Vacation

Free time is precious when you're working one of those "day jobs" as we call 'em.
You get up at 7am, get your disgusting ass ready for work. Get to the office somewhere around 9, possibly earlier and do things at a desk, in meetings, over the phone...that somewhere down the line, result in someone getting richer; that someone is not you.
You pack your bags and head out at 6pm, possibly later, and prepare for the ever-fantastic commute home from some office-type setting to your home.
Bus rides with local derelicts breathing heavily on your neck, dry-humping things you can't see, why is this thing im holding onto greasy? I love life.
Or, the alternative...
Freeways that look like parking lots, blond bitches on their cell phones to your right(isn't that illegal now?), random exec dude in his beamer on the left...I hate you. I wonder how much the cost of gas used commuting to and from work cuts into what I actually make.
Best case scenario, Im home by 6:30pm. Realistic scenario, Im home by 7pm or 7:15.
Sweet, all I want to do is eat. Mmmm, should I make some tacos? Maybe pasta? mmm...so I don't actually sit down to eat till 8pm.
Eat, do the dishes, it's now 9pm.
Best case scenario, I don't really start to get tired for 3-4 hours. Realistic scenario, I start to get tired in 2-3 hours and wanna go to bed. Imagine that, out of 24, only 2-3 are mine. Seriously, WTF?

Im going to T-Bell and listen to "Rat Race" by Problem Solved.

The Philly Stink

Open letter to approximately 35% of the men in Philadelphia:

You STINK
As in, you smell like raw meat *plenty of seasoning* left out in the sun for a couple weeks. Certified B.O.
Please upgrade your habits of personal hygiene, you disgust me.

Signed,
Ryan M. Rowe


Ok ok, so youre asking..."dude, Ryan, why the FUCK are you going around smelling dudes in Philadelphia?"...Lets just say, due to working conditions, ive been in close proximity to a large amount of people, within a close-quartered room in downtown Philadelphia for the entire week.
Ive met rich people, poor people. Tall people, short people. Skinny people, fat people, young people, old people...and yet, The Stink can be found attached to men in every one of these groups. It is truly a funk that does not discriminate.

So WTF Philly? Why do you smell? Its not hot, quite brisk at a brisk 71 degrees during the day. Maybe it is all those Philly Cheesesteaks you eat. Maybe you are all huge Phillies fans and have sworn a vow of zero bathing for the playoffs. And that is the only acceptable explanation I will consider.

Cashman, help me out; have dudes in Philly always stunk? Can you confirm or deny the playoff theory? Is there a possible Philadelphia Eagles wildcard that Im completely failing to recognize?

So Sad

Sorrow, pain, hurt, pity, worthlessness, self-loathing, empty. All feelings swirling in my head and stomach after realizing Saturday that my favorite band had been in town, and I totally missed it. There ARE, of course, varying degrees of these feelings. For instance, if you missed your favorite band 'this time', but you know they always play in ___________(your city), then its all good, you'll just seem them next time. Or if you missed your favorite band, but their new album kinda sux and its all __________ (type of lame fan/follower) at the shows anyways, then maybe you wouldn't be too bummed. But I missed my favorite band last weekend. I knew they were coming. And to pour lemon juice on my wounded soul, I had to drive RIGHT past the giant billboard on Market Street which read; "RANCID". Painful.
Watching all those fans waiting, loitering, outside the Warfield was like having to watch an orgy up close in person, but not getting to participate, and no slurpee. And then to go all GG Allin on my open wounds, Punk Rock Carlos calls me clearly holding his phone up at the show--leaving me to listen to that agonizing weird jumble of underwater concert noise filtered through two cell phones.

Im Boring

My life has been pretty boring lately. I think my status as a "C-List Baller" has slipped down the alphabet a little to D-List, possibly D minus-List.
People ask..."whats new man?" or "what have you been up to?"...because it gets a cheap laugh, my response is, "workin' and jerkin'!"
Which is actually about as close to the truth as you can get.

Didnt Want to do This but...

Sorry, sorry...I know you're just as sick as I am of all this Sarah Palin jibber-jabber thats been flooding our airwaves over the last couple weeks, but this is funny(again, sincerest apologies)

Stay classy Hot-Lanta!

New Rule...

Here is a new segment I'd like to introduce to you called "New Rule...".
It will contain one or more "rules" I deem necessary to progress as a nation and avoid the Orange County-fication of our culture and society.
No law-making here, leave that to the people who actually know what they're doing..or should know what they're doing. These are rules that shall be implemented (once I think of enough), when and if I am ever King of America.
Without further ado;

New Rule...
1) You may only play a doctor in prescription drug commercials IF you are actually a doctor.

2) You may only say you have herpes in a prescription drug commercial IF you actually have herpes.

That is all for now.

The REAL Chicago

Keeping with the work-trip tradition of posting while traveling from city to city, I thought I'd kick this one off by proclaiming Chicago the raddest town in America.
I know, I know, youre thinking - "why Ryan, what an unsubstantiated claim you make regarding the overall likability of one city over another"
Well here's why Chicago rules: within 3 hours of getting off my plane I devoured one of the best slabs of ribs I've ever had in my life at The Weber Grill Restaurant and was solicited for sex outside my hotel by what I have to assume was a homeless crackhead(woman).
Awesome.

Heres how the convo went...

Homeless Crackhead: Can you help me out with some change?

Ryan: Sorry, I don't have anything on me (pulls out pockets Uncle Pennybags style)

HC: Are you here alone?

Ryan: Yeah

HC: Can I stay with you?

Ryan: Sure

HC: (pauses) What do you think I mean?

Ryan: ummm

HC: Can I go upstairs with you?

Ryan: OHH no no no, Im ok, thank you

...HC scurries along nervously

You rule Chicago.