Scraped from College Humor.

Saturday was the Warrior Dash on the ski slopes of Windham.  I participated.  My apologies if you jumped to this site after reading the post over at the forum, but I haven’t had a chance to write much else since then.  If you’re not here from the forum, then you might not know that the ski slopes of Windham are actually on two mountains called Cave and West Cave – not Windham High Peak.  Here’s the post over at the forum, if you want to read the other members busting my chops in the comment thread.

Cave & W. Cave 9/18/2010

My heat/wave/whatever was at 1PM. I arrived around 10:30 or so, picked up my packet, wandered around for a bit and sat in the adirondack chairs next to some slightly toasted dude who didn’t shut up for the fifteen minutes I was there. M*sshole – go figure. The whole setup was as much a festival as it was a race. Actually, probably more so. There was a big stage with a band and a bungee jumping thingee and giant turkey legs and weirdos in costumes and all kinds of other cool stuff designed to make a drunk college kid wet himself in public.

So anyway, I watched a couple of waves go out ahead of me (on the half-hour from 8AM to 5PM) and decided that I definitely did NOT want to start in the middle of the pack (and people started lining up in the “chute” just after the last heat left). So at 12:15 I took a jog down to the bottom of the parking lot and back (because I wanted to be sweating at the starting line) and headed into the chute, threading myself up toward the front.

When the fireballs flew to send our wave off up the mountain, I hit it at a brisk pace – for the first 1/4 to 1/2 mile or so, I was probably the number 4 or 5 guy up there (there were chicks racing too, but they hadn’t started to pass me yet). The first mile and a half is up the ski slope. I think my jog only lasted for about 1/2 a mile (and yes, I might be embellishing right now, but I’m allowed to do this, as it’s MY TR ) before my chest simply couldn’t contain the awesome power of my lungs as they bellowed in and out in an effort to provide my meat suit with enough oxygen to not expire.

So yeah, I hiked the rest of the uphill part. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I DO (hike) AND I’M AWESOME AT IT. Maybe 15 or so people passed me on my hike. It was actually kind of nice, because I pretended (in my head) that I was old like mudhook and Halia & Flammeus and called everyone ‘whippersnappers’ (in my head) as they went by. Of course, because I’m such an awesome hiker (way awesomer than manofaltitude, btw), not that many people passed me, and I even passed one or two people who were ‘running’ up the hill.

The first obstacle was the tire run: maybe a dozen or fifteen tires by a dozen or fifteen tires (bungeed together). I ran over the top of them. I learned back in HS how bad that high-stepping crap sucks, so I wasn’t about to do it here. After that, it was a bit more uphill and we had to jump over a couple of wooden barriers that were about chest high (for me). Easy enough. Then we went uphill some more (shocker) before we had to crawl through these big plastic tubes. Nothing special.

Then began the downhill. I was pretty happy with the pair of trailrunners I bought for this occasion: they really held the ground well. And the ground was mainly wet grass, mud and wet rocks. I bought a pair of the Montrail Masochist model. I asked the girl at Campmor if they had the Sadist model too, but she just looked at me funny and asked for my number. We have a date at the goth club in Newark on Thursday night. I passed quite a few nervous-looking people on the downhill sections. I also credit the long hours I’ve spent in the Catskills, trying to keep up with FatVegan’s nutjob way of flying down the mountains like sticks and stones won’t break his bones. Passing those effers really felt good.

More running after that. Did I mention that running sucks? And then we had to wade through this 20-yard long pool of freezing cold water. My testicles STILL won’t talk to me. I think they’re going to be nestled among my small intestine for the rest of the winter. The water was waist-high, then chest-high, then I couldn’t touch the bottom. Freaky. I took a couple of breast-strokes (not that kind, pervert) and frog-kicked a few times, but swimming this thing really wasn’t an option. So I did that floaty-hop thing to the side, where the water was only as deep as a little bit over my waist. I did the rest of it that way. It was about 75/80 degrees outside that day and I was kind of down on myself for wearing the Under Armour cold weather spandex stuff (top and bottom), but when I got out of that water, I realized (once again) that I might possibly be the smartest human being in this miserable little solar system of yours.

After that it was more running (downhill, thankfully) and guess what – they gave us cups of water after that. Belie-dat-sh*t. I drank two. Parenthetically, and relating back to the earlier self-wetting remark, I remember thinking that either the water section or the part just after would be the perfect time to pee myself, but I didn’t really have to go and I don’t know that I could anyway, because I was running. Making it harder to pee yourself: yet another reason why running sucks.

