Back In the Fold

My absence from posting has been alarming even for myself. I had no idea I've been slacking so hard. The steady hum of a wasted summer has fooled me into complacency; no more I say.

I have managed to pull myself up and out of my mid-summer slump by the old boot straps, and I look forward to a valuable rest of the way out. The posts are going to flow like the salmon of Capistrano migrate (Dumb and Dumber allusion) and a general upsmanship in all facets of life shall take place. If anyone is interested in enjoying my new "Seize the Summer" campaign, let me know. Activities will include trips to the springs, beach and Lake Wauburg (the Crypton to my Superman) as well as light evening wine drinking, music listening, aggressive reading, conversationalism, competitive sports and much, much more.

This very evening I plan on going to Friday Night Lights at our very own Ben Hill Griffin Stadium. There, I will eat free BBQ while taking in the sights of our state's greatest high school football prospects. Afterwards, I am planning to go to the Downtown Community Plaza for some live bluegrass and folk music. If all goes to plan, a brief midtown trip may be in order.

This is how the rest of the summer is going to go down people; no more bullshitting around. I've got a life to live damn it, and the summer time is no time at all to sulk. It's a time to get funky.

Keep jukin'.

Engagements, Rome and the Titillating Feeling of Perpetual Boredom and Excessive Melancholy

Well sports fans, it has been one helluva stretch run. As we pound out the remainder of this god forsaken summer of our lord, two-thousand and eight, I can't help but reflect on these "glory" days.

As if I needed to be reminded of the extent of my immaturity, one of my most very special good friends got engaged to be married quite recently. He waited for the best possible moment and unleashed a surprise "will you marry me," the likes of which, we will probably never again see. The two are going to make a wonderful pair and have a happy and fulfilling life together to look forward to. As a bonus, they will probably pump out a series of All-Pro offensive tackles in the next 30 years or so. I am estimating that their male children will probably be about 6'8" and weigh 340 lbs. They will be insanely agile for their size, with plenty of natural athleticism to boot. I am ecstatic for these two young love birds and look forward to their wedding next spring.

Aside from love being in the air for some, this summer has been shit. Remember when you were a child and summers were awesome because you knew how to be imaginative and constructively occupy your time? When did they stop being fun? When did not having anything to do become a burden instead of a warm slice of heaven? I am a firm believer in living in the now and appreciating the moment, but for God's sake, I feel like I'm really grasping at straws. Time has seemingly slowed; interest in everything has waned; I can't even sit still happily and contently during the journey through this endless abyss of hot air, boredom and sports sabbatical. Good day to you all. I hope you are enjoying your summers more than me.

Bar Fight Friend Rankings

Since I am so bored, and there is so little going on in the real world, I am literally going to break down for you the Power Rankings of my good friends when it comes to bar brawling. I will call this the BFPI, or the Bar Fight Power Index.

I will consider size, brute strength, craftiness in tight spots, tenacity, willingness to fight dirty, general disregard for human life and how quickly they would resort to simple weaponry.

This is not an indictment on anyone's ability to defend themselves, merely an analysis of who I would want to have my back if the shit hit the fan at one of our local watering holes.

#1 - The Big Cat: Now, I know this could be a controversial first pick, but I don't see it that way. The Big Cat is surprisingly mobile for his size. He packs a good punch and will fight until he's pulp. Most importantly The Big Cat's size makes him an obvious target, which would in turn allow for me to roam freely like some sort of twisted, haymaker throwing, free safety.

#2 - John Jiggins: Everyone knows that Jiggin's Ultimate Fighter training makes him a valuable weapon in any situation involving fisticuffs. He has very little regard for human decency and his meek and small appearance lends well to a surprise, Trojan Horse styled attack. Jiggins also works well in tight places being that he is used to having large, half-naked men lay on top of him with violence and malice in their hearts.

