without condition

You find the situation just a bit uncomfortable.
You'd rather stay far away from reality.
For you to understand would be clearly impossible, so you shut your eyes and swear you can see; claiming there is a god, but does that mean anything?

You're so condescending to those that you don't understand.
It's just too easy to make them your enemies.
Like an ostrich, you bury your head in the sand, and then you shout about all the things you believe. But if there is a god, don't you think he could see what you really mean, what you're doing?

So place all the souls that you know in their own little box.
It's quite convenient to handle them that way.
You're the only one you know who carries a cross!
You don't care what they care about anyway.
And you talk to your god, praying for those who sin, for their eyes to be opened...

You can't find the answers until you learn to question. You won't appear stupid, just ask for direction. You're insecure and it clouds your perception,
so STOP,
and listen,
and learn a lesson in love without condition.

** ginny owens. occasionally rocking my world so simply **

Everything is better on a kaiser roll

I'm not certain that the title is actually true, but I feel like most New Jerseyans feel this way. Egg and bacon? Better on a kaiser roll. Steak? Better on a kaiser roll. Butter? Better on a kaiser roll. Your mom? Better on a kaiser roll.

argh... I'll finish this later. It seems I don't have time to complete a thought these days. Drat.

As Steven Tyler once said: "It's Amazing"

Old English: 1
Moe: 52

Contrary to popular belief, I did not spend Thursday night downing several small bottles of Old English furniture polish. Nor did I spend the evening shooting pool at the Old English Pub (although... well, that would have been a really good idea).
Nay, I spent the evening driving around northern new jersey, top of the saab down. I successfully downed 52 oz. of beer in 30 minutes. Testosterone levels were high.

Please, allow me to explain something: most of my previous injuries have been testosterone induced. Certainly self-induced, but also testosterone induced.
Thursday was no exception. Example:

"Here. Have a 40. The rest of us are having 40's... and seeing as how we're guys, we're sure to finish them LONG before your wussy girly self does..."
(paraphrased in order to make my freaking point)

So how do I respond? Well, I respond by making damn sure that the 40, along with a 12 oz. bottle fo XXX, was down the trap within 30 minutes.

I spent Friday morning wishing I had jumped out a window. Gatorade made me feel only slightly better. Granted, 52 oz. of beer is not an extraordinary amount, but it did something to me that I don't care to experience again anytime soon.

Saturday night was spent with the brothers and Brandon (best bud since... well, since forever) amazingly called me to hang out (he hasn't returned my calls for about 6 months now. OK, so not best bud since forever. argh) and we decided to grace Finnagel's with our glorious presence. Much tequila was consumed. This is another example of the testosterone induced madness that I was speaking of earlier. Tequila? Sure. I'll have whatever you guys are having. And I'll be damned if I'm going to have a chaser to go along with it. Chasers are for wussies. I am not a wussy! I am a warrior!
OK, so we drank tequila, blah blah blah (blah cubed), and then JC, Tony, and I went home, watched a young girl get a DUI right in front of our house (long story - you can make one up if you'd like), and then left to go out and put up lawn signs for GWB. Out until 5 in the morning, with the dog, and AC/DC on the hi fi. I don't even know where all we put up signs, but we put up about 65 or so. We got tired after awhile and decided to call it a night. JC and I were halfway into a bottle of Petrone, and Tony (the only sober one with us - including the dog) was getting tired of driving. So we called it quits and head home at dawn.

hrmmm... JC is starting to get more political than me. But he's fun. He's fun when he's political and drunk.

customized tradition

Current Mood: satiably soulful

I don't want things to change from what they've changed to. I like them the way that they are. Right now, this is what I like. I enjoy right now because I love the feeling it gives me - to make someone else happy. All this, and I don't want it to change. No, not one bit.

Change (coinage or otherwise) is reserved for rainy days. Celestial tears wash away today's pain and pleasure only to be sent down the curb's drain and swished around, saving itself for later. I like it though. Sort of.

The fluorescent lighting in this office is reminiscent of "Joe vs. the Volcano" or "Being John Malkovich". Either way, it can't be good on the eyes.

The greatest time I ever had in the rain was with Brandon at a rest stop in Maryland. I don't remember where we were going (or coming back from), but it was pouring rain and the water was collecting on positively everything. Instead of running into the rest stop (stale pretzels and day old coffee waiting inside), we stayed just outside where water had filled the awning of a kiosk and we threw water at eachother until we were both absolutely soaked. We're such children. We were completely drenched and even managed to get a few innocent passersby a little wet, but for some reason it was so funny. We were probably high. Who knows?

