A few days ago I ordered 4 pillows from Amazon.com. When they shipped, I noticed right away that they shipped in 4 different packages. I immediately became suspicious, and couldn't wait to see what these things looked like. That's my Amazon Prime hard at work ($79 a year for free two day delivery on unlimited packages).

So, today they get here. Indeed, they're in 4 different packages. And they're HUGE boxes! I'm like "Holy s@#%, what did I get myself into?!?" I pictured getting rid of my bed and using just the pillows at this point; the boxes are literally that big. Hardly containing my cool, I tear into the first one. This is ridiculous. About a half a box of AIR WRAPPING and a normal sized pillow underneath. I was thrilled that my pillows didn't break during the shipping process, and I have Amazon.com and their air wrapping to thank for that.

I ordered four because originally I ordered three but could only get pillowcases in sets of two. They really f@#%@ed me over on that one. It's like hot dog buns and hot dogs. Twelve dogs and eight buns (or is it twelve buns and eight dogs???) Brutal. However, my original choice (guess) at pillows were backordered so I ordered a different brand, and this time four, because I wouldn't have the slightest clue what to do with an extra pillowcase. Maybe make a shirt out of it? I don't know. Probably give it to good will.

My brother gets home before me, so he checks the mail, and outside (we live in a trustworthy neighborhood) are these four gigantic boxes. He's like "What did this kid get this time?!?" So, he figures he better get them in. Assuming they'll be heavy, judging from the size, he gets ready for the strain. He bent over, grabbed a hold, and took one last breath before really putting all his might into lifting up these packages. I'm happy to report we didn't have to retrieve them from the roof today :)

Moral of the story: Packing guys really do care if your stuff gets to you in one piece.

We have this cafe downstairs at work. It's not affiliated with our office in any way, other than the fact that we're by far it's biggest customer, considering this company rents 2 floors out of the three in the building. The guy who owns the cafe is overweight and lazy, a destined-for-failure combination. He's alright though when he's not pissing me off, and when he's there helping his helper. They always have way too many people coming to order for the number of people they employ. Two people to serve 10 is not enough, especially when one is a lazy bastard. I have a few peeves about this guy...

Today, I go down to order, really early before anyone else gets down there, but I was too late... there were already 3 people in line... this normally equates to at least a 10 minute wait. And these people are getting wraps and other cold things... hardly does anyone get anything hot, they know better. Unless it's a hot special, which is already made. The kicker about today was there was only the dude's helper working! I knew I was in store for a wait. It took me 20 minutes to get my food. One person cannot do it, so where was the other guy?

I really don't know. But when it's him and his helper, it really doesn't make a difference. The dude will take your order while he's making someone else's sandwich. A few minutes later, when he's ready to make yours, he'll completely forget what you ordered and ask you again. Then he starts making it, then asks the next person what they want. The worst part about it is, he'll get your sandwich all packaged and ready to go and give it to you at the cash register. You get your money out, ready to pay and get the f#@%@# out of there, and he'll go take the next person's order (again, since he forgot) and start making it.

If it's just you, it's fine, but even if it's just you and people come in after he starts making your order, you can expect a delay. I'm betting another helper would work wonders... one to work the cash register.

Yes, of course, I still go there because it's a short walk away, I'm not gonna go out and spend $10 for lunch when I can go down the stairs and spend $6 for lunch... oh, and they have some kickass rye bread :)

It might be funny... ;-)

I ran out of toothpaste. Well, we can never really run out of toothpaste because we have the bubble gum flavored toothpaste in the cabinet for extreme emergencies. My brother also has one of those travel toothpaste tubes for the extreme emergencies when we're almost forced to use the bubble gum toothpaste. It's "Vanilla Mint" flavored. "MMmmmmm" you might think... well, think again. Brushing your teeth for 26 years using regular toothpaste, anything else tastes like #@$#@%@. It literally brought me to gag! And vanilla does not seem to get your teeth clean. Besides being called "Vanilla", it's brown like chocolate, which makes sense. It sucked this morning. Choosing between those two is like choosing between death by tar and feathers and death by drawing and quartering. Neither of which I am fond of. Why can't I have a death by thousand year sex thrown in there? Not to say that any toothpaste has reached that caliber to me, but that would be a sweet way to die. Then it occurred to me... why do I have to brush my teeth? It doesn't really effect me socially... I can't see my own teeth, and I can't smell my own breath, which is why people do that hot-breath-to-the-hand-up-to-the-nose routine. I might be able to taste my own breath, but that's what coffee's for. Other people will see Friday's breakfast stuck between my teeth, and be avoiding me at all costs, but I will not.. be avoiding me.

In other news, I started stringed.org over last night, and basically got to the same point before I stopped a few days ago. Except it's better now. Less stuff in more places instead of most of it in one place. It's better. I'll be done soon. Peace f#@%$@#$@#ers!!