#3 - TyRubis: This could be a shocker to some. Tyrubis is small and fairly unassuming at times. However, most do not know how willing Tyrubis is to take a situation to the next level. I can absolutely see him uttering "I will kill you all," in a monotoned voice, before breaking a bottle on the table and beginning an assault on the opposition's jugulars. He is also quite strong -- much stronger than he looks -- do to his extensive childhood gymnastics training.

#4 - DFrench: DFrench's big body and propensity for reckless, uncontrollable outbursts would make you think he deserves a higher ranking. He could be a valuable asset is a bar-brawl but he is often times far too cordial -- more likely to get a man's phone number than punch him in the throat. This all is thrown to the wayside if a "Dantrum" is thrown though. In the event of a Dantrum, DFrench automatically skyrockets to #1. There is no talking him down when he reaches this state, and he would obviously unleash a brutal physical attack, as well as an unending stream of bitching and whining, on the opposition.

#5 - Shmem Shmern: Shmern has increased his size greatly in recent months. He has the look of a meat head and would be respected as such during an altercation. He does work out at the Gainesville Gym -- some roid rage could have rubbed off on him, and this could lend itself to fierce, thoughtless aggression. Shmern is also extremely loyal, another valuable asset when it goes down in the street.

#6 - "Marvelous" Heezy Hagler: As L-Town's finest brawler, Heezy is as wiry, and as surly as they come. Another Hagler semi-advantage is that he is so ruthless he'll fight a woman. This could be quite valuable if a female in the opposing crew is "wiling out," as the kids say. He also throws mixed drinks like Rex Grossman throws picks: early, often and in crucial situations. His wit and unfiltered mouth could also be of great value if our challengers need to coaxed into action.

#7 - Marlo: If this rating system was based on starting a bar room brawl Marlo would be the unanimous #1. He often times is so pompous and arrogant, especially when boozing, that trouble simply has a way of finding him. Once a great athlete with the physique of a "junior body builder," Marlow's fitness has wained in his college years. His propensity for condescending rationale is a tremendous tension escalator to be sure, however it's effectiveness in combat would probably prove more disadvantage than advantage.

* If you were not featured on the list, I probably haven't rolled with you in a while.

How a Day at the Springs Can Be Ruined

Yesterday, some of my buds and I decided a camping trip to the springs was an appropriate thing to do on a sleepy, Sunday afternoon. Of course it was. We happen to be three strapping young lads, who are all more than capable of huffing it for a day and a night amongst nature's creatures and elements.

However, things got off to a precariously rough start.

One of our travelling partners happened to be in a sour, little mood from the get go. His pessimism would have been completely unbearable if we didn't find his mouth's constant flow of expletives, and hate-spew, charming on some twisted level. Despite this guy's most earnest attempts to get our trip of course, we loaded the ol' car to the gills with beer, camping equipment and all kinds of man-snacks, and made our way to Ginnie Springs. We thought we were going to swill our ale and tell graphic stories around the camp fire that night, and follow that up with a relaxing float down the river the next day. We were clearly not in Mother Nature's favor.

I awoke, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, around 6:30 in the a.m., with visions of cold beers and rafts floating through my consciousness. My mates remained asleep as I investigated the surrounding area for adventure and simple treasures -- there were none to be had.

As the sun broke above the tree line I marvelled at the day's promise. It was the last marvelling I'll care to do for awhile. The clouds rolled in slowly at first -- I thought they might have even been a figment of my imagination. They were not, and neither was the thunder, lightning and unrelenting rain that followed.

We decided the most responsible thing to do would be to flee the scene as soon as possible. It was a good idea. What wasn't responsible was deciding it would be smart to lazily leave all of our camping equipment there at the springs, to remain forever. We were clearly far too despondent, and rejected by our environment, to properly clean our camp site.

Our shitty tent, tarp and trash will remain there, at our site, as a testament to the futility of man's struggle against nature. It will remain there because we didn't even break the tent down, and there really is no telling how long it will stay untouched before someone finally realizes a bunch of assholes just left all their camping equipment because they were to lazy, and acutely distraught, to pick it up.