So after that, there was a sh*tload of sidehilling (which ALSO sucks) and a couple of other obstacles not really worth mentioning – we ran over some planks across a ditch (easier than a log across a stream) and up and down some stuff. I took the short way up and down the cargo net thing because it’s a RACE, not recess. At the very end, we slid (face first) down this big slip ‘n slide, ran a couple more yards downhill, jumped over two rows of duraflames (this is where our pics got taken, so I hammed it up for the cameras I couldn’t see, per my drunk Bostonian friend’s suggestion), and then we crawled in the mud under barbed wire for 20 or so yards. There was definitely mud there, but I didn’t see any damned barbed wire – and there was no tracer fire over our heads or marines getting their heads blown off next to me, so I was nonplussed overall with this particular obstacle.

Anyway, at this point we were deemed muddy enough and only had to run another fifteen or so steps to the finish line where they handed out ‘finisher’ medals. I think I lost mine. It’s probably in my car somewhere. They gave us free water and bananas afterward, of which I partook.

My time was 36:26.10 (that’s an 11 minute mile, folks), and I placed #836 overall (out of 6,202), 139/753 in my age bracket (men 30-34), and 725/3677 of all the men competing.

Definitely not a stellar time, but I also hate running. Because it sucks. I’m happy with my performance, though. I did what I set out to do, which was burn it as hard as I could from beginning to end. I also think I managed the course pretty well, which was due in large part to my hiking experiences and the support of you good people here on the forum, without whom I never would have looked longingly at Cave and West Cave mountains and think how badass I would be if I were to climb those after having run this race.

Sadly, that was not to happen, as I got a wicked bad cramp in my left calf (which subsequently turned into a muscle pull) about 20 minutes after the whole thing was done. Still, I would have loved to have climbed those mountains on Saturday. Oh well, another time.

So yeah, running still sucks. You don’t have to go out and do the R&D – I’ve already done it for you.

Here’s the trip over at EveryTrail.

35R #1819/733W
CHH: 41/102
Grid: 86/420 (3/35 for September)
ADK: 16/46

Here’s my trip report from Saturday’s hike.   I don’t want you to think I haven’t been writing, dear reader.   I just haven’t been writing very much here.  Lots of email correspondence of late.  I normally write for an hour or two each night – yup, you guessed it:  right before I go to bed.  So sometimes you don’t get to see my words.  I’m sure you’re surviving without them.

Alien Landing & Anaconda Sighting on SW Hunter 9/11/2010

This weekend I decided to make my cat, Laila Jo Connolly, jealous and hang out with Iske & Lily in the Catskills. This naturally entailed spending some time with Halia & Flammeus. Flammeus was laid-up with a Level II Ankle Sprain, so FatVegan & I hiked with the eagle but not the owl.

We met at the Becker Hollow TH’s PA at 8:15AM. Parenthetically, I’d like to announce the FKT from Ridgewood NJ to said TH: 1:34:03.14159 – I’ve checked both VFTT and Wikipedia and have not been able to find a faster documented time. If any of you lurker n0obs belong to the NY State Police force, I am, of course, just kidding.

We signed in at the TH – Scott and I using our real names, as our trail names for one another tend to be somewhat vulgar – and headed up the blue-blazed Becker Hollow Trail, passing beneath the still-hanging widowmaker and giving it a good shove for luck and no rain. Instead of turning right onto the yellow-blazed Hunter Mountain Trail (which leads to the fire tower), we continued on to the west-facing ledge and to bag the view. It was glorious. Halia (hereinafter “Heather”) pointed out some of the viewable peaks – Peek and Table, Panther and Giant Ledge, Roundtop and KHP and Hurricane Ledge, the Burroughs Range, etc., and explained that three of the peaks form a constellation that looks exactly like a woman in repose: one being the side of her hip and the other two being her headlights. I found this to be a pretty exciting revelation and asked Heather and Scott to continue on while I “took some pictures” with my iPhone. They obliged and I now have the nagging sensation (not unlike that feeling of forgetting something) that I should be keeping my iPhone under my mattress. I’m sure it will pass.

I caught up to Scott and Heather as they headed south on the yellow-blazed Hunter Mountain Trail, and we all turned the corner onto the red-blazed Devil’s Path together. We made a right and stopped to put out the embers in the fire pit at Devil’s Acre lean-to (again – it seems that Scott and I are honorary sometime-weekend fire putter-outers at this particular LT. The LT is in sore need of a broom. Maybe the Catskill 4000 Club can donate one?

We continued on to make a left at the unblazed but very clearly defined (by cairn at the TH) and well-maintained Leavitt Mountain Trail along the old railbed. Scott and I were tired from the navigation-intense hike and, being ardent feminists, suggested that Heather lead us to the cansiter. She did a bang-up job of leading the bushwack and we all signed in to the canister a few minutes later.

