Wasted Days and Opening Day

Ok, so it has been almost a week, or rather a whole week in and of itself, since my last blog. I did inform everyone last blog about how busy and inebriated my weekend would be. It turned out much as I expected. It had kind of a rough start as Fernando had some travel issues and didn’t get into DFW till almost midnight on Friday. Then, we rushed in a way to Main Street Bar in Richardson to get the weekend started right. I started my weekend with 2 shots and 4 beers in one hour. Rough, but I survived enough to get everyone to Whataburger for some taquitos before bedtime. The next morning as my alarm clock was going off I made the spur of the moment decision to sleep in some more and ended up sleeping till almost eleven. I took Fer to go get his rental car but was turned down by the rental place due to some credit card snafus, so we just sucked it up, reorganized, and went to Snuffers. I, as well as most everyone else, stuffed myself with cheddar fries and a cheddar fry burger in preparation for my evening plans. We went back to the house, blissfully, and got to get to see the video from Fernando’s wedding. I enjoyed seeing myself making an ass out of myself, and though I can’t speak for Jon and Chris, got some pretty good laughs out of it all. Although Fer said the video was only thirty minutes, it ended up being an hour or more, so right afterward we had to all depart our separate ways for our Saturday into Sunday plans. Fernando and Claudia were heading up to Wichita Falls to see Fer’s brother, I packed up and hauled ass to the racetrack, and Jon, well, I’m not sure what Jon did. When I got to the track I settled into the race weekend groove. Everyone was enjoying crawfish and other delicacies, but I was still so stuffed from Snuffers that I couldn’t take it. I started in on the beer. My brother made the “excellent” decision to bring some Natural Light to the track, which was pretty gross, but cheap beer is cheap beer. We sat around the campers and camp chairs, drinking and watching people play cornhole. It was a redneck holiday of sorts. As the evening turned into late night, the Oklahoma boys yelled, “Let’s go see some titties!” So, everyone stuffed a couple beers in their pockets and topped off their mixed drinks to head over to the “parade” where ladies, young and old, attractive and disgusting, would compromise their morals for ten cents worth of plastic beads. It wasn’t that great. In fact, if you were sober enough, you would realize that for twenty dollars you could have a relatively attractive woman’s undivided attention for three or four minutes at an actual titty bar. The hangovers keep most of us in bed till ten the next morning, but the rest of us were shaken out of bed because of the raging winds and freezing cold that came about in the middle of the night. Sleeping on the floor of a camper with an egg-crate beneath me and an old worn blanket was not the best circumstances for this type of weather. But, I toughed it out and enjoyed the excellent breakfast my brother made before heading to the track. The race wasn’t that good and my sister got sick near the end, so they split out early and I was on their heels to beat the traffic. Sunday night we all got together again since we were all back in town and enjoyed some more good times. Claudia was going back Monday morning so we had to work out the driving plan for the game. We boiled it down to Fer taking Claudia to DFW and then going back to Love to drop off his rental car, then me going and picking up both Jon and Josh on the way to getting Fer from Love and going to the ballpark. It turned out like clockwork, but it didn’t mean that everything was fantastic. It was still cold, maybe even colder. Our seats were upper deck, right behind home plate, and when I say upper deck, we were one row down from the top and had the cold North wind at our backs the whole time. But, we won, and I will get to that later. Monday night we were cool out and relaxed, just enjoying our last good times before we all split ways again. I took Fernando over to Jon’s because he was going to stay there that night and Jon was going to take him to the airport because I had to work the next morning. It was such a good weekend that parts of it are just blurs, but I know I had a great time and I know I will miss Fernando till I see him again.