I realized the other day that I am no longer addicted to the internet. It was fun while it lasted, but then you get bored. You see the same stuff everywhere (excluding the personal sites).

It wasn't a very long lasted addiction. During my senior year of high school (1996-1997) was when it started. I would go on our dial-up to Prodigy and go into chat rooms, because that's really all that Prodigy had, as far as I was concerned. I'd chat with people, meet "girls", talk up my mad guitar skillzzz, exchange emails, etc. Then came college.

I wasn't a very education oriented person. I found nothing in high school that interested me (except physics and math of course), so I had average grades (except in physics and math of course). By the end of high school, I was getting good grades because I basically beat the system. I knew how to do the minimal amount of work and still pass with Bs. This didn't necessarily involve studying, neither did it involve cheating... basically, I just paid attention in class and did the homework. Most of the time. See, Bs didn't require full attention and one hundred percent complete assignments. It was fun. So, when I got into college, I had to go to a "summer school" of sorts. You go there for the summer, take 3-4 classes a day, and if you pull a 2.5 average, you're in for the fall. Well, this summer, as you can imagine, was a blast. 2.5 is lower than a B! I was and probably always will be shy. However, I saw a kid there that I knew I could be friends with. One day I saw him on the computer in the computer lab, so I went in and joined him. I noticed he was in a chat room, so I asked him what chat room he was in, and he told me. We hit it off after that, being roomates for two semesters, one of which being "THE semester". Tom and I got our best grades ever during college our first semester together (Spring '98). We had Computer Science I (one) together. I whooped in that class. Put it this way, when the final came around, I was the first to hand it in, 15 minutes after I started, and Tom said it was 20 minutes before anyone else left. I aced it. I ended the semester with a 3.5 average or something. I was taking other courses, like writing and Calculus II. While Calc was extremely interesting, it was a B@#%@!! So, I got out of that year, and into the next semester, "THE semester".

The Fall 1998 semester started off really bad. During the summer I was working for my Dad as the assistant to the computer guy, saving up money to buy a computer. I got it later that summer, and that's when my life ended. Basically. The Fall '98 semester was not my best one. In fact, it was by far the worst. We're not talking "missed a few classes" here. We're talking, from around late September til the end of the semester, I went to a handful of classes. I was nocturnal. During one stretch, I slept 12 hours a day. I was the bomb that semester though, both socially and electronically. Socially, I was friends with everyone on the floor. Our room was the hangout. We'd have people in there at all hours. Our most was 14 people at one time. Electronically, I was the bomb too, as I had downloaded software (I forget what it's called) that allowed you to run a P2P server. I had so many people on that server, downloading files, uploading files, chatting with each other, leaving me messages, etc. All told I left that semester with about $12000 worth of software that was not paid for, and about 1500 mp3s. (I should mention that I no longer found any of that software useful and deleted it all).

This server ended my chance to graduate college ever. Or so I thought.

After that semester, I convinced my parents to let me go back to school. Luckily, they bought it. I went back and graduated with a B+ in my field of study, so it worked out. That semester was also my enlightenment period. I had Computer Science II, and was completely lost. However, towards the end of the semester, just playing around (because I didn't go to classes, but still loved writing programs), I became enlightened to Object Oriented Programming with C++. The s@#%@ just made sense after that.

That was pretty much the strongest point of my internet addiction. After that, it dwindled down to what it is today, where I can't f@#%$#$!$12 stand the internet. I can read the news though, or a handful of personal sites that I visit, or slashdot, but if I find myself just clicking s#@%$ mindlessly, I'll just walk away most of the time. The other times, I'll close my browser and do something else, like program. Or play a game. Or go outside and play with the dog.

That's one addiction that I'm happy to get rid of -- the internet in general. I have to kick this email addiction next. I check 34,859 times a day. Although, I will easily go a few days without it, so it might be a matter of just throwing out my cable modem. Share or link your stories below!

Well, to me I won, as in I put in $10 for the buy-in, and left with $20! I came in second place. We were playing Texas Hold 'em. At the start, the cards were falling for me. I won the first hand, which was a nice boost in confidence (and chips). Then I sat back for a few hands, then won a hand with 4 (FOUR) KINGS!!! That was a huge hand, and I basically had enough chips to last me a while. Two others were in the hand, and they were betting because they had full houses with 3 Kings on the board. I had a king in my pocket and just kept betting. The last King fell on the river, which made everyone bet huge. I knew I couldn't be beat, so those guys were the ones gambling, not me. I'll tell you though, my heart was pounding for a good five minutes after that hand. The adrenaline rush is nothing that can be beaten.