We retraced our steps on the way out and had a nice conversation with a couple of fellow hikers back at the DALT, who were enjoying a couple of Coors tallboys in the shade of the LT. None of us said anything about their Timbos and Keds, because we’re Stewards of the Catskills and have to act the part. Besides, the dude was wearing a Yankee jacket and we’re damned Yankees too.

Realizing that Heather was going to be late for work, we kept the conversation short and boogied on up to the fire tower. On the way, with Scott and the dogs in the lead, we passed a massive anaconda that tried to bite my head off with its jaws of evil death. The dogs being oblivious and Scott being vegan, they walked right over it, but when Heather spotted it, she bravely (and properly, to her woods cred), yelled “Snake!” and shoved me into the underbrush before it was able to wrap its deadly coils around me. As I lay cowering in the dirt, she spoke Indian to it in a firm tone (like Native American Indian, not subcontinent Indian) and it slithered off the trail. At this point, Scott had rushed back and was able to place a vegan curse upon its back with his fingers. He says it will bond with the nearest tree and become completely non-violent within a fortnight.

When I finally stopped shaking and had managed to clean most of the poo from my Louis Vuitton hiking pants with my biodegradable trail money, Heather explained that it was, in fact, just a little garter snake. I thought it had markings more akin to a timber rattler, but Heather explained that garter snakes aren’t just black-and-yellow, but rather that god paints them in many colors, because Allah loves wondrous variety.

And so, with a strident cry of “To the trees!” we headed off to complete our journey to the fire tower.

There were a handful of people there when we arrived and Scott and I got busy opening the windows and such in the cabin, while Heather opened the fire tower itself and did her interpreter-thing. We spent the next several hours at the summit. Scott and I deputized ourselves deputy tenders, which basically entailed telling people that it was ok to walk into the cabin (when they were tentatively poking their heads in), as long as they don’t try to make soup. We brandished also brandished our big knives when unnecessary or when someone asked a question that wasn’t answered in either Heather’s training or in the interpreter’s handbook. Nobody reported seeing any fires, so we figure we did a pretty good job.

I only heard one person say “OMG! YOU’RE Heather Rolland – like, the author! I thought you’d be taller.” (and they literally said ‘OMG’, not ‘oh my god’ – I have no idea how they got the hyperlink into the statement), but my bionic hearing was on the fritz that day, so it’s possible that it happened more than just that one time.

At this point, I’d like to take the time to publicly thank the Catskill 400 Club for donating the toilet seat in the privy at the summit of Hunter Mountain. It was incredibly warm and clean when I availed myself of it. No reading material, but that’s ok because I’m a fast pooper.

Scott took a nice long nap and Heather and I pored over the VO map hanging on the wall of the cabin, trying to come up with hikes that would be painful enough to cause us to find another pastime. We think we have a few good ones for the winter, so don’t quit the forum yet.

On the summit, I also spent some time flipping through the menu items on my brand-new Garmin 60CSX, trying to figure out how on god’s green and beautiful earth the data fields were reading an average speed of 500-something mph and that we had traveled well over 3,000 miles so far. I have come to the tentative conclusion that Iske and Lily were sent by an ancient alien race to study humans, and that at some point during the hike they used their alien magic on us to put us to sleep and transport us to another dimension – about 2,994 miles away – where they would be better able to observe us. Putting together the facts from the movie “Earth Girls Are Easy” and the prodigious amount of time Iske spent making out with me on the summit (don’t hate), I am confident enough in my hypothesis to announce it publicly and willing enough to back it up in a duel with laser swords.

We headed back down around 4:30 or so and met Flammeus (who we simply call “Tom”) and Maya and Caitlin at Brio’s in Phoenicia for dinner. We noticed Snickers’ car in the parking lot and were delighted to see Cindy and Brian in the restaurant – freshly showered, as always – so we plunked our stinky asses into chairs at their table (well, we’re pretty sure Tom’s, Maya’s and Caitlin’s weren’t stinky as they appeared to be recently showered as well). We all had a lovely dinner together, at which Cindy extolled the virtues of the BLM fire tower and suggested that Scott and I might like to volunteer to become fire tower tenders as well. We responded that we’re still researching the topic (Red Hill and Tremper have already made very generous offers and Overlook as been courting us for some time now, but we will, of course give preferential treatment to forum members and 3500 Club compatriots).

So yeah, that was our day. Two more for the grid and a wonderful time spent with other 3500 Club members and random visitors to the fire tower. Scott didn’t get to consecrate the fire tower in the name of Lord Shiva the Destroyer, but that’s only because I forgot to bring the salt and entrails. =/

Oh, and Laila Jo wasn’t the least bit jealous when I got home. Here’s the trip over at EveryTrail, btw.