Now on to my Texas Rangers…The Texas Rangers are going to make people forget about those miserable starts of the recent past if they keep playing like it is 1996 again. For the first time since the season of their first AL West title, the Rangers are 3-0. The Rangers can still hit, that has not changed. But if they keep pitching the way Kevin Millwood and the relievers did in a 9-1 opening victory over the Cleveland Indians on Monday, this could finally be their breakout season. Plus, Elvis Andrus hit his first career homer, and Nelson Cruz added two solo shots and three RBIs to lead the Rangers past the Cleveland Indians 8-5 Wednesday. And Marlon Byrd and Ian Kinsler hit long home runs and the Rangers outslugged the Cleveland Indians 12-8 Thursday. Texas, which got its only series sweep last season in late August, is the only American League team still undefeated. The Rangers got off to a 7-16 start last season that raised questions about the future of manager Ron Washington, who made his debut a year earlier with a 20-loss May that pushed Texas to a season-worst 19 games under .500 by mid-June. Texas won its first seven games and went on to win its first AL West title in 1996. They won the division again in 1998 and 1999, but still haven’t won a playoff series. However, with kind of start and the knowing nods and glances we are getting from ESPN, it is hard not to be optimistic about the Rangers chances. Now if you know me, you know I am not a bandwagoner. I am the hardest of hardcore Rangers fans that brave the oppressive heat of Texas summer just to enjoy a game and lives and dies by the numbers on our players stat sheets. I love the Rangers, even though they have not paid off in my previous wagers in their favor. Good thing I only gamble in cookies. Needless to say, Opening Day, and the remaining two games of the week have made me a believer all over again, as if I needed it. How can you not believe it when the former President George W. Bush winds up his right arm with two windmill whirls, then fires a high strike in to help the Texas Rangers start the season?

Best...Weekend...Ever

Why, as a man, do I feel the need to censor myself and hold back on what I say? I’m not a mean or spiteful person. I’m not going to say anything that will hurt anyone. I don’t even usually think that way. More often than not, when I censor myself, it has to do with me protecting myself from what the other person might say. Even worse, it happens in my relationships with the people I care about the most. Why can’t I just say what I am thinking/feeling at the time and let the chips fall where they may? Sure, it may end up hurting me, but it will probably be better than the constant nagging feeling I have after the fact. Sorry, I am beating up on myself a little right now due to a conversation I had earlier. I held back. It was right on the tip of my tongue, or fingertips, depending on the medium, and I just clammed up. I got generic. I dodged saying it even though I wasn’t confronted with saying it. Is this the end of the world? No, far from it, but it’s something that means a great deal to me and I said nothing. Nothing…

Aside from that, I am about to start the ultimate weekend. Let me break it down to you. I have four days off of work. Four…in a row…consecutive. Starting tonight, as soon as I leave this ridiculous stat class, I begin my weekend. The first twenty four hours will consist of me doing basically nothing. I have wanted to do nothing for twenty four hours for four days, since the last time I did so. Continuing into tomorrow night I will pick up my long-lost best friend Fernando and his wife, Claudia, from DFW International Airport with my friend Jon and take them out. Out…for debauchery and silliness in the Big D. They live in Atlanta and are coming to town for two reasons, well, for Claudia one reason, but Fer for two reasons. They are going to meet up with Fernando’s long-lost brother at some point this weekend so Claudia can meet him. I will get to Fernando’s second reason later. Anyway, debauchery, all night long and into the morning in some cases, is the plan for our guests. Then, waking Saturday to charge the batteries and refuel. The day Saturday will be played mostly by ear because of the questions of when/where/whether they will be able to meet up with Fernando’s brother. But, Saturday afternoon/evening, I will be heading out to Texas Motor Speedway for one of the greatest spectacles in sports…a NASCAR Sprint Cup race with my brother and his rowdy race friends. At TMS we will be drinking all night long on Saturday and into the morning hours in some cases, then trying to sleep it off in the camper before going to the race on Sunday. I have invited our visitors and Jon out to the track Saturday night to experience it all. The night before the race is like Woodstock, the Republican National Convention, Sturgis, Mardi gras, and the Super Bowl all rolled into one. I can’t explain it any better than that, but if you asked my brother I’m sure he could come up with something. You just have to experience it first hand to know it. After the race, where my boy Clint Bowyer is probably going to tear it up, I will head back to town for more quality time with my friends. Am I going to dry out at any time…probably not. Monday morning we will shuffle Claudia’s cookies back to the airport and head off to the event I’ve been waiting for since twelve months ago. Texas Rangers Opening Day at the Ballpark at Arlington is probably more exciting than the race, but only slightly. It’s the start of a new year of Rangers baseball and the hope for a playoff bid begins anew. This is a tradition that Jon, Fernando, and I have shared for several years and to which my brother joined last year. It’s boy’s day out. Tailgating, cheering, guessing how old the ball girls and Six Shooters are…it is awesome. Once again, the words escape me, but if you could see me, the giddy look on my face would say it all. I’m sure my classmates are wondering what the hell I’m smiling about in the middle of this damn stat class. After the game will be one more night, just the boys (well, maybe just the boys), doing what we do best…drinking and laughing. Tuesday morning, Fernando will be leaving our world again and life will go back to normal, literally, since I have to work that morning.