I like the sound of the tires driving over the slick road. It sounds... dare I say? Yes, I will. It sort of sounds.... well, it sorta sounds sexy.

Oh baby, oh baby, let me hear the sound of your goodyears on the slick road again...

it's not raining right now in Jersey City - it's just a bit slick. But people are still walking by this office, on the sidewalk, holding fully open umbrellas. I wonder this, and it is this by which I am mystified: do they carry the open umbrella in the hopes that it might rain or in the fear that it might rain?
If I had the time to conduct a man-on-the-street survey, that's exactly what I would be doing right now, at this very moment.

For the record: I was leaving the office late the other night and pulled up alongside a car at a traffic light. On the back bumper of the car there were two bumperstickers proudly displayed. First one said "Go Vegetarian!" (please note the exuberant use of the exclamation point). The second one, directly beneath the first one, said "I ♥ Gorillas". Sadly, there was no repeat on the exclamation point. But the message was clear just the same.

Jersey City is so curious in the rain. I want more of it. I have very mixed emotions about moving to Mountainside come November. It will be nice to have a bigger office, and my own office at that, but I shall miss Jersey City something horrid.

For the record (yet again): Paige Davis was at my office the other week, and quite randomly so. I walked up the front steps and there she was, on the phone, sitting on the step. Her camera crew was in the pet shop next door and she was outside making a call. I had to ask her to move her knee in order for me to open the office door. She looked up, smiled apologetically, and gladly complied with my request.

I walked out 10 minutes later and she was there on the other end of the stoop, camera pointing at her, microphone in hand, doing her thing "Hi! Welcome to this episode of Trading Spaces! I'm Paige Davis!" (the exclamation points! again! argh!) and sadly I was walking out the front door with a huge garbage bag slung over my shoulder.

Apparently, the Pet Shop Boys were trading spaces with their neighbors and the show decided it would be pretty cool to stop by their shop and check out the scene in JC. Keep your eyes peeled for my black trash bag and humiliated demeanor.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's that time again. Back to work. Argh.

PUSHING: buttons, daisies, envelopes, helpless people down elevator shafts, etcetera

As of late, we have depended on mild forms of entertainment in the office. Argh...


****

Moe: If I ever get a boat, I'm going to name it... "Your Mom"

Amanda: (laughing because it's way too late and we've been at the office far too long)

Moe: And then, when people ask me where I'm going I can say: "for a ride... on Your Mom"

****

Moe: Gregory, there is a one dollar bill in my bed with me.

Gregory: That is amazing! Do you think that maybe your body is producing dollar bills as you sleep? If that's the case, I'm definitely on my way over there...

Moe: I'm not sure, but that's the most fantastic thing I've heard in a long, long time.

Gregory: Well, it's a slow road to financial freedom, but at least it's SOMETHING. I mean, take the Sally Struthers approach: for just the cost of a cup of coffee a day...


****

Moe: I swear, if I get ONE MORE infection in this eye...

Amanda: You're going to poke it out?

Moe: No!! I'm going to get a glass eye; one of those fancy deals with the Schundler for Governor Reform logo painted right on it. That way, everytime I go to shake hands with Doug Forrester or John Murphy I can stare them right in the eye with that shit!


****

Amanda: I'm going to put on the hugest gala this state has ever seen. I'm going to have 5,000 people there!!

Moe: what if there's not enough room at the Atri...

Amanda: I don't care! I'll have people outside, in the freezing cold, busting down the doors to get in! Bob Schroeder, and Doug Forrester, and John Murphy, and Diane Allen will all be out there, freezing, trying to peek in. And it WON'T be the cold air blowing off the Hudson that makes their teeth chatter that night!


****

Amanda: Moe, we have all these young, male volunteers coming in and it's all because of you!

Moe: No, no, no... Amanda, don't be ridiculous. Please. Are we being honest? Let's be completely honest...

Amanda: Moe! I am being honest! Think about it: why would all these guys be coming in unless there was a hot girl here to keep them entertained?! Why else would they be hanging around unless they had huge crushes on YOU!

Moe: What?! I look like POO... with orange hair!

****

Amanda: I'll tell you what... I'll go ahead and buy your line. But only as long as the money doesn't go to support your habit of being an ASSHOLE!

****

Christopher: The name Chris just pisses me off. I hate it.

Clarence: My son's name is Chris.

