Independence Day Craziness

Who ever thought the Fourth of July, let alone a Wednesday, Fourth of July could be so crazy?

Growing up, all Independence Day meant, was a day off from school and some fireworks at night.

Apparently San Diegans have a different idea.

This was actually the second Independence Day I've spent in San Diego, and let me tell you, it's freakin crazy! I think the official count of people at the beaches of San Diego this year was 955,000.

NINE HUNDRED AND FIFTY FREAKING FIVE THOUSAND!

Lets put this in perspective. That's nearly twice the population of the state of Wyoming. In fact, there are seven states and a District of Columbia whose population is smaller!

Let's add a further level of perspective. The 3 mile stretch of beach and bay from Pacific Beach down to Mission Beach, contained 750,000 people. What does this mean? Well it means the biggest party you've ever been to is at the beach ALL day! Good luck finding parking if you come anytime after 12:00. In all likelihood you'll have to park at least a mile from where you want to go. That is, unless you're ME.

In all fairness, this special connection was through my friend, but it so happens that his "Grammy" has a vacation home right in the midst of all the craziness, AND it just so happened that that home contained a vacant parking spot just for us!

Since we're putting things in a lot of perspective today, lets do it again. To understand how good this parking spot was, just know that people were selling parking spots that were FURTHER from the beach for $100. That's right...ONE HUNDRED BUCKAROOS!

To add to the greatness, Grammy even gave us juice and cheese crackers before we dove into the foray! In addition to the fun we had, some pretty great things also happened to unfold.

1. I established a reputation as a legitimate "Frisbee-er." Yes, I spent a lot of time perfecting my throws and catches of the aforementioned disk, and I think it's safe to say, I have Frisbee skills. I actually managed not to directly hit anyone despite the mass of people, and I made a couple of face saving catches as well!

2. We met an awesome chick named Heather who lives in Arizona. We discovered her in Mission Bay and she hung out with us all day (and on Saturday night). She managed to be the only girl to live up to the awesomeness standards of Jeff, B-Rent, and I. In fact, we have already scheduled a trip to Arizona in September for some craziness and adventure (and you "Daily Remedy" regulars know about my attraction to adventure).

How did I know she was cool? Well, at one point during the day, in response to some previous conversation, she looked at me and said "Why don't you come over." I sensed seduction in her eyes (either that or it was sun which was directly in her face, but I still say it was seduction). I reluctantly followed her home. The conversation went something like this...

Heather: "You're gonna get something real good"
Me: "Oh really? How good are you?"
Heather: "Downright orgasmic."
Me: "Wow"
Heather: "Why don't you sit down and get comfortable"
Me: (nervously) "Ummm, ok"

With that, she went behind a wall in the kitchen, and I heard a lot of ruckus. Something good was about to happen: I could feel it.

Heather (from the kitchen): "How do you want it?"
Me: "However you do it best."

With that, she appeared from around the corner, just the way I like...

Holding a giant Turkey Sandwich with the works!!! It was even on a hogie roll! OK, so I may have exaggerated a bit of the conversation in a slightly (and possibly greatly) risque manner, but she still made me a damn good Turkey Sandwich! I was starving!

3. Heather happened to be staying with her parents and friends in some crazy vacation home rental on the bay, which was a PERFECT place to see the fireworks.

4. I wouldn't file this under great, but we met some other girls who happen to be going to Las Vegas the exact same weekend as us. Why is this not great? Well, without going into all the details, lets just say that as Jeff was driving "Doof" home, she made him pull over so she could urinate (apparently she had to go) in the road...and no they weren't in Tijuana.

Anyways, I would say that Independence Day was once again a success! Beach, Beer, Women, Turkey Sandwiches, Friends and Frisbee...what more could a man ever want?

Airport Craziness

I think everyone has a love-hate relationship with airports. At least I know I do. Sure they're sort of like a bus stop for airplanes, and they keep you nice and warm while you wait for your plane to arrive. Hell, they even valet all of your luggage and make sure none of your fellow passengers are carrying any weapons.

But those of you that know me, and those of you who don't but read my blog, know that I can rant about almost anything. Yes, the Airport is no exception, and from the many trips I've embarked upon over the years, I've noticed some downright nonsensical things.

It all starts with the lines. When you go to an airport, there is a minimum of three lines you have to wait through. One for check in, one for security, and one for boarding. On my last international adventure, I had to wait in FIVE lines in Chennai International Airport. There was an additional line for checked baggage screening and a second security line at the gate.

Ok, I understand and respect the need for security, but common...FIVE lines to wait through is a little excessive.

Then you get to your gate where you wait around for the boarding call. It's always interesting to observe what people do to pass the time. I'm always scared to sleep for fear of missing my plane. I also don't like to listen to music yet because I'm afraid I'll miss some important announcement like a gate change or something.

Then, if you decided to go peruse a store, you've got to deal with toting your luggage around behind you. I usually just bring a backpack with me, so this isn't much of a problem, but a lot of people have those mini-suitcases with the rollers that aren't exactly the most nimble little things when navigating through isles.