Those two were pretty much the only good hands I had. I did eliminate two people, my brother Pat and Jeff's coworker, and coincidentally a guy who I went to high school with, Joe. For Pat, I caught a 10 on the river or something. For Joe, I had A, J suited spades, and he went in with nothing, and got nothing. I think I won with the high card. When it came down to just three of us, I was the definite underdog. Two of Pat's friends, Mitch and Tim, were the other two left. They had mountains of chips like I had towards the beginning of the game, only multiplied by 6 other people's chips. I had basically the same amount I had since I won the Kings pot. You win some and you lose some... I tripled up a hand with those two, going all in and both of them calling. I forget what I had because after poker, we all went to Casey's and got ripped. Then the one hand. 8, J, J on the flop. Tim goes all in like he has 8,J in the pocket. Mitch has an 8, and after several minutes of deliberation, he calls. I was long gone on this hand since I was dealer. Tim has neither, and no cards fall to help him. He's gone. I almost conceded victory since I had around 800 chips, and Mitch had like a bazillion. Three hands later I go all in on a suited combo, like K, 10 or something. I lost. But I won $10! Mitch won $60.

That's always a blast. It's a great way to spend $10, if you last a while. Then you go to the bar and talk about the great hands that everyone played.

What a weekend. Friday night, played NHL 2k6 with Beaner and his friends (we do a tournament). Bean's getting pretty good, but I still won the tournament. He wasn't his normal team, Colorado Avalanche (my lack of internet connection to my PS2 disables the useful feature in NHL 2k6 to update the rosters from the internet, so Colorado still has Peter Forsberg, not the Flyers). After his friends left, we played into the wee hours of the morning. Which wasn't a great idea, even a little bit, because the next morning I had to wake up at 8am.

But I got up on time. Woke up, dead to the world, craving an extra large coffee from Dunkin Donuts. I had to go to the bank, too, to deposit my weekly paycheck so I could pay rent and utilities this month. No problem. At 10am, I had to meet Gia to use my Dad's employee discount at the paint store so she wouldn't break the bank on painting her new house. We got like $350 worth of equipment for like $230. Not bad, thanks Dad!

That's when the fun started! With about a bazillion square feet of wallpaper to remove, two scrapers seemed insufficient. However, TG and I plowed ahead, making little to no progress, while Gia and M.E. painted the bedroom. It's always a good idea to have two girls paint the bedroom with no ventilation. After about 4 hours, they have left reality, and have entered a place that I like to call "High". I go in there, and they're painting inflammatory remarks about each other on the walls, painting the window, spilling paint, and laughing like lunatics. It was funny.

After around 8 hours of working, everyone was like "%#$#!@ this, I'm going home". There was more work to be done the next day, so I just went to Gia's apartment. We just got wasted and watched standup comedians like Dane Cook and Martin Lawrence, before pausing Martin and doing our own drunken comedy act. The Jason and Gia Show will be coming to your hometown soon! We just have some acts to finalize, but we are a riot. We literally just cracked ourselves up with about 8 gallons of liquor in us. Shortly after that, I broke my toe. And Gia's friend Ray came over with some beer in a schoolbag, and I passed out from exhaustion. Ok, not only exhaustion. By the end of the night, we had killed a bottle and a half of wine, 3/4 bottle of rum, and a small amount of vodka. We were blitzed.

Painting, Day 2. We never actually painted anything. Well, I didn't. I was on wallpaper detail the whole damn time. There I was, hungover as all hell and with a broken toe, trying to act productive. I drank about 3 gallons of water (when I'm hungover, I just get thirsty like a mofo), and stripped wallpaper all day. My brother called wanting to play a video game, and while I was on the phone, Gia wanted a smoke, so I went out with her. You should have seen her face when I was telling my brother the new buttons in the game to get to know. I was like "Press G to throw a grenade, and 4 for a smoke grenade." Her face said "OMG YOU ARE SUCH A GEEK WTF??!!?" Classic. Eyes rolling and everything. WTF Gia. WTF.

Finally got home around 7pm on Sunday. I looked at my toe shortly after, and determined that not only did it hurt like hell, it indeed is broken. Disgusting. I can go to the doctor, but for a broken little toe, all he'll say is like "Yup, you're right, it's broken. Have fun with that", and I would have made the trip to the doctor for nothing, when I can just grab some electrical tape from my drawer and tape that s@#% up.

Anyway, fun times. Luckily we don't have to continue working on Gia's house this weekend :) She gave us off for Christmas.

(Editor's Note: That title comes from Mitch Hedburg, while we were on the topic of standup comedians. "Hey, Peter Frampton, Do you like toast, too?" You have to listen, it's hilarious.)

I really do, just not when there are other people on the road. I am a fun loving guy, but when someone's applying their brakes all the way down a hill, limiting them to 30 mph, and I'm stuck behind them, forced to brake with them, then I just want to rip their head off. I don't care, I hate them. It's road rage, but where my fun loving side comes in, and what will prevent me from ever doing anything violent (even anything as gruesomely violent as 'honking the horn'), is when we part ways, and a good song comes on, I am no longer angry.

