Sunshine is awesome

Sunshine truly is ridiculously, badassedly, hot-to-trot awesome.

I'm pretty sure I have SAD because in the winter I am sad.

SAD is no joke. Seasonal Affective Disorder. See that, I bolded the letters to show you why it's called SAD.

You know that feeling when the sunlight starts burning into you? Like you can pretty much literally feel your skin cooking? You liberal hippies and conservative wack-jobs probably call it that 'getting cancer' feeling.

I love that. It's awesome. It's like warming your bones. I need that like once every few days. It fuels me in this weird positive energy way. Like I know 'everyone loves the sunlight--it's only natural' but I'm talking I get way 'higher'. It's almost like sunshine is my drug. All winter I'm still pretty upbeat I'd say but nothing compares to sunny summer days. Sunlight is mega-cool.

They even say you get more vitamin D from sunlight.

I dare you to name any food or magic pill that can do that.















Summer Stats
--I dance about 7000% more at random
--I snap my fingers and air-drum 1100% more
--I can put up with ignorant customer's shit 3000% more
--I have a 300% increase in corny old-person joke outputtage
--I rock 4000% funkier on the bass
--I lift 50% more weight (when weight lifting)
--I run 40% farther (when running)
--I jump 11% higher (when sitting down)
--I do my work quicker and I'm generally 4000% more upbeat
--I take up crazy new hobbies
--I shampoo my hair -20% less
--I fight my dogs 300% more
--I argue with people 70% less
--My chance of curing cancer is 600% greater
--I can hold my breath longer (I'm not a scientist I don't know what %)
--I buy 220% more goods from girlscouts
--I shower -20% less
--I think I start to like my family more
--I swear 200% more
--I am inclined to give people compliments
--I build household bombs and plot against the government -10,000,000% less
--I like vegetables 3% more
--I threaten to murder, rape, and kill TV hockey referee's children -100% less
--I go out at night 511% more
--I drink beer 0% more. No, less.

So there you have it. Let's here it for sunshine.

It's time to get my 'italian' on.

Real Life v. Fake Life Round 1

Yes, the Flyers lost and I shaved.
Yes, the Penguins will get killed soon and I'll enjoy it.
Yes, it was like 90 degrees today and that's awesome.
Yes, we were up 6-2 the other night in Men's League and lost 7-6.


These are all simple facts. Easy. Regular. Part of life.

What's not part of life is Ibanez's grand slam tonight.
It's Matt Walker's broken finger.
It's me buying a charger at the T-Mobile store on Chelten.
It's Jamming in DC as part of Uranium Bassment.
It's driving stick shift in my car and loving manual transmissions.
It's free tuna hoagie's from Chubbie's.
It's the fact that this auto-dictionary doesn't have the word 'hoagie' in it.
It's wanting to become a chef in my life when I can barely cook toast.
It's starting to take protein and starting to work out so I look like Fabio.
It's me thinking about it, should I do it, growing my hair out.
It's going to the Russian Circles concert tomorrow night. Maybe.

Real life is one thing.

What's not real life is another.

Got it?


















It's acutally quite simple.

Or maybe they're all the same.

I forget sometimes.

I think I'll get a motorcycle.

Let Her Sing

Everyone already has the Penguins in the 2nd round.
The analysts have made their decrees.
The Penguins have it in their blogs.
Even the Philly papers have printed the obits.

It's over -- the results are in.
RIP - Flyers in Game 5
2009 Done.

In all honesty even I've given up (I never give up -- I'm a non-realist)
But this is just too much to handle.
Book it ladies and gentlemen.

And yet...

The Flyers haven't.

? Of course they say "Oh, we're still in this," and go through all the motions, when really, clearly, utterly you can already tell when a team knows they're done. But according to reports today at practice the Flyers were loose. The Flyers were confident. The Flyers were savoring the moment. Did they just stop caring? Are they insane?

?

I don't know what to make of it.

Maybe they are crazy. Maybe that's just what we need here in Flyerdom. This team has looked horrible, horrible, horrible before. They were losing 5-1 to Carolina early in the year and came out in the 3rd and my drunk ass was yelling "If you're gonna lose, rip someone's HEAD OFF" from the 200 level. But the Flyers didn't lose. They came out and won. It was insane. There's something about this team. You just can't keep them down. You just can't count them out. It got me thinking -- what's the point?

