'em rut that I've been in for the last four months.  Can't shake these sort of hands.

Next chance for redemption: Wednesday night. 

 

I think my life has changed over the course of the past three days moreso than any other three days in my life.  I'm not kidding around at all.  And for me, that's really saying something.  So much has happened over the past 72 hours that I've been unable to even find a few minutes to post here.

Where do I begin with this one...

I went golfing for the first time on Wednesday afternoon with Ray, Alex and Mark.  We went to this course called the Heron Glen down in Hunterdon County about an hour's drive away.  Beautiful course.  Of course, having never played a full round of golf before and not really a fan of even the driving ranges, I failed miserably to card even a decent score anywhere on the course.  I ended up shooting a 149, one shot better than my original goal of 150.  For all you serious golfers out there, laugh it up all you want, but I doubt you could shoot better given my extreme lack of experience.  Still had a ton of fun, though, despite the enormous blister I ripped somewhere along the 9th hole.  If I ever get serious about playing golf one day, I'll never forget the first time I went out there and made a fool out of myself.  That was great.

After golfing, I came back and played my weekly live cash game at Club Rick.  It was a night where finally my hands (always the favorite preflop, seriously) held up, and I walked away with a significant win.  I won't post the amount here, but let's just say I can play in AC next week for two days with the aid a bankroll now. 

That night, I got the news that GU had "priority waitlisted" me.  Well fuck them.  Like I wasn't already waiting.  I'm kind of shocked they'd treat an alum like this, drag this out and make him wait unreasonably and then still not give him a concrete answer.  But so it goes, and I'm headed where I'm appreciated...

...in Philadelphia.  The day after GU slammed the door in my face, Drexel opened theirs and welcome me with open arms.  Bittersweet moment, knowing the next step of my life would be in Philly and not DC, but that I'd still had been able to accomplish something.  And so some serious apartment hunting began: first with some help from Nicole, who had already received some suggestion for housing from Drexel, and then long hours scouring Craigslist.

In short, I'll be in Philly tomorrow looking for a place to live.  Any and all help (suggestions, tips, anything!) would be appreciated (Carol and Brian, thanks very much for the offer, especially on such short notice).  School starts in a week, so summer vacation's been cut short!

Good, I say.  It's time to move on and get it done.

So many things have been happening so quickly during the last few days or so I haven't really had a chance to stop and catch my breath.  But, now I'm finally home again, and in order to keep this manageable, I'm gonna give an abbreviated recap of my weekend up to now.

Saturday: I went with Brendan to Philly to check out apartments (so that I wouldn't be homeless for the upcoming school year).  I accidentally overslept and got to Brendan's around 2 hours late, so I ended up missing 2 appointments (that ended up not being that big of a deal).  Saw 2 places, and decided on the one that was in a nicer area, nicer apartment complex, closer to school, and 150 bucks more a month.  In comparison to what a tiny 12 by 10 feet dorm room would have cost, it's only 100 more a month.  So I'd say I didn't do too badly in my housing search, considering I had a week until orientation began.  After the housing search, me and Brendan headed back up to a BBQ at Brian Sciaretta's house.  I met up with Ed, Reza, Mike (Ed's roommate senior year at GU), Carol, Gloria, and a few other people I either hadn't seen for years or just met for the first time.  We spent a few hours there before calling it a night.

Sunday-Tuesday: We headed down to Wildwood for a few days, and stayed at a motel called the V.I.P., about a block from the beach.  The trip was highlighted by: winning a shuffleboard tournament with Bob, beating and witnessing the beating of at least 3 arcade games (Police Trainer, Time Crisis 3, and the Simpsons), a dinner at the Crab House at Two Mile Landing (crabs were good, but way too messy and required way too much effort to eat), a round of mini-golf, obligatory Wawa run, "Johnny, get the bodybag," late night Elimidate and Blind Date reruns on TV, the occassional game of rummy (or three), Eric and Alex winning prizes on the boardwalk, getting checked out by JB on the boardwalk, watching Justin and his 12 year old friends trying to hit on an 18 year old, and of course all pool and beach action.  A great trip overall; got lots of sun and good food.  Very relaxing vacation, considering the last two trips to the beach (Acapulco and Bethany Beach) were just all out drunk fests.

Wednesday: Made the hour long drive back up to AC, and proceeded to get my ass handed to me in blackjack.  I went on a stretch of 3 tables in 3 different casinos where it was not possible for me to get a hand above a 16.  Hard to win when that happens, even when the shoe is in your favor.  Cheesesteak on the boardwalk was fantastic, though.  The drive back home with Ray that night was awesome; got hit by a freak thunderstorm and rainshower, saw "Cloud City" in the distance, played annoying poppy techno the entire way back on the Parkway, and finished the drive with some old school Wu and Big Pun.

