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Archive for the month “March, 2012”

I Went Sky Diving Bitches!

Ho-ly shit.

Let me preface this whole article by saying that never in a million years did I think I would ever do anything like this, but shit, I guess when in Australia do as the Australians do. And apparently every Australian has gone sky diving so I decided to say screw it and go for it.

And it was fucking awesome.

The whole time while I was driving to the dive spot I kept thinking I was going to be nervous. I couldn’t have been any more wrong.

The minute we walked into the hangar my guide introduced himself by saying, “Hey, my name’s Kip, and this is my 8,000th dive.” Well shit, kinda hard to feel nervous after that kind of an introduction.

I piled into a propeller plane slightly larger than a shoebox with five other friends and dive instructors and took off into bright blue skies. After what seemed like eternity climbing, the plane finally hit 14,000 feet. As soon as we did the pilot yelled something to the instructors. The door in the rear of the plane was opened, we walked to the edge, and before I knew what was happening I was free falling from 14,000 feet.

I don’t know how to properly describe the sensory overload you experience when you fall out of a plane. It’s surreal. For a moment, at the very beginning, the clear skies seemed to blend into the turquoise waters of the Pacific Ocean, and you don’t know which way is up and which way is down. As you fall, you lose all sense of hearing as the wind buffets past your ears at speeds up to 90 miles an hour. But it’s not an alarming feeling. It’s a sublime feeling. You feel completely at ease. You look out as your falling and realize that there’s no place you’d rather be than where you are at that moment. It’s euphoric. I was told that I was free falling for 60 seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. In my estimation, those first sixty seconds are what Nirvana must feel like.

After my parachute was pulled I descended to Wollongong beach feeling completely ecstatic. I honestly can’t do justice to the experience through writing, so instead I’ll just include the videos of the jump.

Recapping The Trip So Far

I’ve been out here for about two months and I realized a couple things. The first, is that I’ve become a full blown alcoholic, and no longer can be considered a productive or even functioning member of society. The second, is that this place is incredible, and is possibly the most beautiful country I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. The biggest regret I have from this trip so far is that I already booked my return flight, and that I didn’t apply for a green card. Well that and I was too hungover to go hiking in the Blue Mountains after Mardi Gras festivities, but I digress. I don’t think anyone who reads this blog can actually understand how amazing of a culture it is out here without experiencing it first hand, and I honestly don’t have enough faith in my writing ability to make the bold assumption that I could ever in a million years enumerate it in this blog. But hey, I might as well give it the old college try. I’ll describe my average day here:

11 AM: Wake up.
11:15 AM: Realize I missed lecture.
11:20 AM: Pretend to be angry with myself, and put on facade I give a shit about school.
11:25 AM: Head to beach. Step off the bus to be greeted by brown sandstone bluffs that disappear into surging waves as bright blue as any ocean you’ve ever seen. Walk to white sand beaches and pass out to sleep away last night/ the morning’s hangover.
Noon-5PM: Play football/ surf/ play baseball on the beach to pass the time. Maybe hit the bars for happy hour, maybe just stay at the beach as long as I possibly can.
5 PM- Whenever the hell I call it a night: Eat dinner, drink cheap wine, and hang out with the most relaxed group of guys I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and pre game the bars with some of the most beautiful and down-to-earth girls you’ll ever see.

