Fuck Stamford, Connecticut
as pontificated by boundcreature
Do not ever get off of the highway in Stamford, Connecticut when you are hungry or have to pee. Do not ever try to meet a group of people that have split-up on the highway on accident, in a small city, at a Macy's that is three-stories high or in a mall that has five floors (five floors, which are, oddly enough, numbered: one, two, three, five, seven). Should you ever end up in this situation, take a deep breath and remember the lessons learned watching Scooby Doo: split up! Send one team to scour the Macy's and send a second team to find the food court, if you are gonna find anyone in a mall, it's gonna be at the food court.
Stamford is almost a pretty city, if any of the residents or artists had anything resembling taste it might be a nice destination to visit. There were more scultpures on corners and murals on buildings than I have ever seen in one town, but... they were almost all hideous!
The mall itself is a magnificent explosion of architecture. At any given point, in the center of the mall, you can look up or down to see all of the escalators jutting out from floor to floor. It's pretty rad.
But, still, your lesson of the day is: no matter what, on a road trip with multiple vehicles, always stop at official rest stops and never, ever exit at a city, especially Stamford, Connecticut.
Fuck Stamford, Connecticut.
Arrival, Maternity Wear & Friendship Out of Resentment
as recounted by Boundcreature
The night before the night before was a surprise. I was one day away from heading to Pip's condo with the rest of the SG Boston Crew to meet-up for the next days drive. When, in the course of an afternoon mine and palo's normal daily emails had taken a dreadful turn towards miscommunication that later required a phone call. Like headstrong rams, we butted heads, unable to step outside of ourselves and see what we were really trying to say to each other, unable to reach the real issues in a constant offensive vs defensive routine. It was the kind of conversation that ends alright, but you wish it ended better and every minute until you talk again was a minor spectre chasing your imagination.
All day the next day, all night in the condo, all morning in the car, on the drive to the campsite, I thought about my girl and the conversation we had. And, all I thought and all I cared about for the five hours of the drive, was hoping that I would see her as soon as we got to the campsite, so I could get out and find her and take her aside and tell her that I don't care anymore, that I'm sorry for the way I approached things and that all I want is to smile with her. Would it be too late? Would it be a weekend of stubborness and arguing, refusing to change our viewpoints, but also refusing to let each other go... or would she be there, waiting on me?
I went into the whole weekend nervous and uncertain, nearly convinced I was gonna end up hitting somebody for an offense most-likely no greater than being inconsiderate. But, man the girl does stuff to my brain... it's tricky caring about someone when you just barely know each other and you can't give each other the kind of trust you deserve, because so many people before have taken your wreckless trust and flaunted it.
TheFullNelson pulled us into the campsite and we hit the first checkpoint, where SouthernBelle took our names, then we motored down the path to the realm of parking commisaar SteveNeurotic and, thats when I saw her. All of my notions of quietly unpacking, then taking her aside vanished when I suddenly realized that I had left the still moving car and had sprinted halfway towards the circle of coolers and friends she was sitting in, I heard, from behind, Derceto's voice saying "I know where he's going..." and I kinda chuckled inside as I had already swept palo up into my arms and spun her around and kissed her. And she said "no more fighting?" and I kissed her again.
And, then I put her down and for the first time, saw how amazingly cute she looked. I don't know what words to use to describe the clothes that girls wear, but the top was soft, of a fabric similar to a white bathrobe, it was sleeveless, held on by straps tied over the shoulders. It hung down to her mid-thighs. It looked so cute, but it also looked like the kinda shirt you wear in the early stages of pregnancy. I was struck by this absurd notion, this vision of her, pregnant in the late months of spring, a young bride, an expectant mother, a nervous smile on her lips but this look of absolute hope in her eyes... and it's weird, because I thought that when am married and about to become a father, I would be very happy if the mother looked just like this, like this was a moment sent from the future in a bizarre, reverse deja vu...
So, obviously, I took this tiny, absurd and beautiful notion and used it too irritate her.
As soon as I put her down:
"Oh my God! Are you pregnant?!"
When we went to unload the tents:
"Oh, you shouldn't be lifting that in your condition."
When we went to put up the tents:
"Take it easy, the baby, remember?"
But, I suppose she had the last laugh... when she said it wasn't mine!
Bitch!
But still, the whole of the night, we spent in each other's presence, going to sleep and waking up together. The next morning, in the midst of all of the good vibes, we walked down to the bathroom and I walked headlong into the situation that I was afraid of in the mens room. JWSynTaxPlosion had finally arrived and recognition was obvious and slightly awkward but neither of us spoke of it.