Chelsea: My best-friend's name is Chris.

Moe: My sister's name is Cris.

Clarence: So basically, what we're telling you is that we're about to jump your ass... Jersey style

Moe: Chris, you're not in Kansas anymore...

****

Amanda: Awww... shit on a stick!

Moe: Shit-ka-bob?

****

Moe: You know, for a cop, traffic duty is sort of like prostitution.

Amanda: What the hell are you talking about?!

Moe: Well, I mean, there's just no honor in it, you know? Just no honor.

****

Moe: Hey, Amanda, what's "Hackensack" Indian for again? County Seat of Corrupt Government or something?

the best I can do

Tragically, the best I can do is not all that great (as it turns out). But it's still my best. So brava! Everyone give me (moe, that's me. I'm moe. right here. look at me) a big pat on the back. A high five, if you will. Because my best has arrived.

This is completely uncalled for.

FRIDAY: Absolutely outstanding. My excitement for the Swiss Auto Club show was completely out of control. I'm super proud of the boys to say the least and was more than pleased to be there. Bought the new album and have been rocking it in the car ever since.

The Friday bit in all caps and followed by a colon made it appear as though I was going to continue in like fashion with at least one other day of the week.

haha. i fooled you.

I've sat down to write in the good ol' blog at least six (6!) times this past week and each time was met with so much information, events, words, phrases (a mere extension of 'words'), and emotion that I've found myself overwhelmed and really unsure of WHAT to write. Work has been overly female dogged although somehow pleasurable just the same. There's something about working really hard and getting it accomplished. Granted, I've been working about 14 hours a day this past week (and it will only get worse) but I've been really satisfied with actually getting things accomplished. The family has been great - Cristina and Cheech were in town for two weeks and just left yesterday. He's gotten so big, it's amazing. My dad ran over some woman in a parking lot the other week. That's not the best part of it though. See, the best part is that he ran over her on purpose. Isn't that just fantastic? I realize it's a tad severe, but really, he only did what everyone else was thinking. So it's at least somewhat justified (not like Timberlake and Christina).

PARTNER IN CRIME: I've managed to outdo myself yet again. I've managed to score myself one of the coolest cats on the planet and in him I've found a true confidante, a great partner in crime. He makes me smile at least 8 dozen times a day with crafty machination and random wordplays that are far too clever for me. He tells me long stories that I love and we poke fun of quirky and awkward everyday things as often as possible. Mr. Gregory Andres is soooo coool. Special even (in that very non-rainman sorta way). Stick around... 'cause I like you. I like you just fine.

Post surgery follow-up appointment this Friday. Should be tons o' fun to be poked and prodded yet again. Except this time, in vibrant technicolor! Well, I'll be toting a fancy scmancy blue health insurance membership card around in my back pocket this time around anyway, which is just as good (if not better) than technicolor - vibrant or otherwise.

I realize that I mentioned it in my last blog title, but failed to fully highlight the important role of the york peppermint pattie in my life these days. Please, do not misunderstand me. Do not believe for one second that I have no self control over such trivial indulgences. I really and truly do - it's just that the ypp is so special I don't want it to be gone from my life. No, not in the least. I see no reason to eliminate this tasty comestible from my diet and so I'm keeping it around. Its small, smooth roundness and fresh sensation has imbedded itself in my everyday routine and I just can't shake it. Experience it for yourself and you will be hooked, I'm sure. My mother has recently been found guilty of supporting my nasty habit - she brought me home a Costco size box of the little buggers. 180 miniature ypp's all for me! Good heavens, I hardly know what to do with myself.

On this note, my friends, I bid you farewell. As I said earlier, work has been somewhat of a bitch lately and I must arise early tomorrow morning to walk the dog (this is totally a metaphor, in case you didn't catch on).

Goodnight.

the perfection of the york peppermint pattie

Current Mood: shivery delicious

Full of smite am I right now.
At this very moment.

It's quarter past one in the morning. I have to leave for work at 6 o'clock tomorrow morning. I have to shower now for it will never happen later - er at least, it could happen but would ruin any promise I had of actually leaving for the office on time.

At any rate - all this aside, I am in such a state. The Garden State of Euphoria, if you will (and I will).

I will finish this some other time. I realize that I have been silent for quite awhile, but I will have to remain silent (or at least semi-silent) for a few moments longer. I'm falling asleep on the keyboard and I'm not the biggest fan of getting drool between the keys.

Farewell and goodnight,
moe