All that being said, don’t expect to hear from me for the next few days unless you are one of the lucky few who I grace with drunk texts in the middle of the night. You know who you are. I’ll let ya’ll know how everything turns out sometime next week when all the alcohol leaves my system. Yes, by the way, we practice safety when drinking and designate a driver. But we don’t travel much once we’ve settled into a good rhythm of shots and beers. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

Fascinated...by a woman...

Ok, so I lied to myself. I may have lied to ya’ll too, I don’t know, I don’t read my own blogs once I post them. It is not a serious lie by any means, but it is something I told myself I wouldn’t do and yet I am compelled to do it. Let us start from the beginning. I was flipping through the channels last night, which is something I rarely do because my TiVo offers me an onscreen guide that alleviates the need for such silliness. Anyway, I was flipping through the channels and I came across CNN. I don’t watch CNN that much, to be honest with you, not that I don’t watch the news, but CNN is a little too liberal leaning for my tastes, at least on occasion. So, I came across CNN and Larry King Live is on. Let’s just say that you can take what I said about not watching CNN that much and then double it went applying it to how often I watch Larry King Live. Like I want to sit and listen to an old man in suspenders prattle through “hard-hitting” questions with celebrities and politicians. I don’t care much what Jennifer Aniston’s political point of view is or whether she thinks President Obama is cute. But, last night I had to stop because his first guest was Meghan McCain. Here comes the rub, I had promised myself that I wouldn’t write about Meghan McCain after my first blog about her where I compared her to a unicorn. However, this was a special case where I would get to see a little behind the curtain (un-edited) as to what she really thinks and feels about things. Sure, Larry King probably gives them the questions he is going to ask ahead of time and I would accuse him of using “softball” questions on more than one occasion, but at least I would get to hear her speak.

I know what a lot of you are probably thinking…man, does he have a crush on this girl or what? Well, you can put that question to bed right now, folks. The answer is no. I don’t form crushes on people I’ve never met, talked to, or experienced before. That’s absurd. I pity people who have these celebrity crushes on the people in the limelight with whom they have never exchanged a single word in person, in writing, or otherwise. Ok, pity is a strong word to use, but I guess I just don’t understand it. I admit though, that if I did meet Meghan McCain and she lived up to even half of my expectations of her I probably would have a crush. But what does that say about me that the one “celebrity” I have would potentially have a crush on is not really a celebrity in the traditional sense. She’s more of a political commentator, which isn’t really sexy unless you like politics or you like big words like commentator. Let me not misinform you. I have formed an interest in Ms. McCain that is based on several factors that make up so-called “crush” material, but I’m not part of her fan club (if there is one), I don’t subscribe to her blog, and I don’t have posters of her on my walls. All of which, I use as criteria for identifying a celebrity crush scenario.

All of that aside, I think I gathered a great deal from watching the interview. Ms. McCain said one thing that CNN and Larry King locked onto instantly. When King asked a question about whether Obama seems like the same guy who ran against her dad and how she views him now, Meghan said, “He's our president and when the election was over and when President Obama won, all negative feelings were gone. I support the president.” When asked if she thought that many in the Republican Party want the President to fail, she said, “I don't know, because there are many different personalities within the party. ... I would never want my president to fail, no matter which party is in power.” That struck me as an excellent point to make. Both parties always rail against the opposition when they are in power, but no one ever really stops to think that a president failing means a nation failing. Poignant and well thought out for someone who is about twenty years younger than most policy makers and party leaders. Sure, it is healthy for democracy to have two sides (or more) that fight for what they believe in, but it is unhealthy to wish that one side completely fail so that your side looks better. I know I am hard on President Obama because I don’t believe in his politics, but I would never want him to fail. He could fix the economy, erase the deficit, lower taxes, cure cancer and save a hundred puppies from a burning building, I am still going to rail on him because he is a democrat. But, I will also respect him for his accomplishments, even if not publicly. This is not the only thing I learned from watching the interview, I also learned that Meghan McCain has a tattoo on her foot and is playing to get another on her wrist. She likes tattoos. Kinda makes me want to go out and get that tattoo I’ve been planning on, but not for her, for myself. She is a conservative, motivated, successful woman who has and wants tattoos. Why not me, too?

