Saturday, December 20, 2008

In Defense of Jupiler

If you are looking for some weird defense of the planet Jupiter then I am afraid you have misspelled the great giant's name.

As for Jupiler, the beer of Belgium, I have been prompted to come to it's defense because of some heat I took after I posted my Top Five Belgian Beers. People were appalled that I would even think of placing such a mediocre to cheap beet on my list. 

Well Jupiler holds a special place in my heart, besides having a great name when pronounced by native Belgian's, it is also obviously the BudLight/CoorsLight/MillerLite/PBR/Keystone/Natty/Busch of Belgium. It was in fact presented to me in that fashion while taking a train from Leuven to Bruges. I was presented my first Jupiler by a group of college students, at 10 AM, on a train, from a backpack. It wasn't Stella, or Duvel or a Trapist it was the crap beer of Belgium.

Now in making my list I kind of compared my Belgian favorites with my domestics in a way:

Stella = Miller High Life a top of the line mass produced American Beer (Doesn't mean its high quality)

Lambic = A hard cider of some kind

Maes = Another shit beer PBR in my mind because PBR on tap has this weird flavor on tap just like Maes does (hence why people think throw up)

Delirium Tremens = A Harpoon or Sam Adams, just higher quality of beer

Hence why Jupiler is the Bud Light (I don't like Bud Light or really any shit beer besides PBR but if Jupiler was brought to America it would become my can/party beer of choice.

It was a sentimental pick and nothing more.

Photo provided by Katy.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Thank you for the phone call Northeastern...

but I haven't had a final at NU in over a year now. But yes I will be sure to check MyNeu (that's another post onto itself) to make sure my non-existent finals are still where they were scheduled to be; my couch. Glad to see my $40,000 a year is wasted so well.

Top Five: Belgian Beers

The first top five was a great success. Well we hope it was because in actuality I have no idea how many of you liked it. Regardless because of it's possible success, my day off and the fact that Katy finally found a picture of my favorite Belgian beer we now have a new Top Five (I'm thinking this will become weekly, biweekly, or monthly)! Today's is Top Five Belgian Beers!

Because I am obviously the go to authority for everything Belgian I thought I would bring you my top five beers which are obviously the undisputed top five Belgian beers there are.

1. Maes also known as Campus (pictured above)

- Some may think it tastes like throw up but I disagree, and it is the beer of choice at De Girafe, my favorite Leuven bar!

2. Lambic Geuze

- I know what you are thinking, only a real man drinks Lambic, well you are absolutely correct in that assumption. Though this Lambic is like no other, it tastes like iced tea and not anything like an alcoholic beverage (no it wasn't actual iced tea, though I can not prove it). And it is brewed and served exclusively at B├ęcasse in Brussels.

3. Stella Artois

- The juggernaut and the only Belgian beer I knew before I went there. I love it. If not only for the fact that in the States its a fancy beer in a green bottle with a white paper top and in Belgium it is considered quite literally to be a "shit beer" or "Pintjes"

4. Jupiler

- I first came in to contact with Jupiler at about 10 AM on a train ride to Bruges. I was offered a seat by a few French Belgians who went on to preach of how "Jupiler" (A heavy accent on the end of the word I was told juPILER!) was in fact the best beer in the world. They offered me one out of their backpack and then another one when they disembarked from the train. It must be noted that Jupiler is cheaper than Stella and can be purchased in cans out of vending machines throughout Belgium. Delicious, yes. "Best beer in the world?" I think not.

5. Delirium Tremens

- This is a place holder until I can determine what other beer I enjoyed should go here. But it is a worthy place holder with a 9% alcohol tag and what my Taxi driver from the airport says were "Pink elephants on the glasses that when they start dancing you know you have had too many?"

As always you are encouraged to submit your own top 5.

Beers that will never appear on this list

-Hoegaarden (Who-garden)

Of Snow Days, Mayor Menino and Non-Essential Employees

As you may already be aware, from the nonstop media coverage, there is to be a lot of snow upon the ground on this fine 19th day of the 12th month in the 2008 year of our Lord Jesus Christ (what?). And because of this fine weather development, Mayor Thomas Menino has granted the Underling, because of his fine work, a much needed day off. It is of course unfortunate that every other non-essential employee was also given the day off because of the impending storm, it seems as if I can never enjoy things by myself.