So what now?  A few errands here and there for the next 2-3 days, and I will be down in Philly for orientation, beginning on Monday.  I've got a theory about summer breaks; they're usually the best after I've moved on to something else.  What I mean is, the summers between middle school and high school, high school and college, and college and grad school are probably the best summers I've ever had.  Why?  Because you know you don't know how much time left you're going to have with the friends you've made or had, and you end up trying to do everything.  By the end of the summer, you realize you HAVE done everything, and it's just a very fulfilling feeling.  Does the summer of 2005 go down in the record books as the best summer ever?  Maybe.  It's definitely up there.  It may take a few weeks or months to reflect upon it and judge where it ranks in the pantheon of great summers. 

As is the case with most of these silly surveys/lists/etc., I do them anyways... I'm not sure why, but I do.  So here's another one. 

 

 

 

Seven Things That Scare You

1. Failure
   
2. Getting old
   
3. Needles
   
4. Being alone
   
5. Heights/Roller coasters (the faster and the higher, the worse)
   
6. Silence
   
7. My freshman year college roommate at Georgetown (no-brainer there)
   

Seven Things You Like The Most

1. Spending time with family and friends (RTC / RDP / GU)
   
2. College basketball
   
3. Playing texas hold 'em
   
4. Listening to new music
   
5. Good Italian food
   
6. Driving at night (weird, I know)
   
7. Not until this summer, but now... the Shore
   

Seven Important Things In Your Room

1. Computer... lifeline to the outside world...
   
2. iPod... not sure how I existed without it in the first place...
   
3. Cell phone... see #2
   
4. Framed card wishing me Happy Birthday given to me during freshman year of HS from all my friends from middle school
   
5. Boutineer given to me on prom night... yup, still got it...
   
6. Star-Ledger front page of the sports section the day after the Yankees won the 1996 World Series
   
7. Boombox... real old school and doesn't even work anymore, but I can't bring myself to throw it out... reminds me of when I grew up on radio stations before they started to suck (Z100, K-Rock, etc.).
   

Seven Random Facts About You

1. I've dislocated my shoulder... playing kickball... against fourth graders... while kicking... (this has to be the most random one of all time)
   
2. I know every line to the movie "Dumb and Dumber"
   
3. I met Jayson Williams in person before he shot his limo driver and killed him
   
4. My favorite drink is a Long Island iced tea
   
5. I used to sing in a choir when I was young... if you've heard me sing recently, you'll ask how that ever was allowed to happen...
   
6. I've beaten the video game Contra without losing a single life
   
7. I was once a model used in a grade school math textbook (guess they needed to fill their Asian quota for that particular edition)
   

Seven Things You Plan To Do Before You Die

1. Watch the Knicks win the NBA championship
   
2. Watch the Hoyas win the National Championship
   
3. Travel to Europe
   
4. Meet Natalie Portman in person
   
5. Win the World Series of Poker
   
6. Get into med school
   
7. Find true love, marry the girl of my dreams and have at least one son and one daughter
   

Seven Things You Can Do Well

1. Organize things (Linda, I didn't have to delete this one!)
   
2. Listen to friends & be supportive... perhaps sometimes a little too supportive (this one either!)
   
3. Simple math in my head
   
4. Speed read
   
5. Speed type
   
6. Sense of directions
   
7. Chug
   

Seven Things You Can't Do

1. Make decisions... I've been told I'm an indecisive bastard...
   
2. Take tests (again, Linda I'm there with you)
   
3. Watch the scene in Jackass the Movie with the manila envelopes and papercuts... makes me want to puke...
   
4. Golf (for real)
   
5. Eat olives... they are disgusting...
   
6. Touch my toes without bending my knees... flexibility is not my strong suit, sadly...
   
7. Dance... I'd easily get served...
   

Seven Things That Attract You To The Opposite Sex (not in order of importance)

1. Face... she can't be hard to look at...
   
2. Sense of humor... if she likes to laugh and thinks my jokes are funny, then we may have something... just remember, she's not a keeper if you have to watch what you say around her...
   
3. Trustworthiness... I put a lot of trust into those who are close to me... if I can't trust her, she won't be close to me... (honesty falls into this category)
   
4. This might sound really silly, but since I've had to deal with it so often in my life, I'm into girls who don't think the world revolves around them and need to be the center of attention
   
5. Body... again, she can't be hard to look at...
   
6. Intellect... it's always nice when someone can understand your sarcasm, witty jokes, & talk about something intellectual (Linda, you read my mind again... this is why we are family, no?
   
