Max-stravaganza

This video doesn't just speak to me, it speaks for me. It also serves as a good history lesson. I had no idea that Earl was behind the fall of the Berlin Wall. I always thought that was Hasselhoff. Also, if anyone has any idea who Dan Coscino is, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll be greatly indebited if anyone knows who this Darryl Hall falsetto voice belongs to. Either way, Earl starts up again tonight and you should watch it. If you don't? Do I really need to say "Bad karma?" That's all you need to know. Do good things, good things happen. Do bad things, and you get the pain. Also, I'll be taking this weekend off from ye olde bloge (gotta embrace the unnecessary vowel). Why? Well, I'm going off on another one of my oh-so-epic weekend trips. The subject of which will remain a secret. But I'll be crossing off at least one thing from my list. So prepare yourselves for the next entry: The One Where Max Lives Like He Was Dying. -M

The Phil Spector (no relation to Regina) trial reached a verdict today...and it looks like we've got a mistrial ! But on the bright side, we've also got a hung jury. Hit it! I've come a little bit set in my ways. After bungy jumping and all the assorted insanity you'd expect from someone with a death wish, life just seems a little bit dull. So, I've decided to only speak in the third person from now on. All of my heroes in life do it. Rickey Henderson. Bob Dole. God. Denny Crane. The Rock. Julius Caesar. Steve Holt . Barry Gibb. Duffman. Disco Stu. Homie the Clown. The Jimmy . And they've turned out okay. These are great men and being in their company would be a big step up for me. I picture myself standing on a balcony, standing before the Roman assembly, proclaiming "MAX WILL SAVE YOU FROM YOUR PLIGHT!" as I triumphantly exit as the huddled masses chant my name. It will also further my existential crisis about whether or not I see my

In case you haven't seen the footage, it's right here . But Milton Bradley has finally out Milton Bradley-ed himself. When I heard the news that an idiot outfielder got booted from another game, I didn't even have to ask "GUESS WHO?" Of course, it was Milton Bradley. After singling to center, Bradley threw his bat (intentionally?) towards the home plate umpire. The first base blue called him on this, and then MB went defcon 5 and manned his BATTLESHIP. And then his right leg snapped backwards like a MOUSE TRAP. Bradley was going to be a big part of San Diego's effort to CONNECT FOUR playoff wins. Perhaps he needed a better STRATEGO than to just charge at the first base blue, since he ended up crawling on the ground like was playing TWISTER. All the while, it looks like the Padres' playoff hopes are toppling over. JENGA. I'm going to stop saying that something's retarded (I'm too liberal with that word anyway). I'm just going to say

The view out of my dorm room isn't that spectacular. Actually, it looks out at another building. So when I wake up in the morning, I have no clue what the weather's going to be like. I had resolved that today would be the maiden voyage of my new, trendy Ray Bans. What's the point in spending the money if no one sees them on you? And when you look as good as I do in them... Of course you've got to flaunt them. As the poet said: You know what the difference is between you and me? I make this look good . So I walked out into Auckland looking studly as ever. It's September, so I just assumed that there'd be sun outside. But we all know what happens when you assume: You look like a total asshole. So I walk outside to a slight drizzle. No problem. I just put up my hood (and looked a little bit like the unabomber ). But then it started to pour. I took out my umbrella (ella...ella...eh), but I refused to take off my polarized lenses. I had come too far to l

This entry was originally planned to be a cluelessly conservative diatribe about how Barry Manilow should pull himself over to the shoulder of the pretentiousness turnpike and just shut his Fraggle Rock mouth the hell up about Elisabeth Hasselbeck. Now, I used to be a Fanilow, but then he refused to appear on the View, since Elisabeth is, quote: "dangerous and offensive." I had written a call to boycott Mr. Copacabana and put him on the same blacklist as Natalie Maines and Barbra Streisand... And then I read the comments at Columbia University this morning , and realized that Ahmadinejad has finally hit ludicrous speed on way towards WWIII. I don't care what you think about the Bush administration. I'm not going to make any political statement about this madman. I just want you to read the following excerpts and ask yourself how safe you feel with Ahmadinejad, a man with the comptenency of Mel Gibson on a bender, having access to enriched Uranium. This is a man

