Jon • Kate + 8 = Why Procreation Isn't For Everyone

I really should be doing wedding things for Katy right now but I just had to tell you; Jon and Kate have a dysfunctional relationship. I know this might come as a surprise but if you throw a couple with 8 small children on TV things are not going to end well.

Enough of the trying to be funny and saying something new, I could not care less about Jon and Kate or the Angelina/Brad/Jen love triangle that occasionally turns into a rhombus when Jen finds a man (or in John Meyer's case a boy). My question is why do I need to know about Jon's hot and steamy second affair with the nanny and how they have sex when the kids are in the other room? Why do I need to know that this time Jen is over Brad for real now that she has Gerard Butler in her life (and really going for King Leonidas? So cliche.)

The answer is I don't know, and there will always be room for useless gossip in American culture, you can not get rid of it. The truth is I am fascinated by this in a way, Brad and Jen split up in 2005, or so my research says and yet we are still talking about them. They are either incredibly weak when it comes to their emotions or their is a vast conspiracy in the entertainment industry to keep this story going to make us forget about the fact that Jennifer Aniston's career ended when Friends ended. Regardless the 4 years of Star magazine covers is not ending any time soon.

As for Jon and Kate who thinks having 8 kids is a good idea? OK, and who thinks having camera crews and producers follow your every movement is a good idea? Now let's combine those two ideas. If you came anywhere near the word "moronic" then you are correct. These people are egotistical maniacs! They had 8 children for Christ's sake, talk about narcissistic (and do not blame the fertility drugs, they already had two kids, they knew the chances of having too many kids and they could have helped the world out and adopted). Then they went on TV? When has reality TV ever led to good things? The first winner of Survivor went to jail, and have you seen Flavor of Love?

I don't know where this is going so I'm just going to stop here, but before I go I just want to say do not have 8 children, do not lay your relationship out for all of America to see, and do not under any circumstances date Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, or Jennifer Aniston.

Top 5: Things NOT to Say to an IM Official

If working for Northeastern Intramural Sports has taught me anything it has taught me how to take a whole lot of abuse from peers. As a result of that abuse I have come to look at the role of a referee in a new light as well as speculate as to how smart students who attend NU really are. What follows are 5 things you should never say to an IM official unless you are A) looking to make yourself look like an idiot or B) looking to get yourself banned from IM Sports and the Marino Center.


5. He hit me first!

Unfortunately I did not see him hit you first, if I had he would also have a penalty. And no I am not going to take your word for it, if I did that I would be calling a "penalty" on someone every 30 seconds. Besides that, did your mother never teach you about turning the other cheek and being the better person? Or maybe you learned about proportional responses? Sort of along the lines of being pushed to the ground and then turning around and slugging the guy in the face, I think that was not a proportional response on your part.

On top of that I have one set of eyes and unfortunately they both have to look in the same direction at all times. So yes I miss calls occasionally, it happens, get over it, losing a IM dodgeball game should not be up there with the murder of a family member.


4. Have you played Hockey before?

I love answering this question because in fact as a Hockey ref I have played hockey once or twice in my life (wowzers!), to be specific I have been skating since I was 2 and been playing Hockey since I was 4, so what's your next question Mr. Lipton? Do I know how to blow a whistle? Do I know how to lace up my skates properly? Do I sleep at night? Am I blind? I have a question for you: can you read? In particular the part of the rules where it says this is a "non-contact league". I don't care how hockey is played in the NHL because believe it or not this isn't the NHL and you aren't Sidney Fucking Crosby so stop whining like him and serve your two fucking minutes.

3. Shut the #%&@ Up! (and all manner of swearing thrown in my direction)

This one puzzles me; why would someone think it is all right to verbally abuse the person who controls their playing eligibility? It's liking bitching to a cop for a speeding ticket, what do you want a busted tailight and reckless driving tacked on? I can throw you out of this game for looking at me the wrong way (sadly I haven't found a pair of IM eyes I couldn't stare down) and no one from my boss to the President of the University would fault me for it. But yet you think it's ok to tell me to go fuck myself and how to do it? Do I look like the dumbest guy in the world to you? On second thought don't answer that question, just be quiet.

2. What's your name?

What are you going to do with my name? Complain to my boss about me? He likes me and he doesn't like you. More importantly he doesn't like people questioning the calls of his officials. So what on God's green earth do you think he is going to say to you, do you think he is going to fire me because my interpretation of a hooking penalty is a bit different then yours? I think not.