A slight and probably uselessly quick backstory: my girlfriend is a harmless flirt, I'm an embittered and distrustful mess and JWE, at this time, is a flirt of unknown consequence. I know next to nothing about how they interact anywhere but on this stupid website and nor did I know JWE at all, other than he posted something that irritated the piss out of me and I was hellbent on not liking him.
To save the unnecessary mess or psychological damage that I can splatter all over this story, that should be sufficient backstory; a fairly innocuous situation, made larger than it needed to be by poor communication, lack of consideration and fear of falling flat on my face for trusting a feeling one more time in my life.
I don't really want to hit anybody, especially not on a camping trip that required so much effort and planning by people I really like; so I figured I'd just lay low and the whole thing would go away; but I'll be damned if the bastard didn't keep trying to be friendly. What an asshole!
It feels like there had to be some kind of miscommunication, because anybody who would be so upfront and friendly about things would have to be a complete fucking douche to plan on betraying your respect at a later day. And, I ease up and we talk and draw and it turns out he's seen Oliver's Army play in Nashville and I've finally met another human being that has heard of that band, so that's pretty cool and then we rescue sid's fishing lure from a tree and I get hit in the face with a stick, but it's all good...
I spend another day and night in the girls arms and we've finally breached some of the most important conversation topics we've had and I can feel myself starting to trust her like she deserves to be trusted and I think maybe she is starting to understand in what ways that she is important to me and we wake up again the next day, all smiles and kisses and things feel so much better and it finally feels like we make sense to each other we're not just talking at each other's heads, but communicating.
And, the more I talk to JWE the more it all feels silly and, it's clear that we probably share many things in common and, if given the opportunity, could talk for quite a few hours. And I just wish I could get deep enough into this relationship with palo to know when things are clearly silly and when they are not.
But, this world is full of so many guys that are such idiots and so many girls that can't seem to tell the difference, no matter how much they complain, that it makes a normally level-headed guy really defensive around new people, because the world is so polarized anymore between the people who understand respect and the people to whom it is an antiquated quality.
And really, between guys who have a possible disagreement, or even just a miscommunication, a little respect goes a long, long fucking way.
So, like the year before, when 7Deuce feared an argumentative conversation with online rival (and hated Yankees fan) Cash (a former member); only to spend the entire weekend hanging out with him and talking baseball; the East Coast Camping Trip soothes all misunderstandings and makes friends out of people who were quite content to dislike one another.
And so the camping updates continue, I'll probably do more still tomorrow... last night, JebusTheImpaler was the ultimate date-supreme and took me out for dinner and a movie and didn't even put up much fuss when I told him that I did not intend to put out. Class act! But seriously, go see The Wedding Crashers RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Apparently, someone in Hollywood realized that since Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson have been saving shitty comedies for the last 7 years that maybe, just maybe they should be the stars of one crazy-ass movie with Christopher Walken! Brilliant! Also, the Deuce Bigelow sequal is going to be out soon and you know that I am excited! God bless this movie that gave us such wonderful new terms... Man-whore! He-bitch! Mangina!
as pontificated by boundcreature
Do not ever get off of the highway in Stamford, Connecticut when you are hungry or have to pee. Do not ever try to meet a group of people that have split-up on the highway on accident, in a small city, at a Macy's that is three-stories high or in a mall that has five floors (five floors, which are, oddly enough, numbered: one, two, three, five, seven). Should you ever end up in this situation, take a deep breath and remember the lessons learned watching Scooby Doo: split up! Send one team to scour the Macy's and send a second team to find the food court, if you are gonna find anyone in a mall, it's gonna be at the food court.
Stamford is almost a pretty city, if any of the residents or artists had anything resembling taste it might be a nice destination to visit. There were more scultpures on corners and murals on buildings than I have ever seen in one town, but... they were almost all hideous!
The mall itself is a magnificent explosion of architecture. At any given point, in the center of the mall, you can look up or down to see all of the escalators jutting out from floor to floor. It's pretty rad.
But, still, your lesson of the day is: no matter what, on a road trip with multiple vehicles, always stop at official rest stops and never, ever exit at a city, especially Stamford, Connecticut.
Fuck Stamford, Connecticut.