Marcy, Haystack, Basin, Saddleback, Yard, Big Slide

Linqs: Thursday, Friday.

I can’t believe it’s Thursday night and I’m just now sitting down to write a TR about hikes from last Thursday and Friday. I’ll keep this short – not because I can’t remember back that far (accident with some chemicals in college), but because I’m tired and want to go to bed (where I can dream of my pretty, pretty lists).

I took last W-F off from work and headed up to the Adirondacks to get some fresh air and clear my head and find some peace in the world via silence and maybe some physical pain. And mountains. I love those.

Drove up from NNJ on Wednesday, parked at Garden, and hiked in about 3.4 or so miles to the Wm. G. Howard lean-to, arriving around 5:30PM. I knew I was in the right place when I saw this:

I mean this:

I packed about three days of food, as I was not sure when I’d be coming out of the closet I mean woods. There were already two bedrolls in the lean-to when I arrived, so I shoved them into a corner and claimed the rest of the lean-to for myself by peeing out a big rectangle around my territory. At about 9PM, I saw some headlamps coming down the trail – I figured they were either my bunkies or that Yellow-Yellow et al. had finally figured out the flashlight thing. I put on my camo greasepaint, pulled out my flat black KA-BAR and lay in wait for them while smoking a cigarette where the fire pit used to be.

They turned out not to be bears, so I had to talk English for a while, which was a bummer because I’d been practicing my Canadian all week long. The two who came up the trail were none other than Wally and Annette, whom I’d never met before and who are also not members of this forum, so they don’t have cool handles like the rest of us. They were pretty cool people, though, and we stayed up for a while and told bear and hiking stories (I stayed silent for the bear part because I don’t yet have any of those and I don’t like to tell fibs to strangers – ok, that’s a lie).

Thursday morning I hit the trail around 7AM and was on the summit of Marcy by 10:30. I had the summit all to myself, so I took a few pictures and vids. I didn’t think to strip down naked and run around the summit with a rubber glove on my head yelling “I’m a squid! I’m a squid!” until I was about halfway back down the mountain, but I did call my sister Katie to say hi. I was somewhat disappointed that I didn’t meet a summit steward =( as I really wanted to ask how to get to Roostercomb and Hegehog.

On the way up Marcy, I took care of some much needed trail maintenance by removing all of the spiderwebs with my face. No, there’s no need to thank me, that’s just what I do. I see it as my contribution to the hiking community.

I went back down the way I came up Marcy and headed up the trail to Haystack (via Little Haystack), stopping briefly to put some moleskin on a hotspot on one of my feet. Again, I had the summit to myself, and again, I stayed clothed. I also descended this mountain via the way I ascended, prompting me to think that everyone who’s ever said they did a “Great Range Traverse” wasn’t really traversing at all, but rather doing a series of out&backs.

Yes, my goal for that day was a full “traverse” and, no, I did not complete it – opting instead simply for a tough hike and some friendly conversation along the way (as well as the general relaxing feeling of having nowhere to go and all day to get there). Betwen Haystack and Basin, I stopped at the Haystack Brook to refill my water receptacles. Aside from the Johns Brook, that was really the only water worth pumping I saw all day – and if I hadn’t bumped into this guy named Dan from Brooklyn-via-DC, I probably would have passed right by it: the brook was barely ankle deep and maybe a foot or two across at the most. I hear we’ve been having a dry summer.

I chatted with Dan for a bit and headed up Basin with him. This was his first time in the ‘dacks and he was hiking with a full pack. I thought he did admirably well on his ascent of Basin. At the summit, we met a guy named Dennis, who was staying at JBL, and whom I had passed that morning on the veranda of said L on my way to Marcy. I chatted with Dennis for a bit at the summit of Basin and headed off to Saddleback.

There’s one section of Saddleback just before the summit that entails some hands-and-feet climbing that really scared the crap out of me. It was well marked and I didn’t see another way up the rocks, but I felt like I was in some twisted game of Twister, trying to figure out where to put my hands and feet. I was sorely tempted to go back and tell Dan not to attempt it with his big pack.

After Saddleback, I headed down the trail between that and Gothics, passing Ore Bed LT on the way, and then to my LT. I was sore and tired; it was a good day. I must have sweated out all the caffeine in my system, because I had a very strange headache for the last couple of miles that was only cured by a cup of coffee at the LT. Addiction can be rough sometimes.