A Good Night at the Office

Well, last night was my first truly successful night in the service industry. My partner in crime and I managed to get some pretty serious tip money, a first for me in my short and far from illustrious serving career.

This feat was accomplished thanks to a few lucky breaks. For one, we had a table of drunken Mexican landsapesmen who were clearly getting paid for their services (by their gringo companion) with cervezas and Tuscan Chicken entrees. I am quite sure I wouldn't have been able to serve these gentleman if a valid green card was required for service. They didn't speak a drop of English and they looked particularily sheepish anytime they were required to attempt communication. It was however, quite humorous when they would order their beers: "Bood Liight Main." They had clearly gone to the Carlos Mencia immigration academy. Despite my fears that I was going to get stiffed by these drunkards on the tips, they ended up surpassing the mandatory 15% comfortably on their $170 tab. My faith in the goodness of mankind was briefly restored.

My other big hunk of tips came from a table of 15-20 elderly folks. I did such a shitty job I was thinking about tipping them for dealing with my sorry ass. The only thing that saved me was the fact that I let the leader of this motley, geriatric crew call me "Jeffery" and explain to me the nuances of effective scotch drinking. I'm quite sure he liked me so much he threatened the rest of his crew with physical violence if they didn't pony up a decent tip number. The only problem was that by the time my guy was out the door a few of his people hadn't received their meals, thus leaving them to dictate their own gratuity-leaving strategies; they obviously gave me the business on the ol' tip line. You can't win them all.

It was a good night, in general, with good, old fashioned American grinding. Nothing like working the 4-12:30 shift on a Friday night!

I Just Don't Have the Fortitude To Be Under The Weather

I believe I may be getting ill. It is easily the worst thing that has happened to me this week. My throat is beginning to get sore, I'm experiencing some slight congestion and my demeanor has turned unmistakeably sour.

I would like it a great deal if I were to feel better, although, I understand illness is inevitable during the days of a hard-living summer.

Hopefully, things take a turn for the better so I can be back at premium operating capabilities.

Wish me luck on my way to a full and speedy recovery.

The Journey Begins

On Monday I begin my journey into the heart of the service industry; I will be waiting tables and taking names.

I would have probably accepted the job for no pay. For whatever reason I've always thought I would be a great waiter and I knew someday, one yay or another, I'd need to figure out if my assumptions were correct.

My new boss seems really cool and the crowd at this establishment seems to be of the older variety. So, it's pretty much a recipe for extreme success. I plan to do more schmoozing and galavanting than anyone in the history of western civilization.

It'll be a grand ol' time to be sure.

Lets Hear it for the Gray: Question Everything, Bank on Moderation

I was thinking today, as I am sometimes inclined to do, about life and grandiose and vaunted ideas like happiness, political mechanisms and subversion. I was floored. Where has moderation gone? As far as I can tell there is rarely ever black and white or pure good and evil in this world. When did we forget about the gray?

It dawned on me, as we hurry towards this election, that through our own human emotions, so many of us have forgotten about being open minded. Somewhere along the line we decided our positions and are now fiercely entrenching ourselves in them, for better or worse, ready to go down with the ship if that's what it takes. How many people do you really know that are going to go into the election this year, prepared to listen to debates and analyze differences open-mindedly and, in turn, vote for the candidate that fits their beliefs best? Maybe a few. How many more people do you know, however, that have made up their minds, long ago. No matter what comes out about their candidate or how bad they may look in debates and when forced to talk about future plans of action, they will vote for that candidate come hell or high-water and then turn around and tell you how stupid you are for not feeling the same way that they do?

Moderation. That's the answer. As long as Democrats watch CNN and listen to NPR, accepting that as gospel and Republicans watch Fox News and listen to Rush Limbaugh gobbling it up as hate-fodder against "Dumbocrats" the divide will continue to grow.

How can some people be so defined and connected to one political party? It seems a little absurd. Do these people really feel that strong of an allegiance to these politicians -- the slimiest of slimy Americans -- or do they merely enjoy associating themselves with what they like to perceive as the model-self of their party, making it easier to hate what they think the "other side" represents.

