Photos: Birthday Happy Hour

Now that I’m back from Denver, I’ve got a little bit of a backlog as it pertains to pictures and things to write about… so with that in mind, it’s time to get cracking, and start catching up with all of the events before and after my trip.

I’m not really that big on birthday parties, but one thing I like do to do every year is simply get my local buds out for good food and drinks in honor of my birthday.  This year, I invited those who wanted to come and drink and eat good barbecue out to Moe’s Original Barbecue, which is like my current favorite BBQ restaurant in Atlanta, because they have the greatest wings in the city, seriously.

I was honestly nervous about the weather, since there were some dark rain clouds looming up above throughout the afternoon, but fortunately for all of us, it stayed put, and it turned out to be a pretty relaxing evening of good food, drink and company.  And I would be remiss if I did not say that I am very grateful and thankful to those who showed up to give me a little bit of their time all because of my silly birthday.  You guys are all awesome.

So anyway, I’m 31 now.  Old as shit, and feeling it in my back and shoulders these days.

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The real SMB3 MARTA map

There’s a guy fairly recently that has been enjoying a few minutes of e-notoriety, because he’s producing recreations of particular cities’ public rail transportation maps, themed with Super Mario Bros. 3 sprites.  At a quick glance, he’s done SMB3-themed maps for Portland, Washington D.C., and a few Canadian cities like Calgary, Montreal and Toronto.

I’ll admit that they’re cute, it’s kind of a creative idea, but the fact of the matter is that he’s still using someone else’s properties as its theme.  Regardless, despite the fact that they are aesthetically pleasant to look at, the one glaring flaw in all of them is the fact that they’re all pretty general and standardized.  Every single one of them is based on the SMB3 map of World 1, which is all pleasing, happy and green grassland.

I get what the guy is doing, and that he’s clearly going for consistency in his productions.  But this is where I state that I live in reality, and the truth of the matter is that the world is not this happy-go-lucky, bobbing-in-the-wind green grassland.  I can’t really speak most of the Canadian cities, but I have been to Portland, and I used to live in the D.C. area enough to have an opinion of his Metro map, but I didn’t really bother other than a few cursory snide, curmudgeon remarks with the latter.

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I can’t get over this story

Everything about this story is pretty incredible.  Long story short, former WWE wrestler Chris Masters, rescued his mother from her burning home, set ablaze by a crazy neighbor.  He accomplished this act of heroism by retrieving his mother through a window that he bashed through with a tree.

Let those words soak in for a moment.

With a tree.

Not a stick, or a substantially large piece of wood that happened to be lying in the ground.  Chris Masters picked up an entire tree, and smashed through the window in which he rescued his mother from.  And this wasn’t just some fallen tree that happened to be conveniently located, Chris Masters uprooted a ten-foot tree from the ground with his bare hands and used it as a battering ram.

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The importance of storming the court

So while I watching the latest upset of Duke the other night, as the seconds and minutes ticked down, and Duke hadn’t made a barrage of three pointers and Mason Plumlee dunks to cut the gap and overtake the lead, all I could think of was if UVA was going to storm the court when they won. Considering the fact that NC State, Miami and Maryland had all stormed court after beating Duke, and that UVA hadn’t beaten Duke in like forever, so the answer was pretty obvious. Naturally when the final horn sounded, UVA stormed the court as everyone and their mother relished at the sight of Coach K and Duke walking off the court in failure and disappointment.

Seldom is there a Duke loss on the road that doesn’t involve the home fans storming the court. According to the WSJ, an astounding 80% of the home team fans have stormed the court following an upset over Duke over the span of the last ten years. In fact, the article is a little dated and doesn’t factor in the wins of Miami, Maryland and Virginia into the equation so it’s now a little bit more. Obviously, my favorite one is the one shown above, but it really doesn’t matter who it is in the end; everyone on the planet that did not go to Duke loves to see Duke’s men’s basketball team lose on the road and seeing their opponents’ fans storming the court in celebration. I’m pretty sure people would be okay if Duke lost to the Soviets in 1972 and Soviet fans stormed the court, to be perfectly honest.

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A little bit of reality

In spite of the fact that I have a tendency to try to not entirely get too personal with what I write on my brog, there comes times in which frankly I don’t feel like there’s anyone I can really talk to and actually feel like I’m getting any modicum of empathy or support.  And I can’t really say that people are obligated to provide such, since we all have our own problems in our lives, and some most certainly more severe than others, especially compared to someone else’s problems.  I think we live in a pretty screwed up times right now, everyone is a little bit more jaded, everyone is a little bit more hardened, and it’s hard to be sympathetic towards others when the world around just ourselves isn’t entirely the best it could possibly be.

It’s times like this in which, where sometimes it really feels like all I can do to not feel so bottled up is to just write it out, throw it up on the brog, and leave it to random chance to who reads it or not, and whether or not they want to do their best impression of an ear to speak into, despite the fact that I’ll likely be writing out everything I’d be saying anyway.  Nobody wants accountability anyway, so there’s no obligation, and I don’t track who reads what I write, let alone sees or acknowledges that I write, because I’m long beyond the days of obsessively tracking hits and analytics, since I always felt that such research took something away from the exercise of simply writing.

For the past two years and change, my parents have been having some marital issues.  I’m old enough to understand the situation, and not fall into the clichéd fallacy of believing that it’s by any fault of my own or my sister’s, but it still doesn’t really make it any easier to know that the relationship between my own mother and father is deteriorating, and despite their bullshit claims, is not getting better.  At this point, for the sake of their sanity, as well as for my sister and I’s as well, divorce looks to be the best possible option, and it’s got to be pretty bad when divorce is seen as a positive option.

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Koreans can be so full of shit sometimes, too

I’m in a bad, foul mood today.  I feel like writing with a little venom.

I don’t exactly remember what prompted me to think about this story, but it came into my head earlier today, and I felt like writing about it.

Koreans are notorious racists.  This probably isn’t much of a surprise to anyone reading this, considering how often times I get accused of being racist, which is probably kind of true, but I also believe that everyone alive is a racist too, whether they want to admit it or not, but the more important thing, if they act detrimentally on their feelings or not.  I don’t believe I do, so I think there are far worse people in the world than me, who finds amusement and ironic humor from the occasional tasteless remarks.

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Was the Clock King really a villain?

It makes me happy when things go the way they are supposed to, when things run smoothly.

This statement implies that the vast majority of times, things are not going the way they are supposed to, and that things are not always running smoothly, because I am not happy on a more regular basis.

Case in point: just the other night, I had a sequence of tasks planned: stop at Goodwill and drop off donation bags, eat BBQ, clean house.  Simple enough.  I get to Goodwill well within business hours, but the doors are locked and there’s a handwritten note on the door saying “BACK IN 15 MIN” as if it were a fucking lemonade stand.  I didn’t even wait 15 seconds before I left, feeling disgusted at the simple fact that there were people so incapable of doing their menial job, that they had to close shop temporarily.  As a result of this component not going the way it was supposed to go, the remainder of my tasks had to be altered somewhat, and my agenda post-errands were delayed by 15 minutes.

15 minutes doesn’t sound like a whole lot of time, but I fucking treasure my time.  That was 15 minutes I could have spent getting ahead of schedule, so that I could have more time for myself later on.  15 minutes of extra sleep in the morning goes a long way throughout the course of a day.

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