Yesterday, I'm following this car, they turn left where I also have to turn left, and as they're making the turn, they come to nearly a complete stop. I'm like "WTF ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!" It turns out, it was an old lady. I don't have any preconceived notions, really, about how old ladies should drive. I have learned to devoid myself of stereotyping, and old lady drivers are one of the groups that I don't stereotype. Simply because my Grandmom, who we address as "Nanny", has not fit into this stereotype for as long as I've known her. I remember one day in high school, my parents were away and she was at our house watching us, and she had to drive me to school. After the first stop sign, I put my seat belt on! She guns it!

I've learned to re-classify the drivers of the road... not necessarily "dumb" and "smart", or "female" or "old", but "confident" and "doubtful". People who brake down the hill are either doubting their ability to drive or their car's ability to handle, or they're just scared that a cop will pull them over. People who have confidence in their ability to drive (and lack a backseat driver or someone to yell at them for going so fast [who, coincidentally, lacks the confidence in their driver]) generally go 50 down a winding road and enjoy the time they spend doing it, rather than being scared.

Another class is the "non-courteous" drivers. It's 8:15 AM, people have to be in work soon, yet you'll find one driver on a one lane road, going 38 in a 40, holding back EVERYONE behind them. Have some courtesy. Plus, you won't get pulled over! Just go like 46 or so. Speed limits are merely suggestions when there's no cops around.

With all this speed talk, there is a cautious side to me. You'll never see me going more than 15mph on a street where there could possibly be kids outside playing. So, if you're behind me on one of these roads, and I'm pissing you off because I am going so slow, then I'm sorry. However, on any other road not covered in snow or ice, I won't hold you up :)

I hope everyone reads this one. Please, link it everywhere!! Especially if you're in south east Pennsylvania.

Yesterday was my Aunt Cubbie's 65th birthday. We all went to Drexelbrook to hold a surprise party for this wonderful lady who is always whereever you would least expect her to be, like at your sporting events growing up, or every party you've ever had, who never forgets your birthday, who helps raise your kids if you're lucky enough to have any, and a number of other comments from everyone else in the room who had a story or a thank you for her and got the microphone from my Uncle Dave.

There was a DJ, and he played decent music, and some Sinatra, which I never object to. He also sang. He was pretty good. He played Mony Mony, and I found out that you can do the E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES!!! chant to it during the chords played after such lines as "Here she comes now saying Mony Mony". It fits perfectly. I started it, Steve noticed, then everyone at our table, the lucky number three, joined in during the next two verses. It was awesome.

We all walked out at the same time, me and my five brothers, when everyone else was in a circle on the dance floor, thirty to forty people, holding hands, dancing to "That's what friends are for." We figured it was time to go. It was almost 4 o'clock, the Eagles start at 4:15. We are studs. We all practically ran to our cars. We all would meet at The Beast's house, a shrine to the Eagles. Everywhere you look, there's a picture of an Eagles' player, or a football, or a PlayStation2 controller, lots of Eagles stuff.

The argument started after the Cowgirls' second touchdown. He dove out of bounds and reached across the goal line out of bounds, the ball seemingly never crossing the plane of the endzone, marked by the pylon, in bounds. It was ruled a touchdown. It was a big argument! It was fun though. I was watching for cops because I had about 5 Yuengling bottles, a Heineken bottle, and 2 Yuengling cans all day, I was feeling pretty good, yet somehow I manage to come up with some help for the argument. It was Steve, me, and the Dallas fan (Kel) vs. everyone else. It wasn't anti-Eagles or pro-Dallas, it was just football. My evidence came in this form... If you are running down the sideline, holding the ball over the out of bounds, you are not considered out of bounds. If your feet leave the field, then, all it takes for you to be out of bounds is your feet or the ball touching the ground out of bounds. Therefore, diving out of bounds, crossing the plane of the endzone is a touchdown. Steve argued that the pylon either marks the endzone straight up to infinity or the endzone goes all the way around the world. He knew the rules, and knew that it goes all the way around the world, and brought up a website on Beast's computer, owned and maintained by a former NFL Referee, that proved his point.

The others felt more like yelling. I have to admit, yelling is fun when you're drunk, especially doing the EAGLES chant during Mony Mony and on the way out of a party with all five of your brothers. Steve was willing to take back the bets. He had bet $20 with Pat and also with The Beast. He was saying "Are you sure you want to bet me? I'll let you take it back now, if you want, before it's proven and you'll owe me." I don't know if he was showing uncertainty or just being nice. Actually, I do know, he was being nice.