Because of said storm, there was much rejoicing. Also there was breakfast at Charlie's! I had rasberry pancakes (3) with a side of toast and a chocolate milk. Katy had ONE pancake and a side breakfast potatoes. This is what it looked like when the meal was finished.

Keep in mind who had what and what is finished on the table and what is not. I say no more.

I would like to thank Mayor Menino for the delicious breakfast that I was able to have today. Though it would have been that much better if he picked up the tab, but I understand.

Since Mother Nature has blessed me with a day off today expect a few posts today. Possibly a top five will be in the mix! Be prepared!

Thursday, December 18, 2008

You Know I don't Speak Spanish

But I wish I did. Knowing it would have been pretty handy in knowing how to say "What city are you from?" "What is your ethnicity?" "Are you a U.S. citizen?" and "Is this your name?" today. Why was I asking such personal questions today? Well dear reader, The Underling was required to move amongst the working people today at Parcel 18 (the new NU dorm project).

We interrupt this post for an important side note!

Because I was moving floor to floor today I got to take a look at the new digs for the incoming Freshman, which were; a decent size single room with a private bath, a sizable closet and sink outside the shower/toilet area. I thought Freshman were supposed to be tortured their first year to then appreciate the quality of life from there on out, I know I was. Then again $5,000 a semester for those rooms might just be worse than torture.

Back our regularly scheduled program!

I was also forced to take the talking elevator (announces each floor) which was operated by an elevator operator who had decorated his tiny workspace with christmas lights and decorations.

I just spilled hot apple cider all over myself and the couch (the couch's first spill mind you) which means I will be finishing this post without any pants on. Just thought you should be aware that the first half of this post was written by a fully clothed Underling, the second half a pantless one. You decide which Underling you like better.

After this festive elevator ride came the point where I wish I knew Spanish. I was to determine where a group of floorers were from, and with the names "Mendozza, Romero, and Santos" I was convinced they were probably Latino and not Caucasian like their payroll department keeps telling me they are. I, of course was right, they were not white. Of course I could not verbally confirm this because none of them spoke English. That and their foreman was a Polish man who did not speak Spanish and only a heavily accented version of English (how they got work done is beyond me).

How would have me knowing Spanish helped me you ask? It wouldn't have, it would have been cool though. All I really needed to know was that these guys were Latino and that is fairly easy to determine when they all are a different shade than white and only speak Spanish (go instincts!).

Regardless of the usefulness of Spanish in todays situation I wish I had known it just to make sure they were not saying rude things about me. I mean I work for the government, so they probably don't like me much especially when I don't know Spanish, pull them off their work site, and bring into question their legal status. I know I would hate me.

From The Archives: Alfred (My Ode To Orwell)

This next piece is a total rip off of George Orwell's 1984, I must have just read it. Throughout my life I have had a tendency to copy things, be it writing style, story lines, personality traits or dance moves (which I do poorly mind you). This piece is most likely not an exception to that rule, though likable and well written (at least in my opinion at least). I present this one to you with out any in text notes because it is a story, I think any that is fictional from here on out I will try to leave untouched (to your eyes at least, I may change some words around here and there to make it flow better). Non-fiction pieces on the other hand will make up for the lack of notes.

So here you have it, my ode to (or straight up rip off of) George Orwell: Alfred (I have no idea why I called it "Alfred")