1. You want to fight outside after this is over?
This isn't as much of something not to say to a referee as much as it is a fear I have. I am waiting for the day when I'm walking down the street, ordering a beer at a bar, or grabbing a box of Cheeze-Its from the shelf at Shaws and suddenly someone blindsides me with their fist. And all that because they couldn't understand why I threw them out of a game for jumping over the boards and playing the role of Killer from Slapshot. It's going to happen, maybe not tomorrow and maybe not next year, but someday it is going to happen.


Just keep the audible noises from your throat to a minimum and behave like the decent human being your mother and father brought you up to be. That's all we ask.

US-Nigerean Relations

Maduekwe still visible shaken after his meeting with Secretary Clinton

Thanks to the blog Madam Secretary I know (whether I should or should not) exactly what Hillary Clinton is doing at all times. Moments ago she was in a meeting with Ojo Maduekwe, minister of foreign affairs of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. As it happens I was in that same room and here is what transcribed.

Hillary Clinton: Your honor it is a pleasure to finally meet you, you do not know how long I have waited to meet you.

Ojo Maduekwe: (slightly confused) The honor is mine madam, we the people of Nigeria are ecstatic, great word I just learned madam, that you would take an intrest in the oil wars we have been having in the Delta.

HC: Actually your honor this is a matter of personal business, not state business. (instructs everyone to leave the room)

OM: (now terrified, starts looking around the room for the assasin) Madam your husband never had sex with her I.....

HC: (Cutting in) It's about a man from your country named Prince Abdul Mukar who made my campaign a promise that in return for a small fee of $11 million that he needed to properly move his family into exile he would return me a sum of 10x that amount before the end of the US primary season. We have yet to recieve that payment.

OM: (really confused now) Um.....what?

What I Just Read: All Shall Be Well; and All Shall Be Well; and All Manner of Things Shall Be Well

For the review at face value go here.

First off, since you did not get the cover review for this book I give it to you now. This book was only read because the cover was incredibly amazing. Plain and simple.

Now that that is out of the way we can talk about the words behind the cover:

All Shall Be Well; and All Shall Be Well; and All Manner of Things Shall Be Well by Tod Wodicka is incredibly slow going in the beginning, almost painfully slow. I mean a book that starts with a guy quoting old English and participating in a Middle Ages style chanting class usually is not something one would call enjoyable literature. But then you find out why he is there, then you meet his best friend, then you meet his Children, then his wife, then his terrible mother-in-law, and then you are so wrapped up in Burt Hecker's world that to finish the last 14 pages you make sure to walk under every street lamp from your apartment to work at 9 at night.

Though the book takes about half of its' pages to get going the ending is everything you would want from a book, well, kind of. When I got to the last 30 pages or so the book was on a role, but when I actually finished it I was less excited then I was 30 pages before. Let's just say that Tod Wodicka probably enjoyed the fade to black ending on the Sopranos. Which yes leaves you thinking, and yeah he probably has a good reason for it, but it leaves me a little confused and let down. It's not that I wanted a specific ending, I just wanted an ending.

The thing about Co-Op is.....

They don't prepare you for the transition from the working world back to classes. They do everything in their power to push you out into the real world with a Co-Op but when you return you are expected to assimilate back into campus like you never left. Don't get me wrong, I love the Co-Op program and it is the reason why I decided on Northeastern over a much more affordable state school but there is nothing quite like the transition that takes place between the two spheres. For myself it has been over a year since a attended a class at Northeastern, what with my Co-Op and before that my study abroad program in Belgium I haven't set foot in a Northeastern classroom since last December.

A week ago I was waking up 5 days a week taking the T to my office and getting paid for 8 hours a day. Now I have class from 9 - 3 (which I pay for, instead of getting paid) in which I do more work than I would have on Co-Op. On top of that I will have homework which will fill up more of my time as well as a need to fill the void of my meager, yet weekly, BRA paycheck with hours of harder work at Borders and about equal difficulty (not saying much) work as an IM official. I never thought I would say this but being in the real world is significantly less stressful and much less physically demanding than being a student.

Many of you (many is not a word to describe the amount of readers I have but it's in the past now and we all know there is no going back) may scoff at such a notion but consider this. Every day I am incurring more debt through payments via loans to Northeastern and accruing interest on past loans while at the same time I am trying to pass the classes I am paying for the privilege to attend. On top of which I am working two jobs trying to keep from having to take out loans to afford to live on my own and feed myself.