I talked into the night with Wally and Annette – Wally’s been hiking in the ‘dacks for well over 20 years and we traded lots of stories. He told me that our talk made him feel like old times – that something’s different about the LTs without the fire pits; people don’t seem to be as friendly or ready to converse – and that made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

I slept in on Friday morning and made my way up Yard and Big Slide, starting around 10:30AM – still sore from the day before. On the way up Yard, I met a nice threesome of long distance runners, so I of course felt pressured to display my woods cred and stay ahead of them. I arrived at the summit of Big Slide about half an hour before they did (we all snuck off the trail to tag the true summit of Yard), so everyone here in the forum can be proud of me for showing their n00bie *sses how real hikers do it. Hard, fast and uphill in the woods. At the summit, I pointed out several of the visible peaks that I recognized and made up the rest. They were very impressed and I told them all about the wealth of knowledge on this forum. =) I also said it was ok for them to just lurk and not actually post – I hope that’s cool with everyone here. We all walked down Big Slide together; I turned off at my LT to pack up my big pack and head out, and they went straight for Garden.

On the way out, I met a cute forest ranger named Grace and we chatted for a bit. Thankfully, she was too slow with the bow saw to actually bring the large branch she was cutting down on my head, and I even managed to slip her my number while she wasn’t looking (I’m also a ninja, btw). I dropped all the names of forest rangers that Wally had mentioned to me in our previous conversations, so that I could be sure that Grace would be duly impressed with my impressive woods cred. She hasn’t called yet, but I figure she’s just being coy – which I find to be wicked sexy. Had we but world enough and time, I’d continue this TR and regale you with my adventures on the hike back to the PA, but I don’t want to scare anyone away from hiking in the Adirondacks.

So, to end on an up-note: I’m still single and all you ladies reading this can tell your girlfriends that I’m rich too.

35R #1819/733W
CHH: 41/102
Grid: 84/420 (?/35 for September)
ADK: 17/46

Here’s a truly heartwarming story about the bond formed between a little 5-year-old girl and some construction workers that makes you believe that we CAN make a difference when we give a child the gift of our time.

A young family moved into a house next door to a vacant lot. One day a construction crew turned up to start building a house on the empty lot.  The young family’s 5-year-old daughter naturally took an interest in all the activity going on next door and spent much of each day observing the workers.

Eventually the construction crew, all of them gems-in-the-rough, more or less adopted her as a kind of project mascot. They chatted with her, let her sit with them while they had coffee and lunch breaks, and gave her little jobs to do here and there to make her feel important.   At the end of the first week they even presented her with a pay envelope containing a couple of dollars.

The little girl took this home to her mother who said all the appropriate words of admiration and suggested that they take the two dollar “pay” she had received to the bank the next day to start a savings account.

When they got to the bank, the teller was equally impressed and asked the little girl how she had come by her very own pay check at such a young age. The  little girl proudly replied, “I worked last week with the crew building the house next door to us.

My goodness gracious,” said the teller, “and will you be working on the house again this week, too?”

The little girl replied, “I will if those assholes at Home Depot ever deliver the fucking sheet rock…”

Stories like this just bring a tear to your eye.

Here’s the email exchange between Brian, Scott and me.  I’m mostly in the background, laughing mfao:

Brian:  Yo Ted – what’s up with the blog dogs?  I feel like I can’t get my morning started without reading some shit.  What’s up?  You been busy?

Scott:  That fool has been living at work get a newspaper read that

Brian:  Dude it’s not the same.  I have to read about how Ted’s love life sucks or how many mountains he climbed this weekend or at least a new infographic to learn about some stupid bullshit.

Scott:  Me and Scott The Fat Vegan hiked Rusk Mtn. this past Saturday it was a straight up bushwhack but we were ready for it.  It was only about 4 miles but seemed much further cause of the bushwhack part.  It was fun to watch Scotts fat ass just push through the thick pines knowing trees down and and almost breaking his neck every five feet he’s good for that.  We reached the summit around noon then headed over to East Rusk just in case it was part of the Catskill Hundred highest which it wasn’t I found out later that it was PUD (pointless up and down).  We got back to the car and headed home. 

On Sunday we took three guys from Union City out on a hike for our fresh air fund project.  We hiked about 4 miles inside palisades state park.  They only feel a couple times and made it out alive and we got back to the car right before it started pouring out.

Other than that I have been swamped at work this being the peak of the proxy season which also means no dating not that I would be on a date cause E Harmony sucks the big dirty dongus.  But if any of you want to get jiggy with it and are under a hundred pounds I’m open to that.  Well I’m off to bed morning comes early these days.

Brian:  Dude that’s hilarious.  Thanks for that.  Did you & Ted rape those Union guys in the woods?  I’m sure that’s part of the program.

Seriously folks, this is important:

[Source: Medical Billing and
Coding]

I’ve been giggling my ass off all night long.  And I’ve got Bob Marley playing on the stereo right now.