It was pretty funny. Steve soon became known as Pylon and some variants like Pylon boy. If there's one thing that my family is really good at, it's giving people nicknames. Not me though, although I do have some notoriety in the field. My brother Pat is named "Patter" because of me not being able to say his full name, Patrick, when my Mom introduced him to me when they brought him home from the hospital. I was 2, give me a break. Also, my brother Jeff lost one of his teeth when he was 11, playing hockey. So he's had a replacement ever since. He loses it sometimes, and the last time, very recently, he was going to have a temporary replacement until the real tooth came in. It was made out of porcelain! I came up with "Toilet Tooth" :) It never stuck though. Scott is the master nicknamer. The Beast is The Beast because of Scott. There are plenty others, like Stork, who was watching with us yesterday.

It was a great time. I woke up at around noon, and by 1:30 I was feeling pretty good. The dedication to my Aunt was great, she deserves it, and a whole lot more.

Today, I left work at 4, being my last day and all. We had gone out to lunch to celebrate my 5 months of service, all too short was everyone's sentiment. Four of us from work. My boss, 2 coworkers and me. We had a great time and the food at Maggiano's (12th and Filbert) is delicious. I got some rigatoni with some kind of incredible cream sauce and chicken. My boss ordered chicken parmesan and knew he wasn't going to eat all of it, so right away he gave one piece of chicken to me to take home. Also, being my last day, they insisted that I get dessert. This was music to my ears. They have the best pound cake ever. Ever. I sat and ate pound cake, and Towanda got coffee. It was bittersweet, just like Towanda's coffee, as she told us, she put too much "Splendid" (at least I think that's what it's called) sugar substitute in it, and only took a few sips from it.

It's amazing how short five months is, but it's amazing how long it is at the same time. Manoj (my other coworker that was there) and I had a great time working together. As did my boss Dave and I. We just joked around when we could, and were serious when we had to be. Funny guys, fun times. We all went to a few ballgames, work sponsored of course. I was the expert. Everyone would ask me about the game, about the Phillies, who to watch for, who's good, who stinks, etc. It was before the All Star game, before the Polanco trade, so the answer to the "who's good" question was Placido Polanco and Bobby Abreu. Of course, Chase Utley too, but he didn't play at the games that I went to with them, it was the time when Chollie would swap Polanco and Utley depending on the pitcher. Our boss (my boss' boss) worked out of Chicago, and he would conveniently be in Philly during the work sponsored Phillies games. He's a big fan of baseball, so he wouldn't need to ask me about the game, only about the Phillies. He noticed that the batting average of the Phillies as a team was in the mid 200s, which is pretty good, and wondered why they were so bad at the time. It's all about hitting with runners in scoring position. The Phillies season is an altogether different story, however... But we had a great time at those games. Five months is a long time because those games seemed like forever ago.

It was my first job in the city. I was a total n00b when it came to public transportation, but my luck always turns up. I got to the trolley on the first day. Obviously, having no idea how to get on the train or where to buy tokens, or how much anything was, or even what stop to get off at the train when I got going on it, I was scared to death. Waiting at the trolley, this guy comes up. He looks very familiar, but I don't say anything. He goes in the trolley first. I go in and am a total n00b, so I'm trying to pay, asking how much money it costs and everything. I pay and head to find a seat on this jam-packed trolley. I head up, and Chris, my brother's friend, the guy waiting for the trolley with me, recognizes me right away, and has a seat available for me. We shoot the sh%t, but I'm lost, so I have to ask what the f@#% the deal is with public transportation. He sets me straight. Buy a card, he says. He also will show me where to go when we get there. He works at 5th street, I worked at 11th, so he was on the train the whole time I was, and saw me to my stop. I had mastered public transportation, thanks to Chris.

It was very interesting working in the city. Everyday you'd see someone who you thought was either on an incredible amount of drugs or alcohol, or they were just plain crazy. We have ash trays outside of our building, so you'd see some people rummaging through them to satisfy a nicotine craving. Or they would ask you for a smoke, or maybe some money. I gave them money because I'm an optimist, always thinking they would spend it on food and not drugs. At least I gave the more seemingly sane people money. Like today, this guy comes up, and says "Can you help out a hungry man?" following with stuff about God. I said "I think I can help you out", and he said something about God seeing me give him money. I smiled at him. I accidentally started pulling out a $20 bill!! He's like "that'll do!". I told him I can't. I could, but it's my last day, and if I give him a dollar, he's well on his way to eating. Only if he had came to me earlier, I had a piece of chicken he could have had, but by this point, it was on the 19th floor of my building. It was worth more than a dollar though, when you meet someone like that, and are able to help them out a little.