Ok, enough is enough. Now, I promise I won’t write about Meghan McCain again. Ok, maybe not again…right now she is a fascinating woman to me, and I have a shortage of fascinating women in my life right now. Well, I have a shortage of women in my life right now, period, never mind the fascinating.

Hindsight is 20/20

Something struck me today. Not physically, I am alright. I mean mentally. It occurred after receiving one of those emails from facebook. Ya’ll know the ones…someone has commented on something or other on your facebook page. It took a while for me to be struck by this thing, this epiphany, if you will. Almost two hours later, on my drive to school, which I’m currently in. Stat is boring enough as it is, but when you’re tired and you arrive to class late, it just makes it worse. Anyway, back to my momentary enlightening. It seems that when you are growing up in the years between your junior year of high school and your career that everyone wants to know what your five year plan is. When you’re in high school and college, it is so easy to let your mind run wild with the possibilities of who you will be, but often you just are off the mark. That’s right, I’m going to be writing about how life throws you curveballs and you never end up where you thought you would. Just as boring as stat, I know, but I’m going to be talking about me personally, so you may be able to relate.

If my life had gone with my five year plan, five years ago, I would be married right now. Funny, considering I am probably the furthest from getting married right now in my life than I have ever been. But yes, I was in that serious of a relationship five years ago that I thought I would be married by 2009. Some of you may think that is sad, but for me it just reaffirms for me the feeling I’ve always had that God has got my back. If I were married to the girl I was going to be married to, I would probably be miserable. And, to make that situation worse, we probably would have brought a child into this world along with that ill advised marriage. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that girl very much back then, but I was young and dumb and she was even younger and dumber. I was blinded by my love for her to the obvious flaws not only in our relationship but also in each other. I’ve grew up much since then and been through other relationships along that way that have shown me the difference between the love I had for her and the love that you are supposed to have for someone you plan on marrying. Maybe she has grown up too, and we would have matured together into a positive relationship with one another, but I highly doubt that. If anything, we would have probably just grown apart naturally if she had decided to move on to “better” things. Yeah, you don’t do that to someone you really love.

If my life had gone with my five year plan of five years ago I would be working a marginally unfulfilling corporate job, or been downsized out of such a job by now. I had hoped, or more accurately assumed, that after college I was going to be handed a white collar, cubicle, nine to five job like my father told me would be waiting for me if I got my degree. I would have been relatively happy with that. Menial, sit and work, jobs seem to favor me. I am quiet, focused and motivated by perks, which most of these jobs offer. But, if this would have happened, I would have never taken a chance on being a youth minister. I would have never worked one week to make ends meet. I would have never gained a vast knowledge of tires or cell phones. I’d be a boring person with a boring job. Plus, I probably wouldn’t be back in school working on my MBA if I had gotten one of those jobs. So, in essence, there is another flaw in my five year plan that I thought would work perfectly at the time and now see how stupid it would have been. With the way the economy is going, I might have lost the “dream job” and ended up working at NTB to make ends meet. Huh, I guess maybe the five year plan would have put me in the same place in that regard. Don’t get me wrong, I am getting my MBA so that I can get one of these jobs, but I think I will appreciate it ten times more now than I would have then.