No, dear reader, I’m not pulling tubes in my apartment.  I’ve been having a great time on facebook with my buddy Matt Helmick (@IntegralHack on Twitter), and for whatever reason, I can’t blog to Marley.  I have no idea why, but my thoughts just don’t stay on track when he’s in the background.  I know these CDs back-to-front, so one would think it would be as meditative for me as anything else, but it’s just not.

Anyway, Matt and I bumped into one another via the yoga circles on Twitter.  After spending some time slinging 140 character one-liners back and forth, he found me on facebook.  And facebook’s functionality has definitely trumped Twitter as far as cross-country friendship-building possibilities go.

So yeah, before this gets to be sounding too gay – frig, I lost my train of thought again.  Damn you, Bob.

Oh yeah:  Matt and I have three fellow mateys on facebook (read: three friends in common – I view facebook in English (Pirate), so I don’t see things quite like you do):  Andrei Codrescu, Liz Wilhite and Jennilyn Carson.  Jennilyn came first – she also travels in the Twitter yoga circles as @yogadork; her blog is on my blogroll (down and to the right).

Andrei is some author for the New York Times or some such publication for The Man – I don’t remember.  I think Matt, Liz and I were going back and forth in Matt’s facebook comments about something Andrei wrote – so I friended him and passed his link along to them.  Liz and Matt are friends IRL, I think.  Somewhere in there, I friended Liz as well – her comments and status updates are dry and witty and totally fits her url slug “Satirica”.  Awesome.  I just noticed that.

I’ve been meaning to ask Liz for a cake recipe or two.

This evening, Matt’s sister Wendi posted a comment in the thread that Liz and I were in.  I chanced to mention to Matt that Wendi is H4WT, and he suggested a sister-swap.  Being ever the gentleman and protective brother I am, I of course declined, but said that I would certainly friend-suggest my favorite sister Katie (who always brings the awesomeness) to him, that we might have more fellow mateys.  Which I did.

And to my surprise, Matt also suggested Wendi as a possible swashbucklin’ matey fer me!  Will wonders never cease.  I am continually astounded at the bounteous synchronicity of this Universe.  It’s honestly a wonder that I’m still agnostic.

So if everything works as the Universe seems to have planned – totally independent of any meddling on our parts – Matt and I will, sometime in the near future, have 5 fellow mateys.  Oh frabjous day, caloo calay!

KATIE IF YOU DON’T FRIEND MATT I’M GOING TO SET YOUR CAR ON FIRE *AFTER* I COVER IT IN BOLOGNA.

Seriously.  I know you’re logged in to facebook right now.  JUST DO IT.

Stupid reggae.  Where was I?  Huh.  I totally lost my train of thought.  Again.

In any case, I’m off to bed now, to lay my head a-rest on that sweet pillow of balance in the Universe – the pillowcase being gratitude, of course.

I’ve been feeling like I’m halfway getting a cold over the past couple of days.  On Monday, my head felt a bit congested – but not in my sinuses, kind of like over my ears.  You know, where my brain should be filling the space?  I don’t get it, but it was worse today:  I felt kind of like my head was in a wind tunnel or under water all day.  Very disorienting.

So yeah, I obviously can’t come up with anything interesting to write about tonight, so how about some craisgslist scrapings of mine?  For the past month or so, I’ve been posting in the “missed connections” section.  The internet dating sites I’m on are kind of boring right now, so I figured I’d try something new.

Re: Happy Birthday Again – m4w (berkeley)
You: The birthday girl.
Me: The clown your parents hired.
When you sat on my lap for the picture, holding the balloon bicycle wheel I twisted for you, I thought I’d start crying. But you did first. That was SO hot. Let’s do it again.

Re: FULL MOON – m4w (mission district)
I’m the guy with the face paint and the “I <3 Fat Bitches” t-shirt. You laughed and pointed me out to your friends. I want to feed you.

you dropped your phone downtown – m4w – 19 (santa cruz)
…and I picked it up. You wiped my palm-sweat off on that oh-so-sexy leg of your jeans. I started to say something just as you did and we both stopped and turned away. I think you’re as shy as me. Let’s meet again, I have plenty more sweat and maybe some words this time.

asian girl sjsu 4th st parking garage – m4w – 23 (san jose downtown)
I was jacking that beemer, lol. I still have it. Want a ride, emo girl?

Lavender at Target – m4w – 27 (concord / pleasant hill / martinez)
I’m not gay, I was just trying out my Halloween costume. I told you that, but I don’t think you believed me. I can prove it. Srsly. Find me.

To the beautiful woman who smiled outside WF – m4w (campbell)
I want you SO bad. My loins scream your name. Please, please tell me your name so I can shut them up.