Buzzer goes off. Six o’clock says the time keeper. Time to wake up and smell the coffee; but remember as bad as it smells the taste is worse. The buzzer goes off again. Alfred can now smell the God awful coffee that is rationed out to everyone. He rolls out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom.
Alfred pries open the rusty medicine cabinet and grabs for the bottle of green pills. He opens them as he does every morning, but he does something he has never done before, he pauses.
“Why do I take them?”
“Because they are good for you.”
“But they hurt my head.”
“That is because you do not take enough.”
The logic of this unknown voice confuses Alfred. He stands there for a moment longer, but the smell of burning coffee brings him back, he puts the bottle of green pills back in the cabinet.
Alfred steps out on the street, straightens his tie, licks his lips and makes his way to the subway station. Alfred heads below ground accompanied by the same nameless faces as countless days past.
Waiting for the train to arrive Alfred poses the question again, “Why do I take them?” There is no voice to answer his question this time, so he is forced to ponder the question on his own.
The train interrupts his thinking, he boards the train, looks around for a seat, like usual there is none to be found. The lack of seating did not bother Alfred, for Alfred was thinking. Alfred thinks about a lot of things; about the green pills, why the sky is blue, and why the voice was not responding.
Yet again the train stops his thoughts. He disembarks the train and shuffles out of the station. He is met with an overcast day and a crowded street. “Bah,” he says to himself, yet no voice is there to scold him. Something was different, but Alfred could not put his finger on it.
Alfred arrived at his building, and stood in the long line that led to the security checkpoint. “Damn government, can they not keep out of my life,” thought Alfred. Now that one would bring out the voice in his head for sure, maybe even a shock. Again nothing happened. Alfred started to worry that he might be in trouble. Though he did like his new ability to think freely. It is his turn to go through the security checkpoint.
A buzzer goes off, but this time it is not the time keeper. The world goes dark. Alfred will not be rising at six tomorrow.

A bit dark isn't it? I wonder what possessed me to write that. Now that I think of it I believe I saw the movie Equilibrium for the first time around the time I wrote this. Could be why I wrote it. Either way I ripped it off of something.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Inside Voices

I now know why the Northeastern Co-Op gets this specific cubicle, the Engineers love to hold loud impromptu meetings right next to it. It would be one thing if the person I am talking to on the phone shouted their half of the conversation, but since her employees follow the "Inside Voices Directive" handed down by their respective Kindergarten teachers she does not see a reason to violate the rule herself.

Grumbling Along.....

As many of you have undoubtedly realized I have gone on something of a posting binge since I remembered I had a blog a couple weeks ago (I'm sorry, I give you permission to hit the mark all as read button up at the top of your RSS reader) but within that binge (can I say that?) I have seriously neglected to include any real grumbling about being an underling. I say to you, No More (Said like the actress in the Count of Monte Christo)! Here are some grumblings, from me, The Underling.

Grumbling #1
You know what really gets my goat (I have always wanted to use that phrase in context, I have others as well so watch out!)? People who do not replace the water in the water cooler. But you know what I enjoy doing more than most any other mundane, not fun, slightly irritating thing in an office environment? No it's not talk to my coworkers about politics, it's changing the water for the water cooler!

So I have a sort of dilemma, on one hand I want to chop the hands off of those who do not replace the empty water jug, and on the other hand I love replacing the empty water jug (for the sole purpose that that means that something has been deminished and completed, I don't know what it is but I love that feeling). So far I have been just enjoying the replacing because the other option is slightly bloody and may get me fired, which means I would really be in trouble with Kari (not to mention I think Sallie May may [Ha!] call in my loans and I don't have $60,000 at the moment despite my success) and I don't want that. Suggestions?

I walked into the break room today to clean out my Tupperware from lunch (I just have to cut back on those high profile luncheons, it's the economy, even us Underlings have been effected) and as I passed by the sink to the trash I realized that we have a garbage disposal! Why was I not alerted to this? Why did it take me 5 1/2 months to discover this? Do you understand how I would not have had to bring home dirty tupperware every day? Just because I am an intern doesn't mean I need not be included in such developments as a garbage disposal! That goes for the expansive supply closet I didn't know we had. I need to leave a long list of things for the incoming intern including garabage disposal, supply closet, Bill, the Coke Machine, and the ability to take Agency cars.

From The Archives: The Algerian

Today we bring you an updated and footnoted version of "The Algerian" which was posted at my old blog last spring. This will not be like past posts were I give you an unedited, verbatim copy with my comments on it. This one I have updated and rewritten for quality and factual purposes. Enjoy.

The Algerian: Remix

Imagine a big black rapper shouting Remix right as you start reading this.