That’s literally my entire day to a tee. Seriously. I don’t make plans. I don’t accomplish anything. I literally go through each day having as much fun as I possibly can, in the most recklessly irresponsible way possible. They say ignorance is bliss, so I must be one stupid asshole (correction: Not must be one, I am). In my short time here I’ve gotten to scuba dive on coral reefs that glow, rafted down the world’s oldest untouched rainforest, and gotten to play with kangaroos (on a separate note, kangaroos are fucking adorable). I understand that anyone who has the displeasure of having to read this blog probably could give two shits how much fun I’m having, but this post isn’t meant to be boastful. This blog is meant to illustrate how amazing the people in my life that have gotten me here are. Be it my parents never flinching when I told them I wanted to study 10,000 miles away, or my friend Jason never letting me spend a night inside on the couch, the people and places I’ve seen and met on my trip out here have given me more than I could ever give back. I’ve always heard that you are who you surround yourself with, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt if I turn out to be half the person that all of you are, than I’ll have done pretty good for myself. Everyday out here I get the chance to experience something awe-inspiring. Each time I wake up I understand that my day, at least in some small portion, has the potential to be unlike anything I’ve ever known. That each moment out here, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, has the ability to turn into a memory that burrows itself into the deepest recesses of my mind. The type of memories that years from now I’ll be able to look back on, recall the people and places I’ve seen and been to, and understand that each and everyone holds a meaningful spot in my heart. I’ve always said that hindsight is 20-20, and that people tend to always look at the past through sepia-toned lenses. People are too quick to say, “Back when I was a kid.” and then talk wistfully how the past was a better time and rue how times have changed. But in my humble opinion, there has never been a better time than the present. What’s in the past will stay there, and while memories, as I’ve said, are well and good, we shouldn’t allow those memories to hinder our capability to experience new things. Which is why about a month ago, I decided to say screw it, and went bungy jumping. Well now today, in the same spirit of trying to achieve something incredible and new each day, I’m going to go jump out of an airplane at 14,000 feet. If you had told me I’d be doing this eight months ago I would’ve called you crazy.

Anyways, to sign off on this incredibly watered down and probably poorly-written post (I choose not to edit any of these posts because I’m entirely too lazy), I’ll say this. A friend of mine named Bill from back in the states told me the other day, that I need to start living more, and get out and experience all this country has to offer beyond the constant bar scene. Thanks for the advice Bill, you got me to get off my ass and jump off a plane.

Here are photos of everything I’ve done so far in this trip. Thanks to everyone who’s been involved so far, I hope I can continue making memories with all of you.

Cheers,
Rob


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My First Photographs

Sooo I’ve been taking a photography class since I’ve come over to the country and recently finished my first roll of film. When I say my first roll of film I mean these are literally the first photographs I have ever taken. Ever. Obviously the vast majority of them are complete shit, as you would probably expect, but some of them are pretty cool, which is surprising cause the thought of me producing anything of any artistic value is mind-numbing. Anyways check them out if you want, if not I really don’t give a shit.

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Wednesday Morning Wake-up

So I’m watching Eastbound and Down last night and Kenny Powers shows up to his friends funeral with a boom box blasting “Alive” by Pearl Jam. Which got me thinking, if you could have one song played at your funeral, what would you choose? I personally had a bit of trouble with this one. Should I go with something more traditional, like a proven tear jerker? Something like “In My Life” by The Beatles or Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven”? You play either of those at your funeral and it’s gonna be fucking sob city. Just waterworks everywhere. Guaranteed. Even if you were a total jackass (see: me) people would be weeping non-stop just talking about what a great guy I was, when in reality I really haven’t accomplished anything of merit in my entire life. But I’m not sure I want all of that commotion at my funeral. I think I want to keep the mood light, you know, keep the people on their feet. Have people come in expecting something like “Dust in the Wind” and then maybe hit them with a total change-up and blast some Biggie. Song selection doesn’t need to even make any fucking sense. Maybe some Snoop. “Gin & Juice” would definitely get the people in the back pews to start nodding their heads. Perhaps just go for complete irreverence and request “Ten Crack Commandments.” I mean say what you will about the appropriateness at a funeral but that’s just a great fucking song. I was going to go with that until this morning it hit me. I thought back to my youth, which, as I’m sure you’ve remembered me saying, was the high point of my life to date. I thought back to the 90’s and all of the random one-hit wonders that were huge from bands that are now completely irrelevant. And that’s when I knew what song I had to choose. “Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba. No song could better define my life. Completely irrelevant. Holds little to no artistic or social value. Pretty stupid when you break it all down. Makes no goddamn sense, but can be fun to listen to once or twice. Just like me. I’m good in small doses, but if you ever had to have more than a fiv-minute conversation with me, justl ike if you ever tried to listen to a full Chumbawamba album, you’d probably lose your fucking mind. So in honor of that I’m making my first Wednesday morning wake-up song “Tubthumping”.