Mezzanine after lovefest in VIP – m4w – 25 (Sf / lovefest )
I know you’re a hottie under that handlebar. Lady Gaga’s got nothing on you. Tell me that dude in the beard you were making out with was just a one-time thing. I think I love you, and that’s forever.

PS: I have your sequined boxers. Want ‘em back?

Ladies – m4w (hollister)
Hey I’m 18 in Ridgewood NJ looking for a girl just to do some thing with you know. Nothing serious just fun hit me up girls

Janey from Match.com – m4w 32 (the city)
I’m not paying for that stupid site when the only one for me is you. Please respond. I’m rich.

to the cute girl who works at the library – m4w (berkeley)
You could be a pr0n star. Srsly. I can make it happen. Just U n me tho. Cam first, I don care. Want U so bad, sexy liberrian.

Bachelorette Party at Cabo Wabo Sunday – m4w – 27 (South Lake Tahoe)
Your friends did body shots off me, but you didn’t want to touch another man. I can respect that kind of fidelity. That’s exactly what I want, but can never seem to find. Come on, baby, drop the zero and get with the hero. My studio awaits…

Regarding Fate – m4w – 22 (the city)
Look, I know your brother’s my best friend, but what we share can’t be denied. You know who this is. I’ll wait for you 3 blocks down from where the school bus lets you off. He can’t pick you up this week and it’s supposed to rain, so nobody’ll say boo when I bring you home all wet.

What I didn’t realize until about a week ago was that I’ve been posting these on the San Francisco Bay page of craigslist.  I got like three responses, but the pics were horrible.  I’m talking throw-up-on-my-keyboard horrible.  Oh well, it’s a start.  I think I’m getting the hang of it.  I posted a handful on the nyc page tonight, but I’m not going to share them with you just yet, dear reader, because I don’t want to jinx myself.

Ok.  So let’s get some safety stuff out of the way before we learn how to properly stalk someone on the internet.  Internet stalking is not for the uninitiated and should only be attempted by an amateur.  Professional stalkers are spooky and creepy and you should watch out for them.  They can also be dangerous (especially if they’re total strangers).  If you think you’re the victim of internet stalking by a complete stranger, here are some links to check out:  Cyberstalking FAQ, Info, and Cyber-911 Tiplines.

Now, all that aside, there’s also plenty on the web regarding how to stalk someone the right way.  Surprisingly (or not), most of the posts I found are by women.  Bonnie Burton’s suggestions are here at “Relationships 101: How to Stalk Without Being Creepy“; also check out former Boston College student Christina Bechold’s 2004 piece ”How To:  Stalk Your Crush“, and Sarah Austin’s (nee Meyers) short 2007 piece “How To:  Stalk on the Internet“.  I haven’t tried CoComment myself, but (frankly) it makes me a bit nervous.

Teenager Marco also has some words of wisdom in his (also 2004) piece “How To Stalk Me” – “All I ask is that you do it properly. I have prepared some simple instructions and guidelines to ensure the best quality stalking experience for both of us.”

Wikipedia has an article here, though it’s not as comprehensive as one might expect.

The above links should get you started.  For myself, I prefer to avoid any possibility of detection – even though a particular route is more likely to garner more (useful) information.  For example, don’t “follow” someone on Twitter, just flip to their page every once in a while – it’s not as efficient, but just as effective while preserving one’s anonymity.

Problems occur here and there when two people stalk one another.  This can make for awkward and uncomfortable situations replete with BS excuses.  In such situations, I find honesty to be the best policy – people rarely admit to “stalking”, so the other party usually thinks I’m joking.

Sent to The Quixotic Jedi by my buddy Fernando. 

I Hate Your Blog

I hate your blog.
It’s incredibly
terrible and bad.

I hate your blog. You own a dog, and you feed it.
You post about it. I get to read it.
Plus: five paragraphs on the socks you bought
and your thoughts on whether Nicole Ritchie’s hot or not.
You got no reason to be typing, yet you persist.
Hit each key with your fist till you punch out your top ten list
of all the things that ever happened in your life.
Number one: met Michael Jackson’s second wife.
Number two: got Curly on the Which Stooge Are You
Poll, as the GIF proves. Click for the link-through!
Three: saw puppy pictures on a web page,
kittens in a nest egg. The idea gestated:
Why not open up your own?
So you bought the account and yet I hope you don’t
put the payments in on it every month like they want,
‘cause then you’ll disappear off the internet, haunt
just the Wayback Machine like a ghost.
And I won’t be like, “How come you don’t post??”
I promise I won’t.