So, I got home today at 5pm. I was going over some last things with my boss until 4, then went and said goodbye to everyone. My boss and I sat out front of our building and talked for a bit. He's displayed sincere discontent with what was going on. My department had cut my position. It wasn't finalized until two Mondays ago, September 19th. Manoj and I were the only developers in the department, and now it's just Manoj again. What we did every day was a lot more work than two people can handle. We were a good team, led by Dave, a good leader. I have gained some great experience to put on my resume. Also, I have outstanding references. My boss was "Employee of the Quarter" last quarter. That's out of, oh, nothing huge, just a couple thousand. There are 250,000 people employed by the company, but I think that award was just a departmental award. His boss, the Chicago-based- except-when-the-company- sponsors-a-Phillies-game boss, had sent my resume to other departments in the company. I was floored. However, nothing turned up there, but I can see myself getting called by them in the future, having been pushed by him, someone way up in the company and a great guy to boot. It's overwhelming, the lengths that great people will go to, the offers those people will make, the friendships you can make in 5 months. Afterall, it seems like such a short time.

My brother and his friend were out front drinking when I got home. I headed out to join them. I had a beer, sat with them for a bit, then decided I was going to eat my chicken. It had been 3 hours since I had last eaten afterall. Soon after, I felt like every bit of energy had just left my body at once. I was completely spent. I crashed right there on the couch, right after I had mustered up enough strength to put the fork down. I soon stumbled up to my bedroom. I almost seemed drunk, because I was relying on the wall to guide me, yet I had only one beer. I woke up at around 11pm.

I checked mlb.com. Phillies won, Astros lost. The Cubbies have now taken two games away from the Astros. We could be on the verge of a miracle. However, Roger Clemens pitches next for the Astros.

I'm going to play some video games. Good night world. Go Phillies / Eagles / Flyers!

Man, so many hilarious things happened this weekend. We went down to my parents' house in Lewes, DE, went golfing once, and went to the beach the rest of the time that any of us had any energy.

First story. The $0.75 Kite. Pat, who sometimes seems to be younger than my niece, and we forget that he's 24, saw this kite in "Happy Harry's Discount Drugs" on Route 9 in Lewes, and had to have it. Beaner, my real youngest brother, almost 19, got a two stringed kite, built to last, maneuverable, for a suggested retail price probably four times higher than Pat's plastic flap shaped as an eagle, two wooden bars, and some string, thrown together to form something that might resemble something that at one time had flown. However, he built this thing, and got it flying in a few seconds. Beaner, on the other hand, had a tough time getting his "expensive" kite built, and could only hold it up in the air for a few seconds before it came careening to the earth each time. Beaner gave up soon. Pat, however, was having a blast. A knot had formed, Pat just cut around it and retied the strings together. It was not worth the time he could be spending flying the thing. I was pitching a wiffle ball to different people so I got a good view. Pat was now over by our truck on the beach, and we were using the grooves in the sand from all the vehicles traveling up and down the beach as our pitching lane and home plate. There was another truck coming. The kite was high, but it started coming down. This was the beauty of it. The truck and the kite met, perfectly, so that the string of the kite got caught under an opening in between where the roof rack mounts to the roof. Perfect. Pat started yelling, I almost fell over laughing, then Pat just gave up, let go of the string, and so ended his $0.75 investment. Everyone soon came up from their seats and joined in the laughter and watched this truck drive a half of a mile down the beach with a kite flying behind it. This thing had some slack. It had about 15 feet of string from the roof rack, so it kept flying in circles, crashing into other trucks on the beach, taking out little kids, and everything else you think might be funny. It was a great time.

There were a TON more laugh out loud times. But, I'll tell you a story of choking. Athletic disappointment. No, I'm not talking about the Phillies right now.

We all went golfing, 5 of us. Dad, Jeff, Pat, Brendan (Beaner) and me. We were short 2 brothers, but I surely wouldn't be able to tell this story if Steve came, he would have whooped all of our asses. We play 9 holes of this par 3 course. Bean plays in his sandals, and takes them off to hit. First hole for me, just on the fringe, 15 feet to go. Sink the putt. Beautiful. The day went mostly like this for me. Nice chips when I had to, not too awful putting. I was in the lead the whole round. I had 3 or 4 bogies, a birdie, and the rest pars. Ninth hole. They're all like "choke!!" and "noonan!!". I hit a nice shot again, short though, but right at it. My lie sucked. In the dirt, practically. I had a short chip, I tried to get it up, but picked my head up. I had no idea how many strokes lead I had, but I was now on the other side of the green. I said "F@%@#$!@# that, I'm putting". Nice putt, short, but I had a long way to go. Had to make the next putt, I now know, but didn't then. Hit it, lipped it, ended up 2 inches from the cup. Double bogie. My first 5 of the day. Dad taps in for par, I lose by a stroke! SOB!!

Woohoo!! No Monday this week!

This Friday is awesome, because the next time I go to work is Tuesday. We're heading down Delaware this weekend. I plan on getting ripped. Anyway, I promised a story, so here it is.