I've been reading up on the Middle east recently. It all started when I watched "Syriana" and was thoroughly confused. Although, watching George Clooney get tortured gave me the same sort of orgasmic bliss that I get from watching Kirk Gibson hobble around second base. Before I started studying, Ayatollah Khomeini was just that guy on the t-shirt that Homer refused to sell at his yard sale. So I have resolved to take as many Gov't classes when I get back to CMC. I'm prepared to ditch my ignorance about that giant bed of sand that happens to be floating on a sea of oil. But in my honest opinion, the greatest victim in the ongoing war between Islam and freedom has to be Yusef Islam, the artist formerly known to the world as Cat Stevens. In 1978, Cat Stevens converted to Islam and left the pop scene to focus on education and philthropy. In 1989, he called for Salman Rushdie's head on a platter, insisting He must be killed. The Koran makes it clear - if som

Enough was enough. For the past two and a half months, I haven't been able to download music or movies off the interweb. I've been stuck with the same playlists for the past two months. Even on shuffle, you get tired of the same songs over and over again. I had previously taken pride in being off the grid and staying away from the system. But those days are over. I have become another cog in that amoral, soul sucking machine that feeds off the lifeforce of a hairless Keanu Reeves. I'm speaking of course, about Apple. Yes, I finally signed up for the iTunes Music Store. So all of you with your Che Guevarra t-shirts , you can stop reading right now. At the Railway Campus, we're not allowed to use any file sharing programs such as LimeWire or Bittorrent. When I heard about this, the first thought that ran through my head was "Is this a Communist country? I'm sorry, I thought this was America!" Then upon realizing that my passport had just been stam

I think that Willie Nelson put it best when he asked "Living on the road, my friend, who's gonna keep you free and clean?" Driving around in a campervan for extended periods of time, you learn new ways to occupy yourself. We played a lot of cards, except that when the car is moving, it's hard to keep the table in place. I wrote a good deal, except that when the car is moving, it's hard to keep the table in place. I read a good deal, except that when the car is moving, it's hard to keep yourself from upchucking. But one day, we parked in Golden Bay and I just had time to sit with my thoughts and a piece of paper. What ended up in my binder was a list of things to do before I turn 30. Things to do before you die is a) too morbid and b) too easy. It gives you 70 some odd years to cross everything off. This can make for some more grandiose items to check off, but 70 years is far too long if you want to go to Joshua Tree and rock climb. I got the idea from

I've been out of Nutella for the past day and I'm going through withdrawl. Right now I'm pretty sure that my refrigerator is going to eat me. There are very few things in this world that make me cry. Actually, the list is pretty short. Pepper Spray. When Arrested Development got cancelled. And, of course, Brian's Song (But in the third case, my tears essentially act a lubricant). But bungy jumping nearly broke onto the list at #4. Over spring break, we hit up Queenstown, the extreme sports capital of the world (or so it said on its "Welcome to" sign). No visit to Q-Town is complete without facing one of your fears. For our group, that meant bungy jumping off of the Nevis highwire, the tallest jump in the world (134 meters). We had to take a gondola out to the platform. Once firmly there, I looked looked up at the mechanism. It was an intricate system of bungy cords and machinery, yet it still seemed somewhat flimsy to support people jumping off s

Before I get to my next rant, I need to mention how life got a little bit more intersting today. And I'm not talking about how OJ is facing seven felonies without bail. No, I bring news from the CafeAbroad war front. And it's not good. I thought that a ceasefire had been declared. But it looks as though "Dan" has declared a fatwa on my head and the Ayatollah has sent his army of suicide bombing high school literary gazette rejects after me. Don't ask me why, but I decided to check in on CafeAbroad.com. Maybe I was looking for a good laugh, or maybe I was in search of schadenfreude. Whatever the cause, I logged onto the main page...AND SAW MY OWN DAMN FACE STARING BACK. I now give you permission to visit the website. CafeAbroad.suck Yep. I got published and I didn't even know it. But before you give me a victory five , read the article. Do you recognize it? Because I sure don't. I published it way back in August right here on the ' Stravaga