I hate your blog. Your recipe for vegan eggnog is stupid.
I hissed and I booed it,
and then eschewed it, never made it once. Yes,
your blog roll is a confederacy of dunces.
It abuts less interesting links in your posts.
Hamsters that dance! I’m not engrossed.
I’m not opposed to your collection of All Your Base pics,
but they’re longer in the denture than a ninja flipping out doing face kicks.
I’ll phrase this nice:
if it’s hard to get to bed, your web site will suffice
to entice me to slumber. I mumble impoliticly,
“I tried not to click ‘read more’ but you tricked me!”
Want to stick the whole computer in the trash can
instead of reading about the constipation lately and your ass plans
that you seem to contemplate.
You thought I would rate your page ‘awesome’ and ‘great’?

[Whoremoans]
You’re just jealous. Yeah, that’s it — envious, even.
Turning green when my hit counter broke ten thousand this evening.
Mad you cant match my keypad content
or petitions for legalizing of micropayment thieving.
X-rays of teething eight-month heathens and pictures of kittens heaving,
the calories in everything I’m eating,
yaoi art my girl drew of Goku making out with Joss Whedon,
my 300-pound friend’s exposure (that’s indecent).
But that’s only negatives.
I’ve got discussions on the homeliest alien relative.
The final battle, Sam Cassell versus Carnage
and a triple-threat match: Charles v. Marilyn v. Shirley Manson from Garbage.
I pay homage to great Americans like Bill O’Reilly and Ann Coulter;
Westwood Radio for help when insulting countercultures.
My blog stands above all others by head and shoulders.

I hate your blog. You ain’t logged in in a month and a half,
and I, for one, am aghast.
I mean I’m fast on the way to removing it from bookmarks.
If I took part in vanity I might be trying to look smart
by not checking eight times a day.
Your blog is so despair-inducing I can’t bear to look away.
Oh, well! Got to do what your muse compels.
Guess I’ll try to go despise a blog by someone else.

 SOCIALISM

You have 2 cows.

You give one to your neighbor.

COMMUNISM

You have 2 cows.

The State takes both and gives you some milk.

FASCISM

You have 2 cows.

The State takes both and sells you some milk.

NAZISM

You have 2 cows.

The State takes both and shoots you.

BUREAUCRATISM

You have 2 cows.

The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other,

and then throws the milk away…

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM:

You have two cows.

You sell one and buy a bull.

Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.

You sell them and retire on the income.

SURREALISM

You have two giraffes.

The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.

AN AMERICAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.

Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.

AN INVESTMENT BANK

You have two cows.

You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using

letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank,

then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general

offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows.

A FRENCH CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.

A JAPANESE CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called ‘Cowkimon’ and market it worldwide.

A GERMAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.

AN ITALIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows, but you don’t know where they are. You decide to have lunch.

A RUSSIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You count them and learn you have five cows.

You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.

You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.

You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.

A SWISS CORPORATION

You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you.

You charge the owners for storing them.

A BRITISH CORPORATION

You have two cows.

Both are mad.

AN IRAQI CORPORATION

Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.

You tell them that you have none.

No-one believes you, so they bomb the s–t out of you and invade your country.

You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy…

AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.

Business seems pretty good.

You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.

CHINESE CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You have 300 people milking them.

You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity.

You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.

MEXICAN CORPORATION

You have two cows

They are located in Ciudad Juarez

They somehow cross the U.S./Mexico border

You cross into the border and claim both the land and cows

The cows receive U.S. taxpayer benefits for the milk they produce, while the milk goes back to Mexican residents

AN ISLAMIC CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You commit suicide

Because Islamic law forbids you being associated with cows.

CANADIAN CORPORATION

Eh…you have two cows.

Dis too cold to produce melk from these eh cows.

Yet’s jus sell dem to da yoooesss….

AFRICAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.

They are both thin and sick.

You ask the world to send you more cows.

The despotic dictator takes the cows to feed himself and his army

and throw the bones and skin to the starving masses

while television crews demand that the West “do something”…

REDNECK OWNERS

You have two cows.

You and your buddies tip them over at night

And use them in the county fair.

SUBURBAN OWNERS

You have two cows.

They make a great stand for you widescreen TV.

REPUBLICAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.

You donate them to charity because…

DEMOCRAT CORPORATION

..Democrats complained of unfairness, and demanded that Republicans share their cows.

So they did, and Republicans apologized for it, now Republicans are out of business while the Democrats’ cows are prosperous from gov’t subsidies

LIBERTARIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.

Grazing on hemp.

You have armed guards protecting them

And a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign around them.

GREEN PARTY CORPORATION

You HAD two cows.

You are growing tofu plants instead.

Because cows contribute to global warming

And the McDonald’s corporation.