In Leuven, there is this bar called De Giraffe (made my top slot for Leuven Bars in fact), which I frequented often for it's Balkan Beats and "interesting" clientele. On one specific night I think I became, or at least came into conversation with said clientele.

On the aforementioned evening; Daniel, Nick, Katy decided to head over to De Giraffe for the laid back atmosphere and of course they have Maes on tap.

We're on the second round when this little Algerian (it should be noted that I deemed him Algerian, he probably isn't Algerian but for this story it has to work) man comes over and starts talking to Daniel. At the time the man was speaking with such poor English and in such a hushed tone that I could not understand a word that was being said, but I could tell by Daniel's facial expressions that it wasn't positive. Afterwords Daniel would explain that the man impressed upon him that he should not "look at people like that, you don't look at people like that." Daniel not understanding what is going on gives an awkward laugh and apologizes, normal policy for fucked up foreigners who are looking for trouble. Instead of pushing the case further, or even just walking away the Algerian hands Daniel a clove of garlic, stares at him and then walks away. I mean what the fuck? Garlic?

The Algerian disappears to the back of the bar for a few minutes, then reappears and starts to make his way for the door, which in turn means passing us again, when he does about €200 falls out of his pocket. He takes two more steps and proceeds to drop €300 more

I'm a nice guy (at least I like to think I am). Being a nice guy means you help people, in this case I decided within seconds that I was going to let this man know that he just dropped a serious amount of money on the floor. In retrospect I probably should have done what the rest of the patrons at the bar did, stare at the guy and then the cash at the floor and decide he probably isn't a guy whose money you touch.

I tap the man on the shoulder and tell him that he just dropped half a grand in euro on the floor. He proceeds to clumsily bend over and "attempt" to pick it up. I say "attempt" because he was far to inebriated to organize his money into a stack and pick it up. So in my infinite wisdom, I decide to kneel down and help him pick up the money, which I do and I hand it to one of his friends who is leaning over me, big mistake. After about twenty seconds or so when we have both stood up and the money is back where it belongs the Algerian man looks at me and sticks his hand out and demands that I give him his money. I say in English that I gave his friend the money. He of course does not believe me and continues to stare at me with his hand out, while I proceed to say in every way possible that I do not have his money.

At this point his friends make themselves apparent and hustle him out of the bar while he continues to glare at me. Daniel now tells us of his encounter with the man earlier, which makes me feel so much better (not). We order another round to make sure the Algerian and his posse have cleared out of the area, and to calm my nerves a bit. I would say it took me 20 seconds to finish that beer.

Next think I know the Algerian man is in my face again, but this time his Arab friend in English says:

"Did you take his money"

I reply that I did not take his money, this includes me turning out all my pockets to show that I did not in fact pocket any of the money on the floor.

At which point the Algerian cuts me off and puts himself between me and the Arab and begins to wag a finger and stammer away in an unknown language. I say that because between the four of us we know Italian, Arabic, French and Spanish and none of us knew what he was saying, and there was no way it was Dutch. I am again turning out my pockets telling this man that I did not steal his money and that I would never steal his money. To which he replies in slow, broken, and drunken English.

"That I drug money, you don't want drug money."

Let's just say that made a lot of things including the clientele of the bar make a lot more sense.

Enter the Algerians white buddies who start talking about how they had to leave the bar and it was "either the money or the Marijuana," the whole time glaring at me.

I later learned that at this point Nick and Daniel were dead set on brawling, and were planning there means of attack in secret just in case the Algerian or the Arab laid a finger on me. As noble and as happy as that made me feel I have a feeling the police would not have been able to get there fast enough to save us from being knifed to death.

As the two of them are scheming over in the corner, I'm continuing to try to procure a large some of drug money from any orifice of my body. At which point I happen to glance over to the Arab man who i return gives me the international signal for "My friend is really fucked up right now so don't worry we don't want to rumble" which made me feel only a little better because this guy also had the Michael Corleone look of "Don't worry Fredo no matter what you do to me you are family" and we all know what happened to Fredo.