My five year plan of five years ago also included one more thing…the American dream. Yeah, a house a dog and a new car in the driveway, all the stuff that the true American dream entails. I wanted it all. I didn’t want something too fancy, though. A nice three bedroom, two bath, older home with a good sized yard and a garage. That is all I ever really fantasized about when it came to a residence. Front porch would be nice, but not necessary and of course I would have liked a good size kitchen where I could work my culinary magic. A Bloodhound or Great Dane running in the yard would have tied it all together. Oh, and let us not forget the car (truck), a new model Chevy Silverado 2500 Heavy Duty crew cab standard bed 4-wheel drive diesel. It would be a man’s truck, for the man of the house. Tough enough to handle the beatings I would give it on the weekends taking it to the lake and hauling supplies to fix up the house, but roomy and comfortable enough to pile the guy’s in for boy’s weekend and Opening Day of the Ranger’s season. Well, that is why it is a five year plan, not a five year definite. I’m still at home with my folks…don’t even have a place of my own, though I pretty much own the upstairs now. I don’t have my own dog…just family dogs that only pay attention to me when there’s food on my plate or they need to go outside. I don’t have the new truck…but I do have the truck that I bought and have paid for with my own money, which is just as good, even though it isn’t a diesel. American dreams can wait for me to make more than twenty grand a year after taxes.

As you have read, if my life had stayed the course it seemed to be on five years ago, I would be a completely different person. I wouldn’t be the Aaron that most of you know and respect (maybe even love, who knows). I probably wouldn’t have become friends with my two best friends, Jon and Fernando. I probably wouldn’t have developed the great relationships I have with my cousins now. I wouldn’t nearly respect my parents as much as I do now. I wouldn’t be as devote and knowledgeable about Catholicism as I am. I probably wouldn’t have reconnected with dear friends from high school like I have. I never would have learned a proper two-step or gained an appreciation for reggaeton music. Life just wouldn’t be the same.

Sometimes the best laid plans are just crap.

Uncle Aaron is on the Case, Literally

If any of you saw any of the Spider-Man movies over the past decade or however long, you are familiar with the wisdom that Uncle Ben passed on to Peter…”with great power comes great responsibility.” You may be asking yourself why I’m bringing this up. No, I have not gained superpowers through some strange and unforeseen accident, like an irradiated coffee mug getting chipped and then scrapping me turning me into a super barista, or, ya know, things of that nature. This is something for more serious. I’m going to be an uncle. Yes, as I had foretold in a previous blog, I am going to finally have my chance to be “crazy” Uncle Aaron. So, like Uncle Ben from Spider-Man, I will have the power to pass on amazing wisdom I have gained through my travels in this life. Wisdom like, um, oh, yeah, “if it ain’t clear, it ain’t beer.” Or, “it doesn’t matter how much you like a girl, it’s whether she’ll even look at you that matters.” Also, “if you rush to grow up, you’ll forget to.” I’ve got all kinds of gems or pearls of wisdom even though they are not really coming to me right now. I should probably write them down, which is one of them, “write that down.” I’m sort of a mix between all the best and worst role models. It will be excellent. Plus, I’ve still got like eight months to perfect everything into one cohesive strategy. It’s kind of like off season in football. I’ve got to scheme a new outlook on life that involves being a good uncle. Plans are in the works to trade some of my bad habits for some less offensive ones, but negotiations have stalled for the time being.

Aside from that fun and blessed event still to come in my life, I’ve got a new addition hounding me right now. Yes, we have inherited another one of my brother’s dogs. Their eleven month old bloodhound, June, has come to stay with us so that Josh and Rachel can square things away a little more. She, June, is a handful and with both of them working and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life, it is hard to focus on her as much as she needs. She’s a great puppy, if you can get past the dopey look on her face, the clumsiness, the hyperactivity, and the drool. I like her, though I won’t admit that in front of her. It’s a pride thing, is all. I don’t want her to know I have the upper hand. I don’t follow that alpha dog training thing nor am I some new-age yahoo. I have been called the dog-whisperer by my friends for my uncanny ability to gain the trust of dogs that usually shy away people they don’t know. Either way, I look forward to having her around, even though she makes it completely pointless to take a shower or wear clean clothes.