This is about a younger Jason. A six year old Jason, to be exact. Some of the details are fuzzy, but I do remember most of it. I'll just tell what I remember, though. So, a long time ago, 20 years or so, I used to be quite the entrepreneur. I remember there was this GI Joe figure that I wanted. It was sort of a technological marvel. I remember thinking, if they could make this thing, then we should be living on the moon by the time I was 10. It was the dude whose skin color changed when brought in and out of the sun. I had seen it at "Clover" a few weeks before, going for what I remember was $7 or so. I was determined. That thing would be mine.

But instead of your normal money earning routines, like selling lemonade on the corner for 25 cents a pop, or asking your parents for it, or ... God, who knows how kids who were six years old got money back then. All I know is, within a few hours, I had enough money to buy the figure and his vehicle. If someone remembers the name, please let me know.

This is how I got the money. I went to the closest house to ours, right across the street. I knocked and said "Do you have any chores I can do for you, for $1??" Within minutes I was in this old guy's dining room, wiping down his chairs with some wood cleaning solution. He was helping. $1 in the bag. The only other one I really remember going to, I knocked, and she said "No hun, but that's so sweet, here's a dollar." I did small common chores, I assume, in 8 houses, minus the lady who just gave me a dollar. Maybe someone gave me a five and told me to keep it. I don't remember. But, I had my money, and off I went to Clover, a department store.

I don't remember much from Clover (part of Strawbridge and Clothier's), but I guess I grabbed the toy and went to pay for it. The lady rung it up at the cash register. This part I do remember. I was SHORT!!! However, the lady behind me offered to cover the rest of it, and wanting my toy and being SIX years old, I didn't feel bad about it. She paid the rest, I thanked her, I went on my way.

At this time, my Mom was going mental. She had no idea where I was. Sorry, Mom, I had business to attend to. I got back, and she was waiting right inside the door. I tried to hide the toy that I worked so hard to earn, but I had done just that... earned it. I should have been proud. I don't remember if I got "taught a lesson" or not, but I didn't feel the urge to go out earning money again, no other toys were as cool. I played with that thing FOREVER. That was my favorite toy by far. Plus, I had gone through the full cycle of buying something. Earn money, pay for the goods, borrow money from someone. These were lessons no one could learn in a better way.

The thing I thought of today was, if I had been saving money instead, maybe putting away fifty cents here, a dollar there, etc, I could have probably not gone out working for my money. That's how I am to this day. I don't save. I try to, but then something that I have to have, whether it is beyond our times technologically like the GI Joe figure, or just a plain old necessity, comes along and I buy it. Bills are another thing.

Ahh, memories. Enjoy your three day weekend!!

Here's something most of you will never do: Eat free pizza on the 19th floor in my building on the 15th Anniversary of Stevie Ray Vaughan's tragic death. My department is not currently hiring "Jason Connell website readers" for immediate openings, so that's a safe bet.

This Friday is particularly sweet because it's the last day of the El Shuttle train substitution pain in the F#@$@#$# ASS. Today, in the extra 20 minutes or so it takes the shuttle to get me to work, I listened to most of Mitch Hedberg's "Mitch All Together" CD again. What makes it funnier is the fact that people will think I'm insane if I just bust out cracking up. I remember in Computer Science II, in Dr. Wynters' lab, I grabbed a stack of printer paper, since we were conveniently sitting right next to the printers, and threw it in my school bag since I needed paper and figured there was no way in hell I was going to pay for that S@#%@# when I could just "borrow" the school's paper. I determined that it was already paid for, since, on more than one occassion, I had gone to a class, any class, only to realize that the professor (not Dr. Wynters, he was always there) was sick, ripping me off of a percentage of that semester's tuition. Anyway, where the F@#%@# was I heading with this story.......... oh yeah. So, my friend Pete is sitting next to me in class and sees me do this. He just loses it! But it's one of those silent losing it bits. Our computer monitors block the teacher's vision of us, so it's like he's teaching to a bunch of backs of monitors with legs. He can't see Pete turning purple. I begin to realize that what I did wasn't that funny, but Pete trying to hold back a tidal outburst of laughter is unbelievably funny, so now I lose it. This went on for like 15 minutes before class ended. What was odd is that Pete nor I ever talked about it. It was funnier left back in the lab, because talking about it really isn't funny at all. All you can say about it is stuff like "You were laughing, so I was laughing, then you noticed me laughing again, and started laughing harder, then I noticed and started laughing harder..." That 's F!^#$ing boring. Another time is when Jeff or Pat insert words into certain prayers at church that are hilarious, but more funny because you can't laugh like you want to. Man, them's are some good times.

Holy crap, I really went astray on that one. Yes, listening to Mitch Hedberg on the bus is a good time :) Enjoy your weekend. The pizza was delicious.

Thanks, everyone, for coming to the game on Saturday. I usually judge how successful a party is by how sunburnt I am, how little I remember of it, and how much money I have left in my wallet. The wallet one is usually a shock, like "I spent $80 last night?!!?" but never have I had more money than I started with, so that made it extra successful :) If anyone got too wasted (I won't point fingers) then please forgive them, for they know not what they do after many, many beers, and not drinking that much just might not be an option for them during this stage of their life. Don't get too angry, I am talking about me, so don't be like "what a DICK!!! he drank more than me!!" :) I got home that night, ate some wawa (thanks Tom!) and turned on the news because I wondered how the Phillies did that day.