As I am turning back towards the Algerian to tell him for the 49,534,875 time that I did not take his money, he grabs for my hand and believe me when I say that that small moment held so much tension. I felt like the Commander of the Dallas in the Hunt for Red October just waiting for Sean Connery to open his torpedo tube doors (might have been a stretch on the analogy but let's just roll with that one), but it never happened. He told me that I shouldn't worry about it and that he had respect for me. He then proceeded to shake my hand, kiss Katy's hand and then took his leave.

It goes without saying that I needed a few more beers to stop shaking and looking over my shoulder for the rest of the evening.

Well that night I did have some more beers and when I got back to my room I thought it would be a good idea to call my mother and tell her that I got into an altercation with a drug dealer. Word from the wise, when you think you might get stabbed by a Drug Dealer do not drunk dial your mom 3,500 miles away and tell her. Moms don't like that.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

From The Archives: ?

This is some kind of poem that I had to write in my Writing For Publication class in High School. I think it has to do with writing down a series of events that pertain to a keyword and then cutting up all the lines and then placing them into specific places. Pretty cool, but weird. I pass it on to you unedited.

Scary driving, high speed,
Ten seconds sweating.
Bracing of the body,
Breakdown the aftermath.

That smell,
I can’t have it!
Clean white, pure white.
Shocks back expected behavior.

Tune out parents fighting.
Stomping feet,
Slamming doors, convey the sentiment.

That button, let’s push it!
Pop back, let’s investigate!
Cylinder, not button.
It burns!

Red, blue, black, yellow.
Slight click, scratchy touch, smooth sides.

Old young and middle aged.
Devoted fans,
Drunk fans,
Lucky fans.
The best one to see.

Top Five: Bars of Leuven

The Underling feels nostalgic for the days of yore, so today he gives you his first top five post (New Feature)! David Letterman does the top 10, The Underling likes to be more specific. If you have ever or will ever spend time in Leuven, Belgium, then heed the following top 5. If you do not plan on visiting Leuven, something The Underling considers to be a crime upon humanity, then just act like you know what I'm talking about.

For this top 5 I give no explanations as to why I like them (unless so posted), but of course the list is open for debate. And please feel free to make your own list and put it in the comments section (I am staring at you Daniel).

Top 5 Leuven Bars (In my humble opinion)

1. De Girafe (Balkan Beats and Drug Dealers)
2. Revue (Old Timers)
3. Cafe Alle (Meters)
4. De Blokhut (Pool Room)
5. Politika (€1 Stella)

Missed the Cut

Train Station Bar
Underground Bar below De Kauf (Forgot the name)

Note: If the Underling ever makes it back to Leuven he will take many pictures of the aforementioned bars and will post them along with many many words.

As always the above picture is provided by Ms. Katy Kobzeff

Sugar Plum Fairy, Sugar Plum Fairy

Picture by Katy Kobzeff

Out the door
Grab the paper
Down the steps
Turn right up the street
Massachusetts Avenue
Turn right
Remove newspaper from bag
Throw away bag
Avoid Berkee students
Pause at intersection
Watch Traffic
Jog across street
Cop with a machine gun
Enter station
"Do you have any change?"
Head down
Down flight of stairs.
Remove wallet
Through gate
Down a flight
Down two flights
Walk 10 paces
"Sally was a 15 year old girl from Nebraska!"
Open newspaper
Battle Unfolds in a Poor Land For the Riches Beneath the Soil
Board train
Walk to the back
Sit on steps
"Next Stop Copley"
Wet floor
"Entering Copley"
The Railroad Disability Board That Couldn't Say No
"Copley, the destination of this train is, Government Center"
Long Island Rail Road
Check watch
"Entering Arlington"
President Dodges Shoes in Iraq
Blury passengers
"Boylston, the destination of this train is, Government Center"
Wrestle newspaper
A Buddy Ballot System
Doors open
Stand up
Disembark train
"Park Street, the destina.........."
Walk up platform
Train arriving
Hustle down stairs
Disregard every other step
Jog to second car
Enter first door
Walk to back of car
Do Not Lean Against Door
Lean against door
Think better of it
Lean against other door
"Downtown Crossing, the destination of this train is, Braintree"
Sounds like Godfrey
Exit car
Move to third car
Cut a lady off
Enter car
Find seat
"Officer gets me naturalized!"
The 17th Floor, Where Wealth Went to Vanish in a Manhattan Tower
$50 billion
New York Mets
Florida Retirees
"Entering South Station"
Stand up
Move to first door
Exit train
Up escalator
Walk up left side
Board bus
Singles seats full
Sit down
"Not A Crime!"
As the Economy Falters, Obama's Goodwill Grows
Don't hit the man in front of you with the paper
7 of 10 Americans support Obama
Knee is uncomfortable
"Courthouse Station"
Need to buy lunch today
"World Trade Center Station"
William Kristol
Check watch
9:52 AM
" wedding was about to start!"
"Silver Line Way"
Wrestle newspaper
Girl has three bags
"Please be considerate and yield seats to elderly and disabled"
I like UFO
"Stop requested"
Check belongings
Stand up
"Tide Street"
Walk to door
Check watch
9:59 AM
Walk across grass
Open door
Remove Wallet
Replace Wallet
Climb 2 flights of stairs
Every time
Remove Wallet
Replace Wallet
Enter office.