It's so much easier for a yuppy Democrat to stand back and say, "Oh those ignorant and uneducated conservatives are ruining this country. Guns and religion, guffaahh! With their war mongering and blood thirst. So basic." or a stubborn Republican to say, "Those liberals are such pussies. A bunch of ambulance chasers and Marxists ruining this country because they're so soft and feminine. They want the US to be France West." than it is to actually do research and take a step back to understand why, as Americans, we can feel so differently about issues. We would rather group together, generalize and point fingers than actually figure out where someone else is coming from.

Lets take today to turn it around. Question everything. The message; the sender; the potential motivation of the message sender. Ask yourself why you feel a certain way. Is it because you really believe it or is there another, less genuine, reason?

There usually never is absolute truth. Take time to see the gray and the direction that that may guide you.

Cornhole, Notes, Quotes and Anecdotes

These two gentleman, pictured above, are playing a lovely little game called Cornhole. It is not a drinking-game, per say, although, some ice-cold beers can't really hurt.

Two boards, which have a six inch hole cut into them, are set up roughly forty feet apart. The object of the game is to either land your bean bags on the board or throw the bag through the hole. One point is awarded for a bag on the board and three points for a bag in the hole.

The game is usually best played outside. We were merrily doing this last night when all hell broke loose.

My compadres and I were minding our own business, enjoying a little game of Cornhole in my friend's backyard. There was no music and we were keeping our voices down; we were being good citizens to say the very least. Everything seemed reasonably moderate and discreet. The psycho neighbor lady could not have disagreed more.

This old bag comes screamin' eagle over to the front door shrieking and crying like a banshee. A more mature older woman may have simply asked us to keep it down a little. This immature older woman decided the best way to handle things was to weep and carry on in front of six drunken college guys. Threats for appeals to the authorities were made and at one point I thought she may go all vigilante on us and fetch a gas can to burn the house down. Apparently the thud of bean bag on wood was just too much for her to handle.

What is wrong with people nowadays? What happened to love thy neighbor? This woman may not have coveted thy neighbor's wife but she for damn sure coveted thy neighbor's good times!

Being the fine young gentleman that we are, as a group, we relented. And of course, the only reasonable thing to do was morph the interior of the house into a giant grown boy's playpen. We merely converted the house into a large Cornhole arena of sorts. In the end this woman may have done us a service. Cornhole was never meant to be played inside, but last night we shook up the world.

Get yourself some good timber and craft yourself some Cornhole equipment. It is a wonderfully uniquely American thing to do.

Happy Wednesday

Well we've done it -- another half-week down in the books. This means more to some of us than others. I, for one, can not really differentiate Wednesday from Saturday at this point in the summer. For some, this is merely one notch of five towards the glories of freedom that the weekend holds.

So let's take this Wednesday to be thankful for either the freedom of some of our extended adolescence or the stability of steady employment and actual adulthood.

I myself have no idea how I'm going to celebrate this beacon of the mid-week. If you happen to see me and my associates out and about in the bar-scene, give me a Happy Wednesday and we'll share in a joyous clink of the glass and sip of the drink.

Sean Wiggins vs. Dragon Punch

This is a video of Sean Wiggins. Some of you may know this man. Sean is a UFC fighter -- yeah, the stuff on TV where two gentleman are locked into a cage and beat the shit out of each other. Sean has a record of 3-0. What Sean does not have is a victory over the Dragon Punch machine at Gator City.

Sean has many hours logged in the gym honing his craft. We all thought he had what it took to take down the punching machine. Unfortunately he did not.

As you can tell in the video, we had the bar incensed; half of us were sure he would knock the ball clear off its rope. The real cat's ass comes in the moments after his total failure. Note the entire bar booing as Sean disappoints everyone with the lowest score of the evening.

He may be a beloved friend but a powerful puncher, it seems, he is not.

