Have You Ever? Of Course You Have...

OK. So I've had a blog for about a week and I'm already slacking - Sounds like an enterprise I'm used to backing. Just like my bout with the dream journal (which was way too incriminating to have laying around my room). Just like the time I saw Rounders and I swore I was going to read every poker book available and morph into some Doyle Brunson-styled, whiskey drinking, calm demeanor having Texas Holdem dynamo of a card shark whose tight lips never moved unless, of course, a rube sat down at the table, at which point a delicate crease would form around my left (and only) dimple and the corner of my mouth would turn slightly upward as I'd soak in the situation, eight moves ahead of everyone. Just like the stencil business I baked up one night while I was baked, I mean, honestly, who can resist a cool stencil. And moreover, who wouldn't want to drop $3.99 on the ability to draw this No Puffin image wherever they please?

Exactly, its the boldest stoke of genius yet. And yet I'm just sitting on it.

One day... One day my friends...

OK. So we've all played that lame "Never Have I Ever" drinking game where girls feign shame for their sexual experience, sordid eccentricities are revealed and the resultant giggling can be heard for miles. As an aside, I love girls who get pissed off halfway through the game and try to one up their girlfriends with nuggets like "Never Have I Ever... let three members of the baseball team as well as a visiting high school junior from Alexandria rail me at the top of the stairs at the SPE house after bars while I was simulcast live over the internet two weekends ago." Never fails. High comedy. Anyway, I'm proposing something different. In a Seinfeld inspired move, I'm laying down a couple of observations about myself in the "Have you ever" format. Feel free to post a reply to this with one of your own. They are actually kinda fun to do, in that humbling kinda way...

Have you ever sat cross-legged (or Injun-style for all you insensitive types) for a pronounced period of time, and then, for some odd reason leapt up with the intentions of making haste? However, you've unwisely disregarded the possibility that the foot you have been sitting on for the past 25 minutes may have fallen asleep. Well, it has. And you drop as quickly as you rose after what can only be described as a 5-meter dash/limp/buckle/thud. Then all the people in the hallway immediately stop, mid-sentence, and crane their heads toward your crumbled assemblage of parts on the ground (some more alert than others). You sit there, acutely aware of all the eyes, the whispers, the muffled chortles... Naturally, your first reaction is to delegate your entire focus towards the offending hoof by repeatedly punching it while you mumble obscenities in a futile effort to rouse it. Well... its happened me. Good times.

Have you ever been so overtaken with such genuine fervor that you have bellowed out an exclamation of joy (in my case, a deep, drawn-out "Yeahhhhhhhhh") and felt compelled to high-five the person sitting next to you? Well, have you ever done it in a packed movie theater? Apparently, for me, witnessing an act of demonstrative retribution at the end of a film (when Darth Maul gets cut in half... at the end of the movie Hostel...) causes me to pump my fist proudly in the air irregardless of my surroundings. I'm basically the reason people shuffle out of movie houses discussing the plot devices, the funny parts, the actors acumen and then, when there is a lull, one of them causally muses to the other, "What was up with that jackass sitting in front of us..."

OK, I'm done...

You're Up...