I've stayed moderately clear of addiction through my first 20 years. Well, that's not entirely true. There's Halo 2, Facebook and Entourage. And that one time I fell under the spell of opium when I was travelling the Yangtzee in search of a Mongolian horsehair vest. I had got to the market after sundown, all of the clothing traders had gone, but a different sort of trader still lurked about. "Just a taste," he said. That was all it took. But apart from that, I'm clean. And then I came to New Zealand and got corrupted by a force so powerful that the Pope would sell his soul for it. I'm talking of course, about Nutella. Manufactured by Ferrero, Nutella (pronounced new-tell-a) is a Hazelnut spread that goes great on toast...as well as everything else in the world since the second ingredient is Cocoa Powder. It's essentially chocolate frosting masquerading as peanut butter. And I can't stop eating it. I make Nutella and jelly sandwiches. Nut

As opposed to ending with, I'm going to start this entry with my Vernon Davis fun fact. Vernon Davis has such an imposing presence that he can only score 2 fantasy points in two weeks and still lead his team to back to back victories. That's right everybody. The Niners are 2-0. People said that it would be a cold day in hell before this would happen. Well, it looks like serial killers and unwed mothers are enjoying some fun winter weather down there. Even more impressive is how horrible Alex Smith and crew have looked...YET THEY STILL WIN. The 49ers are the NFL's version of that kid in high school who studied at the last minute and pulled off B's without ever working that hard. And what would that kid always say? "Imagine if I actually put a little effort into my work. I'd be getting straight A's!" Well, that's the strategy that Mike Nolan is adopting this season: Get by doing the least possible amount of work. But as all procrastinators k

So it's been brought to my attention that maybe "Dan" and his use of the word ' lede ' wasn't as incorrect as this blogger would lead you all to believe. Well, I'd apologize if I thought I had anything to apologize for. Who the hell uses the word "lede" when "lead" is so much more well known? It's like saying "masticate" when you mean "chew." The only difference is that masticate sounds like a very funny word for playing with yourself, while "lede" only serves to sound pretentious and confuse well-read CMC literature majors. Allright. Back to the trip. New Zealand is one of those backwards, Metric system countries that drives on the left. I really have no idea what the benefit is to this. The majority of people in the world are right handed, so it would only make sense that the gear shift would be on the driver's right. But New Zealand doesn't want to make life easy so we drive on the le

Sorry for not updating with greater frequency. But I have an excuse. Recently, I've come down with a bad case of laziness. Yes. Laziness. If alcoholism can be considered a disease, so can laziness. I'm going to petition the AMA to accept my condition as a medical disease, similar to Gymnophobia . I know that there are at least dozens of us with this problem. DOZENS!!! So I've decided to take a slight hiatus from writing about the trip of my lifetime to talk about an issue that's very important to me. Recently, one Orenthal James Simpson has come under scrutiny for allegedly breaking into a room at the Palace Station Casino and robbing it. Did he do it? I'm reserving judgement. Because even though ALL the evidence might show that OJ grabbed the loot and ran out of the hotel like he was bolting through an airport, this could very well be another attempt by The Man to frame an innocent black man. Not gonna lie, I was rooting against OJ during the Trial of

At the end of my excursion, I felt bruised and battered. I couldn't tell what I felt. I was unrecognizable to myself. So I suppose that the South Island of New Zealand is somewhat similar to the streets of Philadelphia. I like to think that I've changed a good deal over the course of two and a half weeks. And I don't just mean spiritually. Since landing in Christchurch, I opted into a no-shave clause for the entire trip. You know, my version of a playoff beard . So the normally clean shaven MGD ended up looking like this: Which oddly enough reminds me of: Not sure if I'm going to keep the beard yet. It makes me feel a bit like Hemingway. And all of the greatest political leaders have them . But in the past, I've been told that I look absolutely ridiculous with facial hair. And my style guru, one Ernesto Delgado, insists that I should shave every day. Then again, all of my heroes in life have beards. My father. Jesus. Gimli . Mark McGwire . Mr. Eko