Breaking News: Tim Duncan Old, Still Boring As Fuck

Huffpost-

Apparently, the official reason for Duncan sitting was his age. After 15 seasons, Duncan was listed as a DND-Old. The “DND” stands for “Did Not Dress.” The “OLD” represents the 1,097 regular-season games that Duncan has logged.

It was the second day off during the condensed season for Duncan, who still managed to receive a technical foul from the bench.

Referee Josh Tiven handed Duncan a technical foul in the first half for unwelcome comments after Manu Ginobili fell hard on a drive to the basket but didn’t receive a call. This isn’t the first time that Duncan has been T’d up while on the sidelines. During a game against Dallas back in 2007, referee Joey Crawford — who was also working Sunday’s Spurs-Sixers game — ejected Duncan for laughing from the bench. Crawford was suspended for the altercation.

Does anybody actually like Tim Duncan? Like honestly really like Tim Duncan? I don’t mean people saying, “Tim Duncan is the best power forward ever. He’s so fundamentally sound.” I mean if when asked to name a favorite NBA player, has anyone in the history of ever replied with, “I fucking love Tim Duncan.” The answer has to be no, right? Growing up all I did was play basketball, and to my knowledge not a single one of my friends had a fucking Tim Duncan poster on their wall. Everyone had Kobe, Shaw, AI. I had Pierce and Antoine Walker all over mine. But not a fucking one had Tim Duncan.

Because nobody fucking likes Tim Duncan. Watching him is about as exciting as watching bread rise. I know people are like, “But he’s so fundamental!” No shit he’s fundamental. His nickname is The Big Fundamental. You wanna know who else plays really good fundamental basketball? The WNBA. Wanna know how many people care about the WNBA? Zero, because it fucking sucks.

People want excitement. They want appeal. They want something sexy. That’s why everyone loves Blake Griffin. It doesn’t matter if he shoots free throws with less accuracy than Hellen Keller at a shooting range, because he can jump 18 fucking feet high and dunk over Kias and shit. You wanna know another big man who people like? Wilt Chamberlain. You know why? Because he banged fucking 20,000 different women. Wilt Chamberlain was sex. I mean look at him, the dude just oozed sex appeal:

Tim Duncan, meanwhile, has the sexual appeal of Larry King. Women find him about as sexual as patio furniture. But if you ask about 80% of the female population that was living in Philadelphia between the years of 1959 and 1973 you want to know what they would say about Wilt Chamberlain? That dude fucking invented sex. I mean I’m sure he has a bunch of very close female friends who all would say he’s, “a great guy” but would gladly blow him off to bang Blake Griffin in a second. Why? Because Tim Duncan is about as exhilarating as a bottle of Ambien and smooth jazz. I mean look at him, the dude looks like the forty year old virgin:

Tim. It’s time to call it quits. Nobody likes you, and nobody ever has. Your tattoo is wack as fuck and your own team is telling you you’re too old. It’s time. Nobody is debating you aren’t one of the all-time greats. Nobody is saying you didn’t anchor a dynasty and earn all three of those rings. But please, get the fuck out of the league so I can watch Blake Griffin try and dunk over 8 defenders and a dump truck.

Chef makes joke about domestic violence, hilarity does not ensue

Clutch

Oh, dear. Another day, another example of people trying to make light of inappropriate issues.

On Friday, Belvedere Vodka came under fire for its ad joking about sexual assault, and today, The Root reported a story about Chops & Hops, a Georgia restaurant, that said it’s “black and bleu” sandwich was inspired by Chris Brown and Rihanna’s 2009 assault.

