Well, at least I think I’m funny.

It never occurred to me during all my time and effort searching for a job that I could make a career out of wandering; drifting if you will. But recently this occupation has fascinated me and so I have decided to take some steps down a new career path.

I guess I will have to grow a beard. Though typically drifter beards aren’t huge like Santa Clause they are always substantial enough to appear unshaven for at least a few weeks. Hopefully I’ll get some sort of weird disease so my beard ends up patchy, or maybe I can get an animal to create a nest in it. The biggest key will be to keep my face constantly smudged with dirt. I don’t want to overdo it but a face that is grimy and has twigs and stuff in the beard would be ideal.

Hitch hiking is going to have to become a central focus in my life too. That’ll be kind of nice though. I won’t have to worry about MTA strikes or buying metro cards. People are always willing to pick-up a grungy dude with his thumb out, that’s my experience. I’d also get to ride in lots of different types of cars and make people feel uncomfortable. Am I dangerous? Am I safe? Oh you poor schlub, if only you knew. For this reason I would constantly have one of those hand-shake shocker things on my right hand.

Maybe I’ll get a parrot too…I know they’re not typically part of the attire but it seems right. Plus that’ll be a good way to attract my victims.

“Hey buddy, come check out my parrot!” *stab* “loser.”

Then I could teach the parrot to eat humans. That’d be pretty cool. I wouldn’t have to dispose of the bodies…though I guess my parrot would be pretty fat. I don’t know how cool it is to have a fat parrot.

This parrot looks kinda lazy too. I wouldn’t want a fat parrot to also be lazy. That just doesn’t seem right to me, a real-life drifter whose companion is a parrot with high cholesterol and diabetes.

The coolest part about being a drifter isn’t the fowl though, it’s the weaponry. I imagine I’d have a huge Rambo-type knife. This is basically just a large serrated blade with holes in it. I don’t know what the holes are for, maybe blowing bubbles. Not that I’d be in the bubble-blowing mood much as a drifter, but I guess blowing bubbles isn’t so bad. Kind of relaxing. Although I’m not sure where I’d keep the solution. I could just use the blood dripping from my prey’s entrails. That’d be kind of cool. And still tough. That’s what every drifter needs, a tough way to blow bubbles.

You’ll notice this knife is fairly bad-ass. It’s a good thing that I would never have enough money to afford a plane ticket. I’m sure this knife would cause some trouble…trouble that ended with the slaughter of hundreds of innocent people and me blowing bubbles.

I’ll probably get a gun as well though, you know, just in case I’m not within stabbing range. It wouldn’t be anything fancy and I certainly wouldn’t have a holster for it. I’d just jam it down the front of my pants or roll it up in some rags and keep it in my bag. That last one would probably work out best. That way I could endear myself to people and then one day when lovingly caring for my laundry…

Housewife: I love caring for our Drifter’s laundry. Especially since my husband is dead. Here’s a pile of tattered rags in the bottom of his old military C-bag. I’ll just get these ready for wash–*gasp*

Then she’d yell at me for endangering her and her son and I’d apologize but explain to her I’d fallen in love with her and would like to be her sons new daddy. Then she’d get all excited and happy and then I’d shoot her. If you pick up a drifter, don’t go through their personal belongings you are very likely to get shot if you do. You know the old saying: Curiosity made you find the Drifter’s gun and in turn he shot you with it.

My attire would be strictly real messed up jeans (like the ones people pay $300 for, only mine would actually be dirty and messed up and probably from a salvation army), a trench coat, also very dirty, and a t-shirt that just said “bad-ass” also torn and dirty. In my bag I’d keep food, my gun wrapped in rags, some rope, and birdseed for my parrot. I also may keep an eye-patch in there in case I lose an eye. I think the only difference between a Drifter and a Pirate anway is that one is on the ocean and the other one has a parrot.

If you see me wandering around with my thumb out, you know what to do. Pull on over! You just might be the person that reforms me and discovers that I’m really a beautiful person inside…but most likely you’ll end up in my fat lazy parrot’s belly. Not that my belly is that of a fat lazy parrot, but my actual parrot, in his belly.

The bathroom in my office isn’t really in my office, it’s down the hall. It’s shared with the other offices on my floor and to keep hobos out, each office is given a key.

I’ve used the bathroom everyday I’ve worked (or almost everyday) at least once yet for some reason didn’t notice the hilarity that was lurking there in the form of a ridiculous sign. Today, as I was forced to use a stall* for…shall we say, not its intended purpose, I noticed it. Above the toilet, the following sign is posted:

In case you’re blind…or…something, here’s what the sign says:

I was just thinking about what kinds of stuff I would have the gall to ask for this year if my parents were obscenely wealthy. I figured I’d share it with you all.