That's my commute.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Who Drinks Bud Light?

Apparently alot of people who frequent Choice Mart do. I Saw this (below) on my way to work this morning and was amazed at how much they get for each shipment, and those shipments are weekly.  If this doesn't say college town I don't know what does. And unguarded?

Must be their snazzy new sign, or maybe their snazzy new sign is courtesy of all those people who drink Bud Light.

Lord of the Flies: Piggy

Piggy from Lord of the Flies, is fat, asthmatic, practically blind, and too trusting. He seems to be the only one on the island who has these characteristics. 

My question is if this story was set in today's world how many kids on that island would be obese, asthmatic and socially beaten down? 10%, 25%, half? I'm leaning towards the half.

Some Thanks

I would like to thank McKenna for linking me in her guest blog post about the Vampire Weekend show that she and I happened to both attend. My original post can be found here.

McKenna should start posting again in January at her on blog, mckBLOG.

And yes I posted alot today even though I did not have the ability to do so for half the day. How? I have my ways.

This is Kevin on Anger

This is what Kevin looks like after he has carried his skates all around Boston only to find a half mile long line (I exaggerate) to get into the Frog Pond. This is a level below Hulk.

Katy is happy. I don't know why. There is nothing to be happy about at this point.

Moral of the story: Kevin must be given "Cut in Line Privelages" in the name of public saftey.

From The Archives: A Letter to Gary Bettman from the Canadian People

So you know how something like an hour ago I posted a poem about hockey and the lock out? And how I said if I found any more poems about hockey I would send them your way? Well yes, I found one, one in which I am Ghost writing as the Canadian people (I always wanted to be the Canadian) who are putting the hurt to Mr. Gary Bettman (nice guy). Sadly since I posted this if Gary Bettman is ever found entombed in a sheet of ice I may be suspected of having the keys to the Zamboni. Here you are poetry piece #2!

Letter to Gary Bettman from the Canadian People

Your most honorable fool: We the Canadian people
would like to know what it is you want
with our great game we call hockey.
At first you took our teams
from Quebec and Winnipeg,
but now you have taken your purge one step further.
You have destroyed our game.
Not by taking our game from every Canadian city,
but by taking it from all of North America.
You have forced our players to all corners of the globe.
Yet you laugh, you smile, like the fool you are.
You make your claims, you make your assertions,
but you know nothing of our game.
You are a businessman, not a hockey player,
and even at that you are not good.
We wish you no ill,
We are of course a peaceful people
But as for your job
we care not to let you have it.
So pack up your things,
turn in your keys,
because if it were not for you,
we would have some hockey.

Going to be found in poetry classes for years to come.

Sad Day

I recently downgraded my NYTimes Subscription to Mon - Fri from 7 days a week because the cost was less than half. I did so with reluctance because I know for the Newspaper Industry to survive they need time and money to complete the transition to the Internet. But the poor economy is making the waiting period appear to be too long with every passing day. They are lucky I didn't cancel it completely, it's easier to read all the major papers on a laptop for free.