Happy Belated Birthday to Myself

It was my birthday last night and it was alot of fun. Thanks to all who attended at Durty Nelly's last night.

Drinks were drank, fun was had and a new shot was recognized and widely appreciated.

If you've never had a Chocolate Cake shot, do yourself a favor, and try one. I know, I know, I know. It sounds really girly and, believe me, it is a little embarrassing to order. It's worth it though. I'm not shitting you -- it tastes like a chocolate cake. It's the damnedest thing.

Anyways, I am officially an old man now that I have celebrated a birthday past my twenty-first. I am looking wearily towards the eminent hair-loss, health decline and general crankiness that comes with old age.

Boycott Sandwich Board-Using Establishments

I was driving down good ol' Newberry Road this afternoon when I saw something I just can't accept or reconcile with my core beliefs. There was a middle-aged man, looking incredibly miserable and put out, wearing a gigantic sandwich board advertising some bullshit mattress sale or something.

The traffic was heavy, the sun was hot and this poor gentleman was being humiliated. As an employer or member of management you can't make the executive decision to just put the damn sign in the ground? What is the thought process there? I can see some condescending prick of a manager saying, "Yeah Bob, I'm gonna need you to go ahead and put this sign on and go stand in traffic. Yeah I understand you're 45 years old. And yeah, I get it we could just stand the sign up. That's not the point. Are you committed to this team? I mean what the hell are we paying you $6.50 an hour for? In fact, you know what would be even better? Can you go ahead and smile a lot and, you know, kind of wave like an asshole as the cars go by? That'd be great."

I am tired of this fascism and I can't take it anymore. I say this; if there are people calling for us to not go to Beijing for the Olympics and exert our athletic dominance on the rest of the world because China may have some human rights issues, then I am officially calling for the boycott of any establishment utilizing the sandwich board. It's time to stop the humiliation and human rights violations at home.

I'm Back In the 'Ville

Well, I am back, starting today, from a brief reprieve and spiritually centering trip to the Crescent Beach. I thought I was going to have internet access out there, but it was a luxury I was, apparently, not meant to enjoy.

The trip itself was nice and fairly relaxing save the ridiculous series of events which unfolded Wednesday night.

I was coaxed into a night-time departure under the banner of spontaneity and adventure and I ate it up. The problem with a 10 o'clock departure is that you arrive sometime around midnight. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue -- I'm young and can handle the occasional late night. However, the key with which we were bestowed, upon arrival, seemed as though its home did not happen to be the keyhole to the condo we were supposed to be staying in. I was tired, cantankerous and in need of strong drink; I can't begin to tell you the level of devastation I was in when the key would not jam into the damn hole.

The problem was rectified the next morning, but not until a drive to Daytona and back had been completed. All's well that ends well, so who the hell am I to complain?

Tonight I think I am going to venture into the heart of Gainesville's mid-town. My final destination could be anywhere but it will most likely be the world infamous Gator Shitty. Hopefully I will see lots of happy people there, no drama, fist-a-cuffs or drink-on-the-head pouring. Happy Friday.

My Journey Into the World of Yoga

So yeah, Ive done a few things in my life I'm not very proud of -- hey maybe even more than a few. I thought for sure what I did today would be one of those embarrassing things; it didn't turn out that way though.

Today I ventured into the Gainesville Health and Fitness Center Tioga location. I went out there for some yoga.

Now, i'll admit, it's not the coolest shit I've ever done but that's not the point. I'm comfortable enough in my skin and with my sexuality and I needed to figure out if there was something I was missing out on. It turned out I was.

I rolled into the yoga and pilates studio in my sneakers; this was my first mistake. The footwear of choice seemed to be Birkenstocks with the owners of which being pretty much all 50+ granola eating yuppies. Now I'll admit at first glance I was a little nervous about the whole situation.