I don’t have a clever wrap up for this one, folks. Consider this a straight forward update on some important things in my life. That’s it…

The Madness of March

The Madness of March has begun. Although there are places in the United States where this “madness” grips people with an immovable power, I am only slightly enraged by this time of year. Of course, I do everything that everyone does during March Madness. I’ve filled out my bracket. I just spent two hours watching four games all at once. I’ve even been trying to keep track of the up and coming stars that may be going pro. But, to be completely honest with you, I am not really a basketball person. Though I enjoy college hoops a lot more than pro ball, it may rank third or tied for fourth in my list of the top team sports. I do have some issues with college basketball that only serve to aggravate my not-so-total enjoyment of the Madness of March. First and perhaps foremost overall is the incredibly long length of the shot clock. It’s almost ridiculous. Thirty-five seconds is an eternity in basketball, especially at the college level. Most of these players would qualify for semi-pro or European teams who play under professional rules with a twenty-four second clock. Giving them eleven more seconds is like giving them free reign over the court. I’m not saying it needs to be reduced to twenty-four seconds, but some reduction might make things just a little more interesting. Second, halves, as opposed to quarters or innings or intervals (thirds), are the stupidest thing to happen to sports in the post high school age group ever. Yes, soccer is played in halves, which is fine for them and their silly little business, but this is basketball. Basketball was wholly invented in the United States and deserves a better treatment than the internationalist ideals of halves. If quarters were introduced to college basketball, think of the awesomeness of the fourth quarter comeback. Think of the reimagining and restructuring of game plans that could happen to engineer the greatest games in history. Imagine the upsets we’ve seen in college basketball and the close calls…now think if they had gone the other way because coaches had a break between a third and fourth quarter to come up with greatness. I’m rambling. Third, I am not really invested in any of these teams. I’m not alum of any of these schools. Sure, I can cheer for the teams that I like and be a bandwagon fan, but I don’t have Texas or UCONN jerseys in my closet. All I can say is good luck to anyone who tries to keep my March Madness under control when the SMU Mustangs make it to the big dance. Enough said about that.

I had one of those soul searching moments today while working alone in the warehouse at work putting up tires from our warehouse delivery. Why am I such a nice guy? I’m one of the nicest guys I know. I’m the nicest guy at my shop. It doesn’t matter what you do or say to me, sooner or later I will forgive and forget. I’ll even go out of my way sometimes. I discount for people who don’t ask for or don’t need discounts. I get my friends ridiculously nice gifts for Christmas and their birthdays. I pick up the check often. I’m a horribly good tipper. I…am a serial nice guy. I think this has even affected my relationships. It’s no mistake that I’ve noticed woman gravitate to guys who treat them like crap. I’m usually the friend who hears about the bad things these guys do. I’m the shoulder that ends up getting cried on. I’m doomed to be the nice guy. Possibly, or as of right now, definitely finishing last in the relationship race amongst my friends. I know that has to do with more than just me being “too” nice a guy. I know I put up walls and am handicapping myself with high standards. This, I mulled over for about 2 hours while throwing tires around in the warehouse. That is what happens when you leave me alone with my thoughts for too long and don’t numb them out with alcohol or TV.

I’m deep.

GO IRISH...literaly, for the day...

Before you go and get blitzed tonight in the good Irish spirit, you need to learn about the man whose name is on this fantastic day. St. Patrick of Ireland is one of the world's most popular saints. Apostle of Ireland, born at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in Scotland, in the year 387; died at Saul, Downpatrick, Ireland, 17 March, 461. Along with St. Nicholas and St. Valentine, the secular world shares our love of these saints. His memorial is celebrated on March 17 and this is also a day when everyone's Irish. He didn't chase the snakes out of Ireland and he may never have plucked a shamrock to teach the mystery of the Trinity. Yet St. Patrick well deserves to be honored by the people of Ireland—and by downtrodden and excluded people everywhere. There are many legends and stories of St. Patrick, but this is his story. Patrick was born around 385 in Scotland, probably Kilpatrick. His parents were Calpurnius and Conchessa, who were Romans living in Britain in charge of the colonies. As a boy of fourteen or so, he was captured during a raiding party and taken to Ireland as a slave to herd and tend sheep. Ireland at this time was a land of Druids and pagans. He learned the language and practices of the people who held him. During his captivity, he turned to God in prayer. He wrote, "The love of God and his fear grew in me more and more, as did the faith, and my soul was roused, so that, in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers and in the night, nearly the same." Patrick said of his ministry, "I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain." Patrick's captivity lasted until he was twenty, when he escaped after having a dream from God in which he was told to leave Ireland by going to the coast. There he found some sailors who took him back to Britain, where he reunited with his family. He had another dream in which the people of Ireland were calling out to him "We beg you, holy youth, to come and walk among us once more." He began his studies for the priesthood. He was ordained by St. Germanus, the Bishop of Auxerre, whom he had studied under for years. Later, Patrick was ordained a bishop, and was sent to take the Gospel to Ireland. He arrived in Ireland March 25, 433, at Slane. One legend says that he met a chieftain of one of the tribes, who tried to kill Patrick. Patrick converted Dichu (the chieftain) after he was unable to move his arm until he became friendly to Patrick. Patrick began preaching the Gospel throughout Ireland, converting many. He and his disciples preached and converted thousands and began building churches all over the country. Kings, their families, and entire kingdoms converted to Christianity when hearing Patrick's message. Patrick by now had many disciples, among them Beningnus, Auxilius, Iserninus, and Fiaac (all later canonized as well). Patrick preached and converted all of Ireland for 40 years. He worked many miracles and wrote of his love for God in Confessions. After years of living in poverty, traveling and enduring much suffering he died March 17, 461. He died at Saul, where he had built the first church. Patrick was a humble, pious, gentle man, whose love and total devotion to and trust in God should be a shining example to each of us. He feared nothing, not even death, so complete was his trust in God, and of the importance of his mission. So, remembering all this on the day we celebrate this storied and saintly man…LET'S GET PISSED!