Arrival, Maternity Wear & Friendship Out of Resentment
as recounted by Boundcreature
The night before the night before was a surprise. I was one day away from heading to Pip's condo with the rest of the SG Boston Crew to meet-up for the next days drive. When, in the course of an afternoon mine and palo's normal daily emails had taken a dreadful turn towards miscommunication that later required a phone call. Like headstrong rams, we butted heads, unable to step outside of ourselves and see what we were really trying to say to each other, unable to reach the real issues in a constant offensive vs defensive routine. It was the kind of conversation that ends alright, but you wish it ended better and every minute until you talk again was a minor spectre chasing your imagination.
All day the next day, all night in the condo, all morning in the car, on the drive to the campsite, I thought about my girl and the conversation we had. And, all I thought and all I cared about for the five hours of the drive, was hoping that I would see her as soon as we got to the campsite, so I could get out and find her and take her aside and tell her that I don't care anymore, that I'm sorry for the way I approached things and that all I want is to smile with her. Would it be too late? Would it be a weekend of stubborness and arguing, refusing to change our viewpoints, but also refusing to let each other go... or would she be there, waiting on me?
I went into the whole weekend nervous and uncertain, nearly convinced I was gonna end up hitting somebody for an offense most-likely no greater than being inconsiderate. But, man the girl does stuff to my brain... it's tricky caring about someone when you just barely know each other and you can't give each other the kind of trust you deserve, because so many people before have taken your wreckless trust and flaunted it.
TheFullNelson pulled us into the campsite and we hit the first checkpoint, where SouthernBelle took our names, then we motored down the path to the realm of parking commisaar SteveNeurotic and, thats when I saw her. All of my notions of quietly unpacking, then taking her aside vanished when I suddenly realized that I had left the still moving car and had sprinted halfway towards the circle of coolers and friends she was sitting in, I heard, from behind, Derceto's voice saying "I know where he's going..." and I kinda chuckled inside as I had already swept palo up into my arms and spun her around and kissed her. And she said "no more fighting?" and I kissed her again.
And, then I put her down and for the first time, saw how amazingly cute she looked. I don't know what words to use to describe the clothes that girls wear, but the top was soft, of a fabric similar to a white bathrobe, it was sleeveless, held on by straps tied over the shoulders. It hung down to her mid-thighs. It looked so cute, but it also looked like the kinda shirt you wear in the early stages of pregnancy. I was struck by this absurd notion, this vision of her, pregnant in the late months of spring, a young bride, an expectant mother, a nervous smile on her lips but this look of absolute hope in her eyes... and it's weird, because I thought that when am married and about to become a father, I would be very happy if the mother looked just like this, like this was a moment sent from the future in a bizarre, reverse deja vu...
So, obviously, I took this tiny, absurd and beautiful notion and used it too irritate her.
As soon as I put her down:
"Oh my God! Are you pregnant?!"
When we went to unload the tents:
"Oh, you shouldn't be lifting that in your condition."
When we went to put up the tents:
"Take it easy, the baby, remember?"
But, I suppose she had the last laugh... when she said it wasn't mine!
Bitch!
But still, the whole of the night, we spent in each other's presence, going to sleep and waking up together. The next morning, in the midst of all of the good vibes, we walked down to the bathroom and I walked headlong into the situation that I was afraid of in the mens room. JWSynTaxPlosion had finally arrived and recognition was obvious and slightly awkward but neither of us spoke of it.
A slight and probably uselessly quick backstory: my girlfriend is a harmless flirt, I'm an embittered and distrustful mess and JWE, at this time, is a flirt of unknown consequence. I know next to nothing about how they interact anywhere but on this stupid website and nor did I know JWE at all, other than he posted something that irritated the piss out of me and I was hellbent on not liking him.
To save the unnecessary mess or psychological damage that I can splatter all over this story, that should be sufficient backstory; a fairly innocuous situation, made larger than it needed to be by poor communication, lack of consideration and fear of falling flat on my face for trusting a feeling one more time in my life.
I don't really want to hit anybody, especially not on a camping trip that required so much effort and planning by people I really like; so I figured I'd just lay low and the whole thing would go away; but I'll be damned if the bastard didn't keep trying to be friendly. What an asshole!
It feels like there had to be some kind of miscommunication, because anybody who would be so upfront and friendly about things would have to be a complete fucking douche to plan on betraying your respect at a later day. And, I ease up and we talk and draw and it turns out he's seen Oliver's Army play in Nashville and I've finally met another human being that has heard of that band, so that's pretty cool and then we rescue sid's fishing lure from a tree and I get hit in the face with a stick, but it's all good...