7. If she's attracted to me... yes it sounds so simple, but it makes sense if you think about it...
   

Seven Things You Say The Most

1. Sick
   
2. Sweet
   
3. Riiight
   
4. Yo
5. Dude
   
6. Man
   
7. Ridiculous
   

Seven Celebrity Crushes (whether local or foreign: also note, no married celebrities are included on this list)

1. Josie Maran
   
2. Jessica Alba
   
3. Keira Knightley
   
4. Natalie Portman
   
5. Jennifer Aniston
   
6. Mandy Moore
   
7. Kate Beckinsale
   

I'll be the first to admit I don't like change... at all.  It takes me awhile to get comfortable in a certain environment, but once I'm comfortable there, I'm good for life.  Rockaway's a good example of that; no matter how bored I might get, at least I'm HOME.  It's a great feeling.  And while I never got into that comfort zone in high school at Delbarton, I definitely did at Georgetown (although it took a few years to do so).  And now I'll have to do it again in Philly. 

I think one of the hardest things for me to do is to meet new people.  I'm generally a pretty outgoing person, and I'd consider myself friendlier than most.  But again, I don't have that same level of comfort around new people as I do around friends who I've known longer.  And it probably takes me longer than a lot of people to befriend somebody and really try to get to know them, rather than just hang out together on occassion.  Because of this, I'm a little worried about this upcoming school year.  During orientation at college, I think everyone was trying extra hard to make friends, and make sure they'd have a group of friends for their four years of college.  After all, it's the best four years of your life, and why would you want to spend it alone?  I just don't get that same feeling coming into this grad school program.  I can totally envision it as a place where since most students are in 1 or 2 year programs where the workload is probably heavier than undergradute course work, most students won't really take the time to get to know each other and build friendships.  Most of these students will be hellbent on trying to succeed, leaving little time for interaction.  After all, if you're only going to be there for 10 months, why wouldn't you just think about getting the job at hand done and moving on with the rest of your life ASAP?  I know I've thought about doing just that, but then I've realized that you can't go at it alone for extended periods of time in life.  It's just too difficult and not a happy way to live.

So here's to hoping that I might meet some people like I did at NS2 four years ago.  People who I'll stay in touch with for years to come, even after the IMS program is finished.  People who'll at least care somewhat about how I'm doing and how I'm feeling.  And people who'll keep me off the booze during the weekdays :).   But seriously, I think everybody who steps into a new environment for the first time is a little apprehensive about "fitting in" and making new friends.  I'm not any different.  I just hope it all works out in the end. 

Not quite yet, officially.  But it's time for me to at least go down there and begin my time as a student.

This week, I'll have new student orientation (I hope it's as cool as NSO at GU, haha) at Drexel.  Pretty crazy thought, having to get acclimated to an entirely new campus.  By the end of my time of Georgetown, I knew that place like the back of my hand, and it was a great feeling.  Other than a campus visit to UPenn four years ago and a Chinatown visit at least 10-12 years ago with Bert's family, which I don't even remember, I've never set foot in Philly long enough to even know what it's like.

On Friday, I was supposed to get another shot at the doc's office for TB, even though I couldn't convince them that I've needed one for the past two summers, having worked at St. Clare's.  However, since I wouldn't have been around 48-72 hours later (I would already be in Philly), my doctor asked if a nurse at the student health office down at Drexel could read my TB test for me.  I called the student health office, and they gave me an emphatic "No" as an answer, claiming that "the person who reads the result of the test has to be the same person who administers the vaccination."  Pretty much a gay rule, I have to say.  Wastes me a lot of time.  Now I have to go into their office on Monday morning before orientation starts, get the shot, and go back 2-3 days later to have it read.  Not only does this cost me another $15, it also prevents me from getting my student ID card on Monday.

After a week of orientation, I'll be back up in Rockaway on Friday, getting ready for the "real move-in."  I really don't have that much stuff to move, and packing should be relatively easy for me.  But, I DO need to move two items of rather significant size; a bed and a sofa.  If anyone is willing to help me out here and transport one or both of these items, I'll be more than happy to: a) pay for your gas, b) pay your tolls, and c) treat you to lunch and dinner.  So if you're available Sunday, August 7th, please let me know ASAP.  If you're wondering about the time committment, it's 2 hours to drive there, maybe 2 hours to finish moving everything (if that), and 2 hours to drive back.  I know Doug, you've said you're a maybe, and I appreciate that a ton.  Anyone else interested?

And please, stop it with the "goodbyes" and "I'm going to miss yous."  Goodbyes are for people who aren't coming back for a long time.  I'm going to be a 2 hour bus ride from home.  That's nothing.  And you're going to be a 2 hour road trip from visiting me.  That's nothing too.  And I'm talking to both DC and Rockaway people here.  I'm right smack in the middle; perfect location.  And I have an outdoor pool at my apartment complex.  If you want to see me every now and then, it's simply your call :).