So, thank your guests for me if they aren't on this email. I hope everyone had as good a time as me, and I hope we can do it again soon.

Love Always,

Jason

Yes, I said "Love Always". And NO ONE said anything about it! I was expecting a "awww, I love you too" or "dude, you're never coming out with us again..." Something. I had to mention it to someone and she had "figured you just must be an emotional type of guy...really emotional". Oh well, it was fun :) I had way too many beers that day, but I sent that email on Monday, so they had to figure it was not from the alcohol, right?! Unless I was bombed at 11 am on a MONDAY. On the first day of my New JOB!? I don't care that I only waited 8 hours before pointing out the error in their ways. They still should have checked their email and responded to me right away, putting every bit of the email under intense scrutiny. As if they have more important things to do with their lives.

We were at a Phillies game and I did wonder how they did when I got home. It wasn't really from the beer, we got in the game at around the 5th inning, got to our seats, and then a few people went to get cheesesteaks. I didn't get back to my seat until the 7th or 8th inning, and before I knew it, it was over. What a blast!

[Later on...] Ahh, the glorious jokes that come out of mistypings and misspellings:

Tom: I won't tell a sole
Me : i'm glad you won't tell any shoes
Tom: shut up

Or just quality humor about drinking...

Me : i like lyrical humor, but i can't get it out when i'm drinking. i can hardly form words, let alone think of long words to say

Here are two things that might make you laugh.

Coming up to a "left arrow green light" today, the left arrow green light went out, meaning oncoming traffic will soon be coming. After the light went out, the car in front of me went, I went, and I look in my rear view and TWO MORE cars went!! It was worth a post. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Another story came into my mind. My friend, John, and I were coming home from somewhere that makes you cross the trolley tracks up near Garrett and Burmont. Well, we start to cross the trolley track even after noticing that the lights are blinking. Keep in mind they don't have those things that drop down and are normally made of wood painted red and white. We swore we JUST got over the tracks, and John looked in his rear view, and ANOTHER car made it over fine!! Trolleys do have brakes, but still, that thing was close, I was in the passenger seat and it was coming at us from that side. Sometimes I count my blessings :)

I don't have anymore :(

There was almost a ruling that cable lines used for high speed internet are open lines, and any company can provide internet access on them. I'm happy with my service provider, they keep raising the bar. I get 10Mbps, which is enough for browsing the web, streaming a video, playing a game, and streaming radio stations on 4 computers and still have room left over for more ;) Read the article.

Last night's performance by my little brother, Beaner, was a smashing success. I created 13 videos of them performing. (There is a problem with the download page. It'll be fixed tomorrow, but in the meantime, download a file, click back on "downloads" when you're done, click another category and go back to the one you want to download from, then it should be fine.) The songs that Beaner performs are all copyrighted 2005 Brendan Connell. You can't make out what he's singing anyway, but just don't be a @#%@^@$@ and steal his very creative, very good music. He put his heart and soul into the creation of every one of them, and puts his heart and soul into each one's performance. I also have 20 pictures for your viewing pleasure, including a few of me.

I knew this would catch up with me. Every $@#%@^ time when the train is about to leave, you hear the computer voice say "Doors are closing", at which point, anyone trying to get on the train goes into a mad rush for the door. Some people make it. Others don't. This one guy kicked the door of the car that I was in. Other people seem a bit less defeated. They look up at the ceiling, sigh, and sit there and wait for the next train. These are the most entertaining 5 seconds of my day. So, today, guess who's at the top of the stairs at 69th Street terminal when the conductor says "Watch the doors, watch the doors." Yes. Me. At that point, I stepped down the first step or two without looking, only to find the janitor @#%@#^^#! sweeping the stairs, taking up the whole width of that stairwell. So I go back up the two stairs, and go down the left side. At about the 3rd step down, the computer voice comes on "Doors are closing." @$%&@$!!!! I continue running down the stairs, in the dire hopes that someone's head gets caught in the automatic doors, rendering them incapable of closing. It's not a huge stairwell, maybe 15 stairs, but that seems like eternity when you have about 2 seconds to get to the doors. At the bottom of the stairs, I was so panicked. It took all of my strength and self control to not scream like a girl. I turn and look at the closest door to me. This couple was trying to get in, so they stopped the doors from closing, but I knew there would only be a small window for escape. The doors opened all the way and started closing right away. I would have dove, but by this point I was through without even letting the door hit me on the butt. I was so slick. Thank God I didn't scream like a girl. If I had and still made it, I would be getting some weird looks.

More site updates coming soon.