What if you get hungry? Bad news. Crossing security in an airport is like entering Earth - year 2040, where after 33 years of inflation running rampant, everything costs triple what it should.

Sandwich? 8 bucks.
Bottle of Water? 3 bucks
Cinnabun? 5 bucks

I usually stroll into the magazine store and treat it like a library, reading stuff until its almost boarding time.

A lot of airports these days have more than just the food and magazine places. Many, especially international airports, are like mini malls! Honestly, I don't know how these places stay in business because who really buys regular stuff at an airport?

In Malaysia, there were designer stores all over the place! I'm perplexed as to how they manage to sell anything. "Ah Shucks! Maybe I'll just pick up this Gucci shirt before I get on the plane!" I'm not even considering the fact that this is Gucci - year 2040 where the shirt is God-knows-how-much-more.

The best stores are those ones that carry all of the gizmo's you see in "Sky mall" Magazine, mostly because everything is plugged in! If you're lucky, one of those crazy electronic message chairs (which give mediocre messages but its better than nothing) will be vacant and you can just chill in the store until they kick you out.

And speaking of messages, its always fun to chat with people in other airports, and find out what they do and where they're going. The coolest person I ever met in airport was in Las Vegas when I was on the way to Alaska. I was in line at a ridiculously overpriced Starbucks when this phenomenally cute girl got in line behind me. (of course this had nothing to do with why I starting talking to her :)

We started chatting and she revealed to me the she is from Atlanta. Now however she lives in Hawaii and is a professional masseuse.

Postulate number 505 in "Arun's Guide to Lifetime Awesomeness": Cute Girl + Hawaii + Masseuse = Happy Arun.

As much as I wanted to change my ticket right then and there to go to Hawaii instead of frigid Alaska, I knew I couldn't. Instead I began scheming of ways to temporarily take advantage of the abilities of my new friend. The conversation went like this:

Me: "How do you manage to massage people all day? Don't your hands get tired?"
Cute Girl: "No, you build special muscles when you do it all the time. You wouldn't be able to do it all day."
Me: (incredulously) What!?! Are you saying I'm weak!?! (now sarcastically) You know, I DO work out!"
Cute Girl: (Laughing at my shocked facial expression more than my joke) "No! I didn't mean that!" (now sarcastically) "You are really strong. (proceeds to playfully squeeze my arm feeling my muscle)

At this, I sensed an opportunity, and I charged full speed ahead!

Me: "OOH! You know my arm is a little sore there!"
Her: (now massaging my arm) "How's that?"
Me: "That's good my but (now with a rye smile on my face) my back is even worse!"
Her: "Well why don't we go sit down."

BINGO! Free half hour massage! She also said if I ever go to Hawaii, I could go and get one from her for FREE! Too bad I don't remember the island she lives on, nor her name. All I remember is that she works at the Sheraton Hotel.

Now, on the other side of the spectrum, let me share with you my worst airport experience courtesy of India Airlines.

I arrived at the airport in New Delhi around 8am for a 10am flight down to Chennai. Flight gets delayed to 11am. No big deal delays happen all the time

Flight gets delayed again to 12pm. This kind of sucks!

12pm rolls around I hear this lovely announcement: "Good afternoon! Flight XXX to Chennai, India is now cancelled. Have a good day!"

Have a good day??? Are you kidding me! I'll show you "have a good day!"

It turns out the grounds crews for Indian airlines went on strike. What ensued thereafter was total chaos. There is no structure in the Indian airports! In America, there's a nice roped off line to the ticket counter that you wait in. In India, there are multiple "lines" but everyone tries to merge in and cut in front of you. Eventually this turns into just a giant mob of people at the ticket counter.

We basically had sneak and muscle our way up to the front to speak with the clerk. To save you the frustration eliciting details, let me just say, I was stuck at the airport from 8 in the morning until 9:30 at night when we finally took off.

When it finally comes time to board, and this is true in most any airport, its funny to observe how everyone is in such a rush to get on the plane. As soon as they announce boarding, everyone stands up and starts crowding the front of the line.

I don't know what the rush to be the first on the airplane is. I personally would rather sit in that thing as little as possible.

Somehow, people still don't know that they board first class first, then people travelling with small children, then everyone else by section.

Then there are those people who try to weasel in early by tyring to use their 10 year old kid as a "small child." Please.

Others try to sneak in even if the current section boarding is not theirs. I always enjoy it when the Gate Agent doesn't let them on and makes them embarrassingly step aside until their section is called.

And thus starts the second half of your adventure...The Airplane Journey!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Vacations are always nice. Relaxation, fun in the sun, rest, the whole nine yards. Well my trip is going to be a little different.

Tomorrow I embark on a little international jaunt over to India!

Part of me is excited. For two weeks I'll be immersed in a totally different culture, visit lots of relatives, eats tons of amazing food, savour some of the best fruit in the world, visit the Taj Mahal, and did I mention eat amazing food?

The other part of me knows what comes along with the territory. Insane heat and humidity, mosquitoes and insects that enjoy snacking on me, totally chaotic traffic, uncomfortable bedding, hoards of people, beggars everywhere, smog filled air in certain areas, and two days of travelling to get there.