As opposed to life working 40 hours a week. You go to work at 9, work, punch out at 5 and come home. No homework, no second job, just life. Granted it's not as easy as I just made it sound, but there is no University expense on top of that.

To put it bluntly, my lifestyle just changed overnight from a member of the global economy to a student with not enough time in the day to get by and my University, and life for that matter, expects me to just roll with it.

From The Archive: The Boss

The Underling is furiously inputting payrolls that he has neglected for the past six months of his internship and because of that he has little time to post (maybe he should have worked more and posted less in the past month or so). In leu of his absence we shall be running a few posts from his EU internship that were originally posted at The Doyle Opinion. We apologize if you have already read this post and you can just disregard it if you didn't like it the first time. But like all the other reposts this one will come with commentary from the Underling himself. Enjoy!

As always this color delineates commentary.

Mr Pawel B. Piskorski is my boss, he hails from Warsaw Poland where he used to be the Mayor. I have met my boss a grand total of four times (I think this was the last time I didn't even get hte obligatory "You did a great job" on my last day), shook his hand three times and my longest conversation happened during this encounter:

I walk into the office
Weronika: Good-morning Kevin, how was your weekend? (picture a heavy Polish accent)
Me: It was fine, how was yours?
Weronika: Good.
And then she jerks her head in the direction of my bosses office. I continue the conversation, a little bit puzzled as to why Weronika had jerked her head, I settle for it being that my boss is in today unlike last week.
I sit down, boot up the computer, the phone rings, Weronika answers, normal morning. Then she hangs up and says in a hushed tone.
Weronika: Um, Kevin....you should probably go in and say hi to the boss.
I say that I will, and as I am getting up and making my 3.5 meter trip to my bosses desk I start to freak out and wonder what the hell did I do? I have a guilty conscious all the time, when ever the situation can remotely call for me to be reprimanded I think the worst and today was no different. I move through the doorway that brings me to the boss’s office thinking that I must have embarrassed Mr. P in some fashion, maybe my hair is to long, who knows.
Me: Good Morning sir.
Looking up with the smile he always seems to have when he speaks with me, which is not a good sample size to judge his mood because I have spoken so few times with the man, for all I know he could be incredibly angry....

This was probably the biggest difficulty I had with living and working in Belgium, I could never read some ones mood. Either their English was just not good enough for them to express themselves or the way they expressed their mood through non-verbal means (facial expressions, or body language) just did not translate. I never knew if Weronika was happy, sad, angry or annoyed, I always had to guess.

Boss: Good Morning, how are you doing?
Me: I’m fine sir, how about yourself?
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.......
Boss: I am well.
And then we had one of those moments where, just like when my mom grabs one of my brothers and makes them talk to me on the phone when they are unprepared, where you have nothing to say and then you suddenly realize it and you have no idea what to do (My dad loves to do that to me and I'm just glad that my brothers feel just as awkward about it and refuse the phone from him). So with that the boss smiled and looked back down at his work, and I kinda just shuffled back to my desk wondering what the hell just happened?

This one interaction with my boss is a microcosm of my internship as a whole. I did very little, was asked to do very little at that, and when I was asked to do something it was awkward, easy and pretty much pointless.

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.

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?


Grumbling#2
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: ?

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.
Background,
Stomping feet,
Slamming doors, convey the sentiment.

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

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

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

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.

Stinky Weed

I was riding around the city checking my sites today when I was riding through the Backbay/Southend/Roxburry/Dorchester corner of the city (very interesting area). Anyway, I am riding down the street and suddenly "BAM!" (A little old Batman graphic for you there) I smell weed and I am in the middle of the street and there is no idling hot box of a car around and I know I wasn't smoking weed. So I come to a abrupt stop and look around because come on, it's 11:00 in the morning, it's broad daylight, cops are in this area all the time and last time I checked it still is illegal to smoke weed (that is till Mr. Patrick and the rest of the MA government apply some signatures to a said piece of legislation). I'm looking around and I spotted the perpetrators (brave souls, common protestors, apathetic citizens, or morons) A big black guy and a hefty white woman and they are just staring at me holding a joint between the two of them, I stare back in disbelief, and they continue staring blankly at me (either high, confused, or both). It took me a moment to shake myself out of it and keep going.

I guess this isn't weird I mean I smell weed all the time, from dorm rooms, my neighbors upstairs, while I walk on the sidewalk. But for each of those they are at least trying to be discreet about it, even the random guy walking down the street smoking is at least a moving target, not a sitting duck on the sidewalk in broad view of an intersection. It was just something I have never seen.

You can now go back to your daily lives.