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I’m not normally one for poetry, but I was just really happy about his picture. Matt owns a very nice telescope and he has been inspecting the approaching Mars. On his deck Friday, we turned towards the three quarter moon. I was amazed. I have never viewed it through a quality scope before. The details, the craters and seas, were unbelievable. Today’s pic was taken by holding my digital camera up to the telescope lens. On a side note, we were also able to see the polar cap on Mars.
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Enough astronomical ranting. The week’s riddle:

The answer to last week’s riddle: The letter “H”

Or 5 out of 6 men give Centerfolds the thumb’s up. This photo was taken by a cop, which is cool for some reason. Here’s the rest of the bachelor party pics. …
After my weekend of debauchery, I am subjecting myself to some much needed detoxification. I’m trying to see how long I can give up nicotine, alcohol, caffiene, and fried foods. I am also going to the gym. For breakfast this morning, a bran muffin and vitamin water.

I’m going to murder somebody by Friday.
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SOTD: An article making fun of New York, because it really is stuck on itself.

Where were you when the lights went out? I hope you weren’t in the subway .I haven’t heard of anyone I know who was. I left work shortly after it happened and wandered through Soho back to my apartment. I bought a box of Uncle Ben’s instant rice and a pack of cigarettes so I felt prepared for at least a few days of darkness.

Unable to reach anyone on my cell, I set up camp at The Edge, the bar beneath my apartment. I figured if any of my friends were looking for me, they would start there.For some technical reason, Guinness was all that would pour, so a nice couple I met and I tried to finish the keg while we played Trivial Pursuit.

After dark, Tyler and Tricia showed up and the candlelit party got under full swing. We spilled into the street with beers and smokes to cool off and sit upon stranger’s cars.

Toward’s 1AM, Trish left without even considering the rare and coveted blackout-sex. Tyler and I went to the bodega around the corner for some dinner. I was broke so he did the shopping: Chef-Boy-R-D Raviolis, BBQ Bugles, Lays potato chips, and French onin dip. After that repast and a strange encounter with some homeless folks on my stairs, Tyler crashed on my couch and I passed out beside my open bedroom window.

The most memorable things about the night are the most obvious; it was really dark. And it was really quiet. And really shitty.
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There also was a bachelor party for Jerry this weekend. Those pictures should be up tomorrow.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to introduce your Altoona Trout! We had our fantasy football draft last night and today’s pic is the ensemble that I hope will bring me the championship.

Some people draft for talent, but I prefer to draft based on intrigue. I like to think of my guys as the characters in a formulaic sports movie. Ricky Williams is the dreadlocked superstar who also suffers from severe Social Anxiety Disorder. He used to give interviews wearing his helmet because he was so freaked out. Now he’s on medication and doing really well. Terrell Owens is the made-for-tv flashy megastar who carried a Sharpie marker in his sock last year so he could immediately autograph the ball after a touchdown. The rare case of being good enough to be supremely cocky. My quarterback, Rich Gannon, is the crusty old white veteran trying to get the championship before retirement. The kicker is a latino ex-soccer player.

If real life is anything like the movies, I’m guaranteed to find victory. And love with the new cheerleader with the southern accent who helps me get over my doubts so I can catch the game winning touchdown in the big game. It is called fantasy football, afterall.
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Congrats to Bhaven and Dan who solved yesterday’s riddle. The rest of you…not so much.
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SOTD: I love this dog.

During my adventures last night, I met a crazy fat guy with a twelve-pound gold chain. He was from New Jersey, oddly enough. More details after coffee, plus this week’s riddle. …
You know who sucks? Sprint. I haven’t received an incoming call since Saturday. I apologize to all the people I hated because I thought they weren’t calling me back.
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You know what is played out? Flash mobs. They are so zeroes. What do we call this decade by the way? If the last on was the nineties, what is this one?
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WEEKLY RIDDLE:

Here’s the answer to last week’s riddle.
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SOTD: View the power of Photoshop.The model link makes you feel better about yourself.

One of the founders of our company, Jamie R, is similar to me in that he is prone to temporary, odd, random obsessions. On December 6, 2002, he had all the employees pose for hologramist, Jason Sapan.
Jason took repeated 8mm films of the crew turning our heads and pointing. Today’s pic is the end result. You can make out my melon 2/3’s of the way up and 2/3’s of the way over. I think you can also see the word “comet” on the banner at the bottom. The thumbnail on the monthly archive page actually looks better than this shot.

If you are looking at the actual hologram and you move from side to side, you can see the group turn their heads. It’s kind of cool. Here’s what we looked like when we were posing.

SOTD: See New York’s other amazing hologram—The Visible Woman Hologram

Tricia emailed me this picture of our first one…along with a request for money. I think she should ask Anheiser-Busch for child support and not me, because they are the reason she got pregnant. Anyways, mom and baby are doing fine. I’m going to stop by one of these days, but I got, like, stuff to do.

Hey look, all the way back there…the line.

Just kidding, Mom. Notice that the photo is titled “tricia_niece.jpg”.
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Speaking of keeping busy, I’d like to formally announce that I’m running for governor of California.
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SOTD: Look at other people’s photos. Randomly.

As I promised yesterday, for dinner I devoured a dozen hot wings. Mary, Ben, and Lauren got in on the action. I can only hope they are feeling better than I am. Over twelve hours after I had those wings, I feel like there is a little man named Snappy Redfire in my belly. He’s river-dancing and swinging around a cobbler’s mallet, much to my dismay. Settle down now, Snappy!

They say chopping firewood warms you twice: once when you cut it, once when you burn it. Eating wings has warmed me twice. I’m a candle burnt at both ends. In less poetic terms, wing sauce burns your ass when you shit the next day.
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Yesteday I listened to the Joy Division song “Digital” twenty-three times. I’ve decided no good music has been made since 1984.
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I’d like to official announce a moratorium on making fun of Gigli. It’s just too easy. And too obvious.

My parent’s yard is adjacent to a large field and state forest land. Every evening a mist begins in the cool air beneath the trees and works its way across the field, down and across our lot. It is very eerie. …
Here’s some pictures from the weekend. Probably only of interest to the family. No comments or potato gun pictures.
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My computer is experiencing technical difficulties and at this point, it fails to start up. This may affect my ability to post daily updates. I hope to fix the problem this evening.

Any production that incorporates a giant inflatable Kong has got to be good …
I had fifty-four visitors to the site yesterday, two (Tyler and Bhaven, yay!) were able to answer the riddle. The rest of you are dumb.
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At five today, I’m leaving in a rental car for Altoona to visit my folks. I can’t wait to do nothing but eat their food and bask in unconditional love…and then tell them all the things wrong with them.
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SOTD: From Muncle Steve, the coolest car commercial ever. No special effects, 605 takes.