My second mistake was hurriedly grabbing a pair of my brother's gym shorts on the way out of my mom's house, only to find out, right before walking into the class, that the dumbass had written MCNASTY in huge black letters right across the ass of the grey shorts. This would be embarrassing during a normal trip to the gym, but when you're going to a yoga class, with older women in close proximity, you don't exactly want them taking guesses as to why the hell the young guy in the class has MCNASTY on his ass. Very awkward.

The instructor was a red haired lady who looked like she'd had one to many muscle relaxers, she was nice in directing me to my very own rubber mat, but you could tell she was REALLY into the whole eastern culture thing.

As soon as class started I was informed by this ginger yoga guru that the Chuck T's I was rocking needed to come off; this was a shoe free environment. I knew that my feet smelled like they'd been soaked in a combination of man-sweat, locker room and cat urine, so I was understandably hesitant about following this order. I relented however, who am I to disrupt all the good chi flowing through that room. I decided in my head an appropriate compromise would be for me to leave my socks on. Yoga master Karen probably thought in her head that I was an ignorant asshole and then told me, a little more forcibly mind you, I needed to lose the socks too. Now while this did not necessarily cause me any direct discomfort I'm sure the 50 something gentleman in front of me, who was very serious about his yoga posing, did not appreciate my nasty ass man stompers in his face, stenching up his personal area for an hour and 15. But that's life in the yoga room when I'm practicing my moves.

The class was pretty intense though; those ridiculous poses are much more difficult that one would have expected -- especially one who probably couldn't touch his toes for 10 grand. The verbage was a little corny, the lady kept making references to becoming one with earth and tapping into your inner energy, but it was effective. I was shaking and sweating and struggling along like some fat kid in gym class.

Aside from the Warrior II, the down and upward dog, full moon and lotus we did some guided meditation too. Now this shit was intense. I think I was actually hypnotized at one point and if it weren't for the fact that I was very concerned that I was so relaxed I was going to experience some involuntary flatulence, I think I would have fallen asleep.

All in all, I would suggest this experience to anyone comfortable enough to try it. As long as you can avoid giggling during the egregious "Ohhhhhhhhhmmmm" sessions its really a pretty interesting thing. Hell I may go again... without the MCNASTY shorts of course.

Radiohead Revisited

Alright, well the Radiohead concert experience was quite the dichotomy of sorts. While it was an awesome experience and I was able to spend quality R&R time with some of my favorite people, the concert, for me, was a bust.

The band played well -- I mean the music was great. The problem was that when I go to a concert I want to see the band perform. We were like 200 yards from the stage and the giant screens, which are supposed to provide people with shitty seats a better view of the performance, were curiously blank. Now, for the hardcore Radiohead fans this wasn't a problem in the least because, of course, Radiohead is just "so... so transcendent and supernatural." Unfortunately I am not quite a hardcore fan and this flippant dismissal of the visual shortcomings of the concert were a source of great aggravation for me.

We were surrounded by very emotionally in-tune scene kids. You know the type -- the kids who act like the rigors of upper-middle class life are just so frustrating and tough that they really have to buck the system and showcase their human uniqueness through ridiculous haircuts and strange clothing. It took great restraint to not turn around to the sprite behind me and tell him I didn't care what he thought he sounded like in the shower, that he was ruining the already diminished experience for me with his out of tune howling.

Aggravation turned to bitterness and I began telling others in my area it probably wasn't even Radiohead that for all they knew it could just be some random gentlemen jumping around on stage. My section wasn't fond of me at that point -- when I started yelling "no more encores, just pack it up guys... seriously, no more," my section hated me. What can I say though, I'd been pushed to my limits patience wise. In hindsight I could have soaked up the experience more thoroughly, minus all the complaining, but when you drop good coin on a ticket you'd like to at least be 100% sure you actually saw the band.

Radiohead Concert Tonight

Tonight me and a group of my favorite associates are venturing to the Tampa Amphitheatre for a Radiohead concert. Radiohead is one of the most slept on bands that I can think of and apparently they give an incredible live show; I am extremely excited for tonight. Besides the good music it should be quite a wonderfully relaxed party scene of sorts -- everyone should be happy, no one should be freaking out.