From the Chops & Hops Facebook page:

Well we were going to do @TimTebow today but decided to trade for a sure thing this week. Instead @chrisbrown, @rihanna and us teamed up for a award winning celebrity sandwich. Put your hands on this caribbean black and bleu sandwich. Caribbean spiced marinated sliced ribeye blackened then look out for the bleu cheese, sliced tomato, silver Lamborghini onions, and shredded romaine. Chris Brown won’t beat you up for eating this unless your name starts with a R and ends with A.

read more.

Look, I’m not gonna lie, this is pretty fucked up. And I understand the whole public disgust and feminist outcries and all that. Trust me, I do. I honestly think if a guy hits a chick he deserves to have his balls chopped off and forcibly shoved down his throat. And the fact that someone thought this was going to go over well is a bit ridiculous. The fact that multiple heads okayed this marketing strategy is even more ridiculous, and a bit indicative of how incredibly stupid everybody inside that restaurant must be. But that’s not what I’m mad about here. I’m not even that mad about the “Whitney Houston” sandwich being topped with powdered sugar thing. I know people are like, “She was a diva! She was a good lady! She died like two weeks ago!” I understand all of that, but at the same time, she was a fucking coke fiend, so I can’t really say I’m upset he made fun of her. Though I am a little confused as to why the hell you would put powdered sugar on a sandwich, I’m definitely not mad at him for that.

What I’m mad about is how much fucking bleu cheese is on that thing. Jesus christ, someone should tell that chauvinist asshole chef that he forgot to put meat on the sandwich. I’ve been speaking out on chefs doing shit like this for years butt it needs to stop now. Like if I go to Carnegie Deli and order the ‘Melo this is what I get:

What. The. Fuck. Is. That. That’s not so much a sandwich as it is a sick joke. I fucking can’t stand PETA and all of their crazy bullshit, but even I considered going vegetarian after seeing that. Like we get it. There’s alot of meat on it. You stacked approximately 12 pounds of meat two feet high and it’s ironic because Carmelo Anthony is a tall basketball player. Point noted assholes. But don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining because that in no way looks like a goddamn sandwich or anything close to it. It’s time to put an end to this. Sandwich’s should have a very simple composition:
50% meat.
15% lettuce and tomatoes and whatever the fuck else.
10% cheese.
5% condiments and sauces.
20% bread.

And that’s it. Nohing more and nothing less. None of this four thousand percent meat and 2 percent bread shit that Carnegie Deli pulls and none of this “bleu cheese with a dash of meat” bullshit that Richard Miley is attempting to pass across as a sandwich. All of these chefs going shitdick crazy on the composition of sandwiches need to be stopped. Because you can take your fancy chef awards and all the culinary praise you’ll ever receive Mr. Miley, and I’ll still take a sandwich that looks like this:

Seven days a week and twice on Sundays.

How big do you think Peter Crouch’s balls are?

Ignoring for a second the asinine music accompanying the video, can we all take one second to honestly ponder how big Peter Crouch’s balls are? Like in all honesty, do you think they make it harder for him to run? Because that was by far and away the most ridiculous goal I’ve ever seen. Granted, it was still soccer, and soccer is still kinda gay, but that shit was un-fucking-real. Seriously, in a sport dominated by players like Christiano Ronaldo, who looks like he gels his hair once before the game and twice at halftime, you got this goofy 6’7″ motherfucker just bringing the ruckus in England. No diving. No flopping. Shit, I think Peter Crouch may have just converted me to the beautiful game. Peter. Fucking. Crouch. Now somebody get me a vuvuzela.

PS. He looks way too much like the bro from accepted that blows shit up

This is Peter Crouch.

This is Jeremy Howard, the dude who blows shit up with his mind.

And this is Beaker the Muppet. Just Saying.

Double PS. Despite the fact that his celebrity look-a-like is a fucking muppet there’s no way in hell Peter Crouch wasn’t slamming some English smoke after this goal. English people lose their shit over this stuff.

Tuesday Morning Tunes

I haven’t posted for a while because I suck. So, I figured I’d start trying to unsuck and begin to expand my horizons past randomly posting drunken, half-remembered stories written with zero skill. I decided that from here on out, I’m going to try and post whatever song is playing in the back of my head while I should be paying attention in class. I’m going to do this at least once a week, but luckily, since I have the attention span of a five-year-old on a pixie stick bender and thus can’t pay attention in class for more than five seconds at a time, I’ll probably be posting songs more often.