I spend another day and night in the girls arms and we've finally breached some of the most important conversation topics we've had and I can feel myself starting to trust her like she deserves to be trusted and I think maybe she is starting to understand in what ways that she is important to me and we wake up again the next day, all smiles and kisses and things feel so much better and it finally feels like we make sense to each other we're not just talking at each other's heads, but communicating.
And, the more I talk to JWE the more it all feels silly and, it's clear that we probably share many things in common and, if given the opportunity, could talk for quite a few hours. And I just wish I could get deep enough into this relationship with palo to know when things are clearly silly and when they are not.
But, this world is full of so many guys that are such idiots and so many girls that can't seem to tell the difference, no matter how much they complain, that it makes a normally level-headed guy really defensive around new people, because the world is so polarized anymore between the people who understand respect and the people to whom it is an antiquated quality.
And really, between guys who have a possible disagreement, or even just a miscommunication, a little respect goes a long, long fucking way.
So, like the year before, when 7Deuce feared an argumentative conversation with online rival (and hated Yankees fan) Cash (a former member); only to spend the entire weekend hanging out with him and talking baseball; the East Coast Camping Trip soothes all misunderstandings and makes friends out of people who were quite content to dislike one another.
And so the camping updates continue, I'll probably do more still tomorrow... last night, JebusTheImpaler was the ultimate date-supreme and took me out for dinner and a movie and didn't even put up much fuss when I told him that I did not intend to put out. Class act! But seriously, go see The Wedding Crashers RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Apparently, someone in Hollywood realized that since Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson have been saving shitty comedies for the last 7 years that maybe, just maybe they should be the stars of one crazy-ass movie with Christopher Walken! Brilliant! Also, the Deuce Bigelow sequal is going to be out soon and you know that I am excited! God bless this movie that gave us such wonderful new terms... Man-whore! He-bitch! Mangina!
VIEW 20 of 20 COMMENTS
Secondly, there's a story in the end of my journal entry that I think you would enjoy hearing, so I'm going to copy paste it for you now.
SO the other day minimalism909 and I spotted the new Starburst smoothie soda thing and decided try it, since we both love Starburst. Unfortunately, it was a nauseating NutraSweet-tasting death nectar from the bowels of Mars. Enraged and bored, I wrote a long, humorously overblown letter detailing our trip to Sam's Club, our excitement at discovering the product, and our dismay at its disgustosity to the address of the bottling plant, requesting it be forwarded to the party responsible for assaulting my tastebuds. It was full of wordy rage and grossly extended metaphors, but really I was just hoping they'd send me free candy. I wish I had saved a copy of it to post as it was a thing of beauty, but those who are familiar with my writing style when I'm on a roll and/or angry about food will be able to imagine what it was like. I included my email address, and here's the response I received today:
Ms. Church,
First and foremost, you have a wonderful talent at telling a story, and I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed your letter. Thanks.
However, I am sorry to hear of your disappointment in the product. We are the manufacturer of the product, which is licensed and controlled, as you know, by M&M Mars. This is the flavor profile they were targeting for. I'm wishing they could have found more aficionados like you while developing the product. Perhaps it might have been closer to the 'real deal' J
Like you, I love Jolly Rancher candies, and have yet to find a Jolly Rancher product that came anywhere close to the candy flavor. They are all doomed to pass, in my mind, anyway.
I will give the R&D group at Mars your valuable feedback. Maybe we will meet your expectations some day. Thanks again for making my day with your excellent writing skills, oh year, and for contacting us with your opinion.
Please feel free to contact me at any time.
Best Regards,
Mark
Mark Trail, Ph.D.
Director, Quality Assurance
Jasper Products, LLC.
3877 E. 27th Street
Joplin, MO 64804
(417) 208-1325
Highlights:
1. The phrasing in the last paragraph in which he thanks me for making his day, then goes on to correct himself (with an "oh") that it was in fact his year that was made.
2. His encouragement for me to "feel free to contact him at anytime."
3. The fact that the man is a Ph.D.
I don't know why I find that last part so funny. I guess it's the fact that I wrote a ranting letter about shitty soda to a stranger with a doctorate.
Oh, and the candy in question was Starburst, NOT Jolly Ranchers. He got it right in the email subject line (more or less..."Starbust") but wrong in the email. Weird. Jolly Rancher soda would be the shit, though