Quit or Get Off the Pot

Quit or Get Off the Pot

First of all, it’s not quitting. It’s just a restructuring of one’s goals. When I was in 8th grade, I tried to swim underwater across the entire length of the high school pool. I almost made it, but came up short. My evil schmucks I called friends called me a quitter. And back then, I thought I was. I now see that incident as a restructuring of goals. I realized there was decidedly more value in breathing air to keep my brain alive than making it to the end of the pool. The same with walking over thin ice, jumping from a moving train or biting a snake’s tail (all things I said no to). This same theory has now been implemented into most areas in my life I’ve now decided to quit, whether it be paying back my student loans, becoming a famous stand-up comedian or being happy. There are just other goals that have leapfrogged these values in importance. Like the justification of all of my recent failures.

Still Standing Right Here…

Top 5 Lines That Won’t Get You Out of a Ticket

Top 5 Lines That Won’t Get You Out of a Drunk Driving Ticket Even Though They Are Somewhat Logical

5. “Yes, I had like three beers officer, but I drank them so fast I doubted I’m even drunk yet.”

4. “I know I was speeding but I was thinking that as drunk as I am, I should probably get off the road as fast as possible.”

3. “Yeah, I’m probably drunk, but at least I’m not texting.”

2. “Well officer, I thought I’d take the highway because there’s a lot more margin of error than there is on the back roads.”

1. “Well I didn’t want to drive home drunk but I couldn’t think of a better way to get my car back home.”

Please feel free to add your own. You needn’t disclose whether or not you’ve actually tried them.

I Can See Your Crack

I Can See Your Crack

I have a pretty decent size crack on my windshield and unlike all the literature says, it doesn’t appear to be going away on its own. It started on the passenger side at just about eye level and worked its way about ¼ of the way across pretty quickly. But it’s now kinda slowed down. And I don’t really see the need to fix it either. At first I was a little distracted and thought somebody was always trying to merge from the right. But now that I’m used to it (and already have a girlfriend), it’s not a big deal. My mechanic says that in addition to the obvious issues with vision which I’ve already circumnavigated (justified), it weakens the integrity of the windshield. So now if my windshield finds somebody else’s wallet, it will take all the cash before it mails it back. Or maybe I’m misunderstanding something. He said that if a basketball strikes the windshield, it is now more likely to break. Even in my line of work, I think I can avoid driving through a storm of basketballs.

So I’ve decided not to worry about getting it fixed. Unless of course they require a whole uncracked windshield as part of the Maryland State inspection. It’s been a while since I’ve been through a real inspection since Ohio only checks your headlights and odometer and only when you first buy it or move there. Heck, my jeep didn’t have doors that locked, functional seat belts or a roof and that lasted three years. And they let my legally blind roommate drive an SUV any time of day. How the hell do people survive out there? And the basketball storms are much worse out there too. Where the hell was I?

Still Standing Right Here…

The Weight is the Hardest Part

The Weight is the Hardest Part

I found a huge hole in the things that I’m good at in this world. Last week, we sponsored a weight lifting competition at UB with guest judge, Brendon Ayanbadejo from the Ravens (and the UB Business School). Now I know that I’m not a strong guy by any standard, certainly not by NFL linebacker standards, but I figured I could at least hold my own. Curious of exactly where I’d fall in the scope of this contest in which you had to lift 80% of your body weight as many reps as you could, I laid down on the bench and proceeded to not be able to get the bar off my chest, proving that I could literally not hold my own. Not even 80% of my own. I would be a horribel ant. And I did this not in the gym, but out on Gordon Plaza with a huge crowd for everyone to see.

I lost a lot of street cred.

Not only could I not lift this thing, but I also think I hurt my shoulder trying. And not just my shoulder, but my left testicle felt a good amount of discomfort when I sat down to pee that day. But that could be because it was caught between the seat and the bowl. Nevertheless, I was embarrassed. But even more than that, I was pissed. Really? I’m that inept now? I played high school football once upon a time. Sure, my nickname was Speed Bump and I led the team in hanging on to running backs until one of the linebackers could catch up to us to bring him down, but I still played football.

This cannot happen again. So the answer is obvious. It looks like I’m going to have to lose a lot of weight before the next challenge so I won’t have to lift as much. I suppose I could try to get stronger, but that seems like a lot more work. OR… I could just decide not to care. This actually seems like the path of least resistance. When faced with the decision to do 20 push ups during the commercial breaks of Parenthood or get a bowl of ice cream, we’ll see how much I really care about lifting a 135 lb. bar off my chest.

Still Standing Right Here…