Anyways, today’s track comes from the one and only Kid Cudi and is a couple years old. It’s from before he decided to “clean up” his life for his daughter, when he was still on the ganja, blowing more powder than Rick James in a whorehouse, and new videos of him being blackout drunk stumbling around random city streets seemed to pop up on worldstar every other day. Banging Amanda Bynes’ crazy ass and having her tweet about how much she likes black dick and shit. Now that he’s clean he’s definitely more mentally stable, but his music seems to have fallen off a bit. But back then, back when he was batshit insane and reaching levels of inebriation that would make Charlie Sheen jealous, it seemed like every song he dropped was a banger. Jesus christ I miss his crazy ass.

My Facial Hair Is Bullshit

So you wanna know what I realized today while sitting in my English class? I realized there were 25 guys in my class. You wanna know how many of those 25 didn’t have facial hair? One. Wanna guess who that one was? Me. God-fucking-damnit.

I swear ever since I’ve gotten to Australia I’ve noticed that it seems like every Australian has facial hair. I’m talking mustaches, beards, scruff, goatees. You name it, they have it. Jesus they look like they must have to shave like three times each day with how much facial hair these fuckers have. And meanwhile I’m sitting around looking like a fucking pedophile. That photo up there? That’s over a week of growth. Seriously. I’m twenty years old. This is horseshit. I was supposed to hit puberty like 8 years ago. What. The. Fuck. This is ludicrous. My facial hair growth ranges from Charlie Villanueva to middle-aged man wearing a trench coat in the children’s section of the public library. It’s ridiculous, most Mexican children in elementary school have more facial hair than me. I’m surrounded by Australians with mustaches and beards that probably have every girl falling head over heels for them, meanwhile the only thing I’m attracting is attention from familywatchdog.com. Seriously. They got facial flow for days, and I’m catching flack from people for not registering under Meghan’s Laws.

So I’ll try this again.

God, are you there? It’s me, Robert. I can’t wait until 21 God. That’s when I’m supposed to be a man. And to be a man, I need to have facial hair God. Do you think my friends will accept me without any? It’s not so much I give a shit about my friends God, I’m just not trying to look like a goddamn 12-year-old into early adulthood.

Jason Russel Looks Like He Had A Fun Weekend

So it turns out that whole KONY thing was complete bullshit. And by complete bullshit I mean the director was out of his fucking mind. Dude got arrested for running around naked in the street and jerking it in public. Talking about demons and shit, slapping the cement like he was fucking Kevin Garnett at half court. And I don’t think I could’ve possibly scripted a better ending to this whole social activism Kony bullshit. Maybe now people will stop pretending:

A) They know where the fuck Uganda is.
B) They know who the fuck Joseph Kony is.
C) They have a social conscience of their own and don’t just follow what everyone else does.

Look I’m not saying I agree with Joseph Kony. Dude’s a pretty big asshole. Matter of fact, I signed the Invisible Children petition like three years ago when I came on campus because I had a professor who wanted me to research military strife in Africa. What I am saying, is that I’m tired of people mindlessly posting “KONY 12!!!” statuses and stupid shit like that. You want to accomplish something? Try getting the shit off of facebook, and learn about the underlying reasons of why Kony has any amount of power in the first place.

But honestly I was hoping for a little more crazy out of this video. Everyone talking about how nuts he went, and I was expecting some biblical shit. I wanted jumping on cars, running through traffic with his dick in his hand screaming. But I guess beggars can’t be choosers. So I’ll settle for him slapping the pavement like the guy who takes pick-up ball too seriously at the local YMCA. Which, by the way, is the biggest jackass move in the history off jackass moves. It doesn’t pump anyone up, it just makes everyone think you’re a complete retard.

PS. That walk in the beginning is the walk of someone who’s out of their mind.

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