While it is probably too late for anyone who is ticket-less to go to this particular concert at this point, it is not too late for you to become an appreciator of Radiohead. Enjoy.

Fat Zach -- At It Again!!

I must preface this post with a little information.

I noticed this cyber-anomaly a while back while browsing YouTube for some of my favorite songs. I'm searching Bob Dylan -- one of normal Zach's most beloved icons. To my shock I see myself playing the guitar, much better than I can, I should add. The only problem is I weigh 75 pounds more than I do now.

My understanding is that there is someone out there in cyberspace who looks just like me and is much better than me at everything I do; he even likes the same exact things that I do; he just likes them much more and in a much more impressive way. This guy is a superior being although nearly in the exact same mold, cut from the exact same cloth that I am; he is just much fatter.

Sometimes I take solace in the fact that I am much more physically fit than he is, but at the end of the day Fat Zach and I both know who the better man is. Fat Zach.

Zach Likes the Beach: A Trip Revisited

Well the weekend getaway is officially over; it had a rather unfortunate early ending. One of our companions -- sadly, the one who drove -- decided that, because he was having a lover's spat, it was appropriate to wake the rest of us up at 4:30 in the morning so that he can take care of "some stuff" in town.

The basic goal of the trip was achieved... I think. We relaxed, swapped stories and in general grew closer as human beings. The weather was warm, the water was refreshing and the waves were crisp. There were ups and downs and even a few questionable decisions but in the end it was good-natured happy times.

Here's a recap of some of the more noteworthy occurrences. Anonymity will be kept for sake of feelings being hurt.

- Inevitably, "The Big Cat" went with the wrong choice, given the fairness of his skin, and chose the tan accelerator instead of it's more protective cousin sunscreen. Despite plenty of objections to this decision, it was carried through and "The Big Cat" is as burnt as his critics are smug.

-Best "Zing" of the Weekend - Friend #1 enters the room holding his crotch with what can only be described as a shit-eating grin on his face. Friend #2 says, "what the hell is that." Friend #1 (still awkwardly grabbing his crotch) responds with a smug "This here? This is life man... This is life." Friend #2 fires back "Well... I guess life is short." ZING

-In general, riding around in a Mini Cooper, at any time, is noteworthy and awesome. So, instead of describing a single Mini Cooper convertible ride that I had this weekend, I will try to illustrate how cool it is. Think James Dean with a Marlboro and beer, riding on a tiger, on a surfboard, hanging 10, in the pipe of a big wave making whoopee to Bridgette Bardot. Yeah, riding in a convertible Mini is that cool.

All in all, it was good times with good friends. When you're in a comfort level like we were all in this weekend the possibilities really do feel infinite. Spend time with your friends; it does a body good.

Zach Loves the Beach

Well yesterday's Kentucky Derby proved to be as interesting as I could have guessed; I won't even get into how spot on I was about Big Brown. That is an epic beast to say the very least; I suspect we could be looking at the first Triple Crown winner in 30 years.

The lovely beach picture is appropriate because me and some associates of mine are taking a reprieve at the beach for the extended weekend. We had cocktails, watched basketball and had, in general, a very good time last night. Some consumed more than others. I of course was responsible and fell asleep nice and early so I could enjoy the morning. I have already gone on a beach cruiser adventure. Our lone female companion is cooking breakfast as I type -- it is merely coincidence that she has done the majority of the "woman's work," we are, of course, a very progressive group.

Today's activities will include plenty of beer consumption and sun exposure. A gentleman who I will only refer to as "The Big Cat" has brought his Hawaiian Tropic Tan Accelerator and he is quite excited about using it.

We are staying in a very swanky neighborhood and I am going to make a point this afternoon to mingle with some of the high-society types who I've seen washing their boats and what not. I am equipped with my yachting shoes and have a pension, when vacationing, to be quite cordially infultrative.

My next post could be in the midst of tropical bliss or total chaos. Stay tuned.