Rickenbacker 4003 Bass Guitar, $1,079 - McCartney eventually switched to one of these bad boys in the late 60’s. Granted this isn’t the vintage model, but afterall, I’m not that greedy.

Sony’s PCMD1, $1,850 - This little guy boasts a mini X-Y pair of mic’s that are designed to make master quality recordings in a miniature package. Holy crap. This thing would be the ultimate for sampling, bootlegging, and recording yourself…and it would sound awesome at that.

Apple’s Power PC G5, $3,499 - Okay, I know they’re coming out with new intel-based machines soon, but seriously. This thing would be so awesome to have its not even funny.

Apple’s 30″ Hi-Def Cinema Display, $2,499 - What the hell else would you hook up to the G5?

Focus Firestone FS-4 DTE Recorder, $800 - You hook this techno-wonder up to your camcorder and it acts as a portable hard drive. Except it catalogs everything for you and makes getting ready to edit a breeze. Deathblow would be amazing.

John Mayer’s Signature Stratocaster, $1,400 - A big part of my raving fanaticism for John Mayer is his awesome guitar sound. It’s quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever heard come from a guitar. I also like that the guitar neck is thin so you can wrap your thumb around there real good. Nice work John.

The new BMW M6, $100,000 - This car isn’t out yet in the states so I don’t think there’s a price yet. But since the M5 starts at $81,900, I figure $100K is a fair guess. Sporting a V10 engine, this is basically a race car…a race car that you can drive around town and smoke people in. It also happens to be a gorgeous piece of machinery. I don’t know if the link takes you to the car specifically, but do yourself a favor and take the 3 seconds to check it out.

Sony HDR-FX1, $3,700 - This video camera I would probably not even know how to use. Luckily that doesn’t matter. It’ll just end up in my closet and my incredibly wealthy parents would have to buy me a new one next year. However, I do know it records in Hi-Def and, again, Deathblow would just be amazing.

Martin DC Trey Anastasio Acoustic Guitar, $4, 099 - While certainly nothing specially and by no means the most expensive acoustic guitar, it would suit my purposes. Thanks guy from Phish. Wood from Italy and India is cool.

Although it is by no means complete, this list is defintitely a good start to the happiest Christmas of my life. Also, any accompanying amps to the electric guitar and bass would be appreciated in case you’re taking notes. If you’re not sure of a brand, just say “Marshall.” Thanks daddykins, tah.

I can’t believe I haven’t posted about this yet, but better late than never.

At the end of November John Mayer’s newest album, TRY!, came out. It’s a live effort and it accredits all members of the group’s name: The John Mayer Trio. Steve Jordan is on drums and Pino Palladino is playing bass.

For those of you who turn up your nose at the thought of Mayer - insisting he’s “too poppy” or immature, you really need to check out this album. The instrumentation is akin to that of The Cream, and The Jimi Hendrix Experience, and I have to say Mayer’s work fits in well with that crowd.

Heavily blues influenced, Mayer thrashes away on his guitar while his bass player (Palladino) thumps away with a muted sound much like Tower of Power or Ugly Americans. Steve Jordan is great at setting grooves fast and slow. He reminds me a lot of the Roots drummer Quest Love. Mayer’s licks are catchy and dirty and his tunes, while not as chordally structured as his first two albums, are fantastic. They are different, fresh, and still manage to be a throwback to the blues-based trios of the past.

One of the great things I find about all of Mayer’s work are his lyrics. You can tell he works just as hard on them (either that or he’s a literary genius) as he does his unbelievably skilled guitar playing. His lyrics are especially pertinent if you’ve ever suffered from anxiety. He seems to know how to exactly word what goes on in a troubled mind. This album is no different, here are some of my favorite lyrics:

From Try!: “Gonna try to be myself although myself may wonder why.”
From Another Kind of Green: “You aren’t the perfect hand, but I don’t hit on 19.”
From Who Did You Think I Was?: “I got half a smile and zero shame. I got a reflection with a different name. I got a brand new blues that I can’t explain, who did you think I was?”

It’s so great to get another amazing album from John Mayer. I haven’t been this excited about an artist since I first got hipped to the Beatles. That’s how good John Mayer is. I obviously won’t say he’s better, he has a long way to go. But I will say I look forward to whatever he decides to throw at us next.

Unfortunately there are some drawbacks to the album. Since they’re all recordings from live shows there are actually two tunes from his second album - Daughters and Something’s Missing. I’m not a huge fan of Daughters in the first place, and its overplayed enough on the radio that I am a little mad its even on this album. The take on Something’s Missing is pretty cool and I love the song, but again, it would’ve been nice to have an album have 12 original tracks instead of 9 original and 3 covers (the third cover is an old blues tune called “I Got A Woman.” It’s a good rendition of the tune, but nothing too great).