What's the point of giving up? What's the point of being a realist? What's the point of probabilities and statistics and numbers and words? This is the '09 Flyers team. This is the '09 Pens team. This series has never happened before. These two individual teams have never met in a best of seven. Throw everything out the window. And honestly -- who gives a fuck?

Let the Fat Lady Sing.

Let all the doubters, all the realists, all the normals come out and say their peace. This is our night. This is the '09 Flyers baby! We can lose 14-0 and I'm still gonna yell. I'm still gonna scream. I'm still gonna go nuts. So why not hold out hope?

Let the fat lady sing, I say.

We're going to stuff her mouth so full of high sticks, flying elbows, and Claude Giroux dangles it won't matter. We are going to Mike-Richards-destroy,
Simon-Gagne-snipe, and Carcillo bang that bitch until it doesn't matter. We're gonna skate, check and deke our fist right into her bloodied mouth over and over.

And maybe, just maybe, we shut her up just long enough to get to Monday night. We shut her up until Game 7. And maybe, just maybe, because, let's admit it, this is crazy, maybe it'll be OUR fat lady singing Monday night. Maybe Kate Smith's 'God Bless America' will rock apart the Wach for Game 6 and echo all the way into Monday night and it'll be the Penguins standing in there in utter shock.

It's delusional, it's a longshot, it's a snowball's chance in hell -- and call me crazy -- but I like our odds.

blank

I Am Jack's Seething Rage

4.20

It's 4-20 Yo

Gettin Baked
Rippin a J
Puffin Cheeba
Smokin the Ganja
Hittin the Hash pipe
Partaking in botanicals
Packin a bowl
Lighting up a fatty
Smokin Dope
Ploughing through the Drug Milky Way
Peace Pipe play time
Tokin on the bong
Crushin herb
Jumping on the Highway
Investigating a hit
Hotboxin without the box
Getting stoned and Bowled over
Refueling the Marijuana gland
Keiffer Smokerland
Joyriding the Magic pipe
THC Time
Diving into the high geyser
Smokey and the Bandit one less bandit
Moking Smarijuana
Procuring goods and services
Journeying to the Center of the Earth
Getting ready to watch Planet Earth
Sudden (Hunger) Valley
Getting ready to get ready to get the munchies
Letting your lungs know who's boss
Filling out an Rx for Red Eye
Sending smoke signals
Sparkin some bud
Shotgunning some Leaf
Doing illegal activities
Turning water into wine into marijuana
Praising the Lord of Greenage
Going to "WaWa"
Saying no to sobriety
Getting like the barometric pressure after rain
Letting combustion take it's course on drugs
Joining the Purple Haze convent
Living underwater but instead of water it's smoke
Convincing your brain and pretending to smoke tobacco
Getting ready to praise the Holy Spirit if the Holy Spirit were pot
Watching music videos on youtube for hours
Taking a really really long shower and almost falling asleep
Watching Last Action Hero because the remote is like, totally, all the way over there
Eating a bowl of cereal at midnight
Hookah brother up
Blazing one






















Whatever you wanna call it, man. It's like totally what I'll be doing to celebrate (one day in the next few weeks or months or so)

Blaze on, pothead.

Carcillo Supsended

Dan Carcillo suspended for Game 2. Why?

Intimidation tactics and "trying to send a message."

The NHL is a joke. Gordie Howe would punch the NHL in the mouth. The Rocket would slash the NHL in the eye. Rick Tocchet would have sex with the NHL in front of a full-length wall mirror.

Pretty much anyone who's played in the NHL up to 15 years ago would club the NHL's mother over the head with a rock and then mount her and point to the NHL's dad and tell him 'he's next.'

It's sad. And it makes me more and more bloodthirsty.

Does Carcillo look like a Flyer?
He's only been here for a month or two and already he's getting 'Flyer for Life' treatment by the refs and NHL brass.



















If this 'wussification' of the NHL keeps up I might have to take up watching Curling (Germany won and I so bet on it on ESPN Streak for the Cash.) Or I could take up murder.

Truely Truth in True

Hockey. What is it anyway?

It's just a barbaric sporting event the way I see it. I mean, who puts all their eggs in a basket that actually allows fighting as part of the game?

It's just a game.