From The Archives: Hockey Has Gone Away

I was going through things I wrote while taking a class called Writing for Publication taught by one of my favorite teachers Dr. Konaxis (she has since been let go from her post because of certain sexual advances and relationships she had with former students, I was not one of them). Anyway as I was going through these pieces (of which many will be undoubtedly posted here) I found this little tidbit I wrote during the NHL lockout a few years ago. I am awful at poetry, a subject that has always and will continue to perplex me, so do forgive me for the quality and instead pay attention to the raw emotion that resonates within the piece, the hatred, the sadness, the longing and of course like and badly written poem, the bullshit. Here you are the poem that Gary Bettman has suppressed for years: Hockey Has Gone Away.

Oh, hockey, where did you go?
Why are you on the lamb?
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!

Was it because your popularity is low?
Or was it Gary Bettman?
Oh, hockey, where did you go?

I have not once seen Jumbo Joe,
Barreling down the ice like a big old Ram.
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!

All the players and the owners say “No!”
For the truly do not give a damn.
Oh, hockey, where did you go?

I have not once heard “Go Bruins, Go!”
But a fan still I am.
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!

I just want the NHL to know
That I do give a damn!
Oh, hockey, where did you go?
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!

Not to bad eh? I must have been truly depressed if the lockout moved me to start writing poetry....... I date myself with the Jumbo Joe reference me thinks, the beta version of what was to become Milan Lucic. Regardless if I come across anymore hockey inspired poetry, I promise to post it here, for you the reader! Until then you shall have to make do with this timeless piece.

Oh and I attached a picture of Bobby Orr for no other reason than that he is the best defenseman who ever played the game.

No Excuses!

You no longer have any excuses to miss a single post if you don't look at Facebook every day, have an RSS feeder, check Twitter or don't want to manually check everyday! Now you can have it emailed to you! Just type your email address in the box in the corner that says "Enter Your Email Address" and hit "Subscribe" and every email will be sent to your mailbox! It's that simple! And this exclamation point is the last one!

Irony: Anyone who saw this most likely used an RSS feeder or saw it on Facebook or Twitter.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Quick Book Note

In true Kevin fashion I have decided to read two books at once now. Translation: John Lennon - The Life is too daunting and heavy to take with me on the T so it has been relegated to bedside reading. Who has answered the call? One of my favorite books; Lord of the Flies.

Quick Tangent: This Lord of the flies cover (picture below) is the coolest one I have ever seen. Here is the thing, I love neat and well designed book covers. Katy has this copy of To Kill A Mockingbird that I love (mostly because every other design cover is hideous for that book and should be discarded for the one Katy owns) and wish I had bought myself when I could have. What this means is that I love book covers and am always looking for the coolest version of my favorite books.

So what am I going to do? Lennon is for the house, LOTF is for the T. When either is finished you will get my opinion. I love LOTF so the post should be good, and there may be some before I finish the book.

Underling Squared!

So I work at Borders, something I have mentioned a few times now and I promised a post this Sunday for you. Well it's Sunday and I should be at work right now so here is your post about Borders.

Borders is one of two very large national booksellers (not bookstore) the other being Barnes & Noble, they are not the same company. Just because they both sell books and they both start with a "B" unfortunately does not mean that they are the same company, much to the agitation of many a customer.

Just so you all know I do not want to shove a Borders Rewards Card down your throat as much as you do not want one but Borders made me do it. Though if you don't want to be bugged about it anymore, there is a simple remedy; just get one, put a fake email on it and hand it to us each time, I swear I will leave you alone. That and I won't get bugged about lagging numbers from my boss every week. You would think we were selling Borders Rewards cards and not books.

Honestly does it benefit a company enough to continually shove something they don't want in their face? If someone does not want a free card that sends you coupons in your email and nothing else the first 2 times you ask (the second time just in case they heard you wrong the first time) then I think it is reasonable to believe that they will never want one and you should not ask. Also does it make sense in this world of corporate speak and rewards cards to even go for a program like that any more? Why not just become the company that doesn't bother you and is only there to assist and find the book that screams "You!" Then again I have never before worked in retail so I couldn't tell you what works but I just find something wrong about pushing things on people who do not want them.