All in all, the album is well worth the sticker price. If you liked John Mayer’s old stuff it make take you a listen or two to get used to this one. If you hate John Mayer I highly recommend you check this out. Here are some bands that have come to mind while I’ve been listening to this album:

Living in New York certainly has its ups and downs. No, really. You have to go up and down a lot. Apartment buildings, office, subway, train station, airport. I bet I spend more time moving on a vertical plane than I do otherwise. Moving up and down this much in a city is facilitated largely by only one method: The Stairs. The escalator is not faster, nor is an elevator.

I know what you’re thinking “Andy you’re crazy…but so very, very attractive. What’s your phone number?” If only you were cool enough to have it, like Jazz. Anyway, my point is that the myriads of people that instantly flock to the mechanical means of strutting skyward make the process incredibly slow.

Hundreds of people can fit on any given train. Maybe 15 people can fit on an escalator. This translates into a lengthy line, sometimes as many as 50 people deep. Inevitably the process is complicated by the lack of an escalator “passing lane.” Typically the people on an escalator who don’t move at all stay to the right, while the left side is reserved for those who can’t wait to go to work and hate their job a little more, all the while stuffing their faces with donuts and downing gallons of $5 starbucks coffees. Unfortunately this system is always thwarted. Sure a couple people will get it right and the line will be moving well at first, then inevitably an overweight hispanic woman with 16 shopping bags will find her way into the fast lane. Usually she is utterly confused, nearly trips and falls once reaching the top, and then stops directly at the exit of the escalator.

Me? I take the damn stairs. When coming out of Penn Station (or any other escalator equipped area) I make it a point to head straight for the stairs, turn my head and look at the people on the escalator, and give them the finger as I make my way hurriedly up the steps. Sometimes people are offended but I just shrug and give them a look that says “hey pal, at least I’m not stuck on some damn escalator behind an old hispanic woman with shopping bags. This could be you.” Usually the person receiving this look stares at the ground and a single tear falls into the receding staircase.

At work, I am on the 9th floor. Alright, I’m not going to pretend to be some leggy super-hero, I take the elevator. I have this rule for myself - 6th floor or less: staircase, otherwise its the elevator. Our building has only 12 floors, so you’d think it wouldn’t be so bad. But it’s bad, I assure you. You see our elevators are incredibly slow. It takes literally 7 minutes for an elevator to show up on average after you push the button. That’s on AVERAGE. Which means sometimes it takes longer! The wait itself wouldn’t be so bad, but the problem arises when multiple people are using the elevator.

Usually I’m the first on the elevator, largely because of my broad shoulders and bad attitude towards others. As I stand there and wait for the cabin to fill up I like to watch all the lights below me that light up. 3, 4, a 2, maybe a 6. Then I observe the jerks cramming their digits against the buttons. They’re all fat, they all appear slow, and I’m willing to bet they can barely count to the number they just pushed. This infuriates me. Not only are they wasting my time, they have wasted their own by waiting for the elevator in the first place rather than walking up 2 flights of stairs, they’re not burning calories and therefore suffocating their hearts with the breakfast pastries they have no doubt consumed with high-calorie juices, and they smell. At this point, the following speech usually runs through my head:

“Concerned Citizens of Gotham! This is a plea! You, overweight sweaty man in puffy coat! You, obese old woman with oddly shaped legs! Hear my call! Yay though your knees don’t bend as they should and your breath be nothing but a whisp in your throat, take the stairs! Only two flights need you climb! It will be faster than taking the elevator, if not today, then certainly in a week’s time when you will be in shape enough to do it! Hamper me not with your petty button pushing and laziness! It will cost you your life! Now, onward! To the stairs!”

Perhaps the most ironic part about the whole situation is that most of the people getting off on the 3rd floor are going for physical therapy. I could certainly understand if the problem was obvious (a broken leg or the like), but I’m guessing for most of them its just because they’re old* and portly.

*this denotes anyone over the age of 35, which I don’t really consider old, but I think its because they consider themselves old.

Ever since rearing its ugly head around Sir Isaac Newton, Gravity has been a real pain in the ass. From assisting people with suicide to affecting yours truly’s ups in a basketball game Gravity rears its stupid ugly head, pissing people off time and again.

There I was, an intramural basketball game with the Turbo Snails. I drive to the hoop, crossover, jump…and then miss my layup. Thanks a lot Gravity. Because of you, the slam dunk I had planned on executing with a ridiculous yell to be followed by lots of hopping and chest pounding - failed.

Poor Bill. He hates his life. His wife left him for another man who drives a pickup truck and calls himself “Jebby.” Then he comes home one day to find his dog ate his child and then electrocuted itself. Bill just can’t take it anymore. He takes a trip to New York, stands atop one of our many large buildings, and jumps off. Then Gravity gets hold. It forces Bill to the ground instead of into counseling where he belongs. Thanks Gravity, killer! Why don’t you go hangout with Jack Kevorkian and smoke cigarettes!

