You had to know that this was coming. In our world at The Q, we work our asses off, sometimes 15 hours a day, weekends, holidays, etc. etc. So if we can't have a little fun while we're at, then not sure why we would even bother!
Love what I do, love that we don't take ourselves too seriously.
Introducing, the Monsters version of the latest craze..........
Did you know that Cleveland was awesome? I'm guessing the answer is probably one of the following:
1.) Yes because I live here and I can't believe what is happening..THE RENAISSANCE HAS ARRIVED!
But more likely...
2.) No, can you believe the weather?
3.) No, didn't your river catch on fire, like 30 years ago?
4.) "No". Why not? "Well never been, but I read that it snows there, your sports teams haven't won a championship in a long time and I heard someone call it the mistake by the lake once."
Either way, I don't really care. Come live with me for one week, just seven short days, and the world that you previously lived in will be changed forever.
However, spending one week with me in Cleveland may cause the following side affects:
1.) Going home with one of these:
2.) Having the most fun you've had since you were in college
3.) Enjoying some of the finest dining the culinary world has to offer
4.) Meeting incredibly beautiful, bright, talented, and authentic people that will make you smile every day with their passion and energy
5.) Extreme regret - for any negative, uninformed or uneducated comments you had made previously about this city
6.) An increase of one or two points on the toughness scale.
7.) Calling your boss to ask for the following Monday off so you can look for places to live in Tremont for your now pending move to Cleveland
8.) Memories like these:
*crib notes are the unadulterated, unfiltered and often times confusing thoughts of Jeffrey Bowler made at the hours of the night when the thirst for writing has become stronger than the need for sleep.
I sit in bed quite often and think about...well quite frankly....I think about a lot of different things. Where I'm going, where I've been, sometimes just reflection on the day. It is a relaxing and almost meditative subsitute for sleep, since I find that to be highly overrated. And with my current leg injury, almost impossible to sustain longer than 30 minutes at a time anyway....
So as I am laying there I usually come up with a few things that I want to write about, and then I often forget the next morning as I prepare my mind for other priorities at hand. So I think I'll start writing them immediately once in a while. Need to come up with a catchy name for them...Crib notes?
I, for the life of me, will never understand three fundamental flaws I see happening so often....
1.) Why people choose to be negative when they could just as easily make the choice to be positive. Bad things happen to all of us. We all have days that seem like they are going to finally break us down. I am well aware that life can be unbelievably tough sometimes. But I can tell you this with absolutely no uncertainty whatsoever; negativity is a lethal disease that can cause irreparable damage to you and those around you.
2.) Why so many chose to hate one another instead of helping one another. Love is the driving force of human nature, why do we fight it? LOVE EACH OTHER.
3.) Why so many people choose to let life and opportunities pass them by instead of letting life and opportunities be the driving force for every decision that they make. My dad would have thrown me out of the gym himself if I would have ever tanked on a basketball court, and so maybe on some level that has just carried over into every other part of my life. I just don't understand how so many people can be so scared of life that they forget to live it...
Well, I cheese grated the living hell out of myself tonight. Luckily, I'm left handed and won't miss the skin, tendon and ligament that once comprised the knuckle of my right thumb. It happened when I was shaving Romano onto my sometimes-Italian wife's bowl of spaghetti. I suppose I was being too cavalier with that block of hard cheese and what apparently is a very dangerous kitchen utensil. To her credit, my wife did not panic at the sight of blood. She calmly devoured her supper, knuckle and all, as I tended to my gushing wound. The meal was 'delicious,' she later commented, though she 'could have done without the chewy bits.'
This spells the end of my thumb's functionality, and any hope of solving Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! (when I was sooo close to beating the second Don Flamenco). I might as well have the sucker chopped. I'm thinking wood as a replacement, or maybe Obamacare will pony up for one of those lightweight aluminum models.
My two nieces are about the most brilliant and beautiful two girls you can imagine, full of light, magic and love from the second they were born. But I confess that I never knew how prodigiously talented they were until this past Christmas, when I was gifted some of the finest artwork these two eyes have ever seen.
Understand that one of the first responsibilities I took on as an
was to teach my nieces how to fake throw up. Most people don't realize there's a real art to it. You can't just stick out your tongue, mutter a
couple of halfhearted 'blahs' and expect to be taken seriously. A
good fake heave is a full commitment of body and spirit. I passed on
what I knew to the girls. They channeled it through their pens.
What follows springs part from fancy and part from reality.
This from Seda:
Like Picasso's Guernica, there's a lot for the critic to chew on here. Central to the piece, however, is the self portrait just left of center. As Seda vomits, a cascade of bones, spoons, fish heads and other particulate matter issues forth, corrupting everything and everyone in its path. Spectators look on with a mix of horror and delight. The baby 'Willyum' makes his way with zeal toward what looks to be a tasty puddle. Only Isla appears indifferent to the proceedings, more fascinated by the recycling bin than by what is being recycled from her sister's gullet. No identity has as yet been assigned to the mysterious 'girl' meandering conspicuously through the scene. Though rife with political themes, the major undercurrent is thought to reflect Seda's attitude toward the reelection of President Obama, which, she is documented as having said on election night, 'makes me wanna puke.'
And this by Isla:
Though both depict what appear to be the same jettisoned meals, Isla's masterwork in modern realism stands in stark contrast to her sister's chaotic tableau. Working with an almost obsessive attention to detail, the artist renders the moment with a photographic clarity. Here, a green geyser bursts forth from my grinning visage--bones, spoons, fish heads and other particulate matter purged with a hurricane force. As my sometimes-nauseous wife looks on, the terror in her eyes tells one of the great truths of regurgitation: vomit begets vomit. The sight and smell of this discharge will soon overpower her, and summon forth her own foul payload of bones, spoons, fish heads and other particulate matter.
As an uncle, I couldn't be more proud of my girls. These I will keep and treasure forever, Seda and Isla, until that day comes when I can sell them for mad bank on ebay.