It is fate, both glorious and profound, that two of my best friends have their birthdays on the day before and the day of St. Patty. Jon, who has become like my rock, the steady and immovable presence in my life that reminds me both of how lucky I am and how much I need to improve myself. If you know both of us, you might be scratching your head and asking yourself if it shouldn’t be the other way around, but lately, having a friend like Jon in my life has been a blessing. Anyway, the day of the celebration of his birth was yesterday and we had a little get together at his apartment to celebrate. Jon and I had both worked yesterday so we were easing into our groove slower than usual, but still much faster than the rest. It was a nice intimate gathering that involved beer, lots of beer post the impromptu beer run, some booze, drinking games, 80’s movies (Howard the Duck, The Karate Kid), and even a beer bong. You may ask how people in their mid-twenties still party like this to celebrate their birthdays. The answer to that is that true friends, true times, don’t have an age limit. In my case however, they do have a curfew/bedtime. I skipped out earlier than I would have liked to because I had to work this morning. That didn’t do a lick of good, though, because I still got up this morning with my alarm, turned it off, then called in to work and told them I’d be late and rolled over for just a few more precious minutes. The hangover wasn’t that bad, I can handle beer hangovers pretty damn good…years of practice. I will get a chance to make up for my early exit last night on Friday when Jon is supposedly throwing the official Jon-style party. Let’s just say that work on Saturday may be a little tougher than today, but I won’t be able to call in, so I’ll just have to hang. I endure all this for my best friend, which the kind of commitment that gets you the honor of being someone’s best man. Also, though this is not a revelation, I proved once again last night that I am better at drinking games when I am drunk. I can’t play quarters worth a blunt nickel till I’ve chugged my first one.

Also, today is the celebration of the birth of my friend Fernando. We’ve had many good times, many deep times, many hard times, and many just times through our friendship, but I wouldn’t want any other friend to be my co-best friend than him. I miss him to death now that be lives in Atlanta and we don’t get to celebrate his birthday anymore like we used to, but tonight I guarantee that one round will be in his honor. He’s my Mexican-Irishman. Born on the day when everyone is Irish, he is the greatest.

I don’t have much else to say. I’ve be going on and on about how great my friends are, which is a little weird, but what can I say. Birthdays are reminders of who is really important in your life. There is not much going on in my life right now. I’ve got the house to myself for one more night, which means that sitting around in my underwear as I am right now is both refreshing and not offensive. Work is a bitch, as usual. It’s spring break and I have no plans to go anywhere or do anything other than work and lay around and be worthless, along with the consumption of alcohol from time to time. I should be studying for the exam I have the first class back from the break, but I’m being a little lazy on that one. What do you expect from me, it’s spring m*****f***ing break and I just want to enjoy not having some class to go to a couple hours after work. I don’t have plans as of yet for St. Patrick’s Day but it is only 8PM, there is plenty of time to figure something out. As a matter of fact, I have to take this call…