“Anyone want a cigarette with Uncle Jack? These things’ll kill ya…then again, so will I!”

I don’t think there is a more inconsiderate force. I mean sure, centrifugal force is kind of non-chalant about things, but at least you can dazzle kids by swinging your arms around holding buckets filled with water. What can you do with Gravity? Nothing, that’s what!

Luckily we’ve got a couple celestial bodies on our side in the fight. The gravity on the moon is 1/6th what it is on earth, 1/6th!! The moon is fighting the good fight. In a Universe where Gravity is doing its best to keep everything under its the thumb the moon is saying “Fuck you! EVERYONE should be able to slam dunk!”

Video game…or WAVE OF THE FUTURE?!

Another little guy on our side is Pluto. Keepin’ it real at only about 1/500th of the Earth’s mass (by the way, since when is the Earth Roman Catholic?) Pluto’s gravitational force weighs in at a measely 1/12th of the Earths. Kudos Pluto, keep fighting the good fight!

What worries me is that nothing seems to stop Gravity. Granted it hasn’t done anything too drastic for centuries, but you never know - it could end up hurling us right into the Sun! In order to be prepared for such an event i have constructed a suit made entirely of tin-foil.

As you can see the suit allows me to be prepared and look sharp for work and social functions.

In the end when Gravity takes its final toll on you all it’s going to come down to this - I am going to be the best dressed basketball player around. Want to join me for a game? You’d better start preppin’!

If you watched Fear Factor last night then you saw my friend Angela compete with, and completely hose, 3 other teams of 2 and win $275 thousand dollars. What you may not know is what happened to the losers after filming.

My sources in Hollywood (which may or may not be Franklin at an old type-writer, dressed in 1920’s garb with a fedora that has a tag reading “press” sticking out of the band) gave me permission to post the aftermath of the contest on my blog. Here’s what happened to each team shortly after they were off-camera…

Josh and Jessica Hall, the first contestants to go home, were terribly disappointed at their first-round failure. Josh went back to his job as a policeman where his fellow flatfoots ridiculed him for months. Their constant teasing in tandem with the heavy weight of Josh’s shame of dropping a flag drove him to begin creating ridiculous obstacle courses in his backyard and eventually throughout the neighborhood. In efforts to prove to everyone that he really didn’t fear anything, Josh died in tragic fashion. He strung a huge net between several telephone poles, interlaced the net with some flags, and then doused the net with water. Seconds later he was hit by a bus. Jessica, who failed to even ATTEMPT grabbing the final flag grew ever-apart from her quickly maddening brother. She is still totally hot but is terrified of flags of any sort.

Laura and Linley’s story begins with Linley’s exiting of the set shortly after discovering a “problem” with his toe. Linley’s only real problem is that he is a cyborg. After wading around in the disgusting water, a good amount of it got into his main circuit board, rendering him useless for competition. Laura, not knowing any of this, ran back to their hotel room crying after having lost the round, only to find Linley’s face flipped down revealing various metal-workings, and a cord from his leg plugged into the wall. Being from Miami she wasn’t smart enough to figure out he was a robot and they live together happily to do this day in Miami, exhibiting shitty driving skills and poor reading and comprehension.

Easily the most annoying and least educated couple on the show, the Scotti siblings were full of themselves. After years of lifting weights and watching Schwarzenegger movies, the male, Scotti (at least, I think he was male) told everyone he was “Superhuman” and that “no one else could make it…and my eyebrows are lovely!” Then came the pool. Hey retard, looks like your idiot sister can’t SWIM! Despite bragging about how her trainer had her retrieving bricks froms the bottom of a pool (an exercise developed no doubt to shut her up and attempt to drown her more than to condition her), and showing off her disgusting physique, Tara Scotti lost the competition for herself and her brother. After the competition Charles Scotti furrowed his finely plucked and waxed eyebrows and said “My sister just wasn’t super human enough.” and broke down in tears. Months later Charles would be admitted to an insane asylum where he can be found currently. Huddled in a corner and mumbling about his days as an exotic dancer he shaves his entire body and wears a sun-dress most everywhere he goes. Tara spends most of her days staring blankly into space and occassionally goes to the local kiddy pool, attempts to get in, and then shrieks. She then tries to convince neighborhood kids to throw bricks in there for her to get and to time her. They just shake their heads silently and turn their backs on her.

Make sure you go and vote for PSU’s game-winning play against Northwestern in Pontiac’s play of the…lightyear. I’m not sure about the exact title but I’d say that’s close enough.

VOTE NOW!