TWO DAYS!

How is it two days? Well first consider, India is 12 and a half hours ahead of California time (Don't ask me where the half comes from. I always thought time zones were by whole hours?) The flight from LA to Malaysia is over 19 hours (19 FREAKING HOURS!). Suffice to say, I should be able to get quite a bit of reading done.

I last visited India about five years ago, and it was half enjoyable. Why only half? I was seriously eaten alive by the mosquitoes! I had no idea how ferocious they were. The town I was staying in apparently has some back-waters which are a breeding ground for mosquitoes. They attack while you sleep and will get to any area of exposed skin! It got so bad that I wore clothing all over while sleeping even though it was 90+ degrees!

Eventually, we bought an Air Conditioner and Mosquito net which more or less remedied the problem of getting too many more bites, but the existing bites I had itched like a mother. To give an idea of how many bites I had, consider that on my right arm and hand alone, I had over 40 separate mosquito bites!

This is not going to happen again! I'm stalking up on mosquito nets and bug spray this time!

On the way there, I'm spending a day in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I've spent a day there before, and there's quite a bit to see. I'm going to try and arrange a driver to chauffeur me around for a day.

Knowing me as well as I do, there's bound to be some good adventures on this trip. I'm planning on stopping into some internet cafe's so I should be able to post some updates while I'm gone.

Stay tuned!

Arun Versus The Bee

I normally don't like writing posts on small daily activities because I don't want this blog to be like a daily journal or diary, most of which I find incredibly uninteresting. The purpose of this website is to be entertaining while allowing me to share my rants, commentaries, advice, and adventures.

Keeping that in mind, I had no intention of sharing the following story, but after telling this account to a couple of people who found it humorous, I thought I'd go ahead and share. To cover everything, I'll give you a time by time account, and for dramatic effect, I'll tell the story in the third person.

Tuesday

7:30 - Arun comes into office. All is quiet.

7:35 - Arun brews a delicious cup of decaf coffee and sits down at desk ready to work, with earphones streaming The Adam Carolla Show.

7:40 - Arun hears a buzzing and wonders if it's the music in his headphones. Removing headphones he continues to hear an incredibly noisy buzzing. Arun looks up and locates the source. A Bee!

7:43 - Arun tries to work and ignore the bee, but the bee keeps going into the light housing and its wings are beating against the metal causing an incredibly noisy reverberation.

7:45 - Arun twiddles thumbs waiting for the damn bee to hurry up and leave his office. The stupid bee however is content to buzz around the ceiling lights and annoy Arun incessantly.

7:52 - Fed up, Arun stands up and rolls a piece of paper up planning to possibly swat Mr Bee. This turns out to be a bad idea because:
A) The florescent lights have this plastic grid protecting them so its hard to get a clean swipe at the bee.
B) Arun fears missing at a swat attempt and possibly pissing off Mr. Bee, and
C) If Arun goes for an extra aggressive swat with something bigger and heavier, there's a damn good chance that the florescent light will explode in his face. Arun's face is too handsome to risk any remote chance of harm.

As an aside, this Mr. Bee was one smart cookie. It's as if he knew he was taunting me. He would start up his buzzing every few minutes. Just when I thought he was done, he'd start up again. Then he'd poke his little body out, and I'd jump up thinking I could get him, but as soon as I got close, he'd retreat behind the lights.

8:55 - Arun attempts and fails to ignore Mr. Bee and be productive, but Mr. Bee is persistent in his annoyance.

9:10 - Fed up, Arun says allowed, "Fine! You wanna play Bee?!? This is war!"

9:15 - Arun goes around office rounding up a small stash of rubber bands.

9:25 - Arun returns to office with a stash of ammunition and practices aiming and firing at a makeshift bulls eye drawn on his white board.

9:35 - Arun crouches behind office door waiting for Mr. Bee to come out and play. Mr. Bee however seems to know what I'm up to and remains in hiding, still buzzing against the metal.

9:45 - Strategizing, Arun sits at desk with weapons at easy access. To his left are the rubber bands, ready to fire, as well as a notepad for swatting, and a heavy book to finish Mr. Bee off.

10:45 - Arun returns from meeting and notices Mr. Bee is resting on the plastic grid in the lights. Apparently he thought he could rest while I was gone, and now he has his back to me so he has no idea I'm here! This is my chance!

10:46 - Arun grabs handful of bands and commences firing!!!

10:47 - The first two shots are misses. Mr. Bee starts flying frantically in the lights. Arun pulls back for the third shot knowing his window of opportunity is shrinking. Mr Bee will soon go into hiding, and this is his best chance.

10:48 - Arun releases third shot. HIT!!!! Mr. Bee falls to the ground, injured.

At that very moment, I knew it would soon be over. The battle of Man vs. Bee would soon be over.

10:49 - Arun grabs note pad and swats downed Bee. He's still moving! Arun lunges for giant book and throws it down with tremendous force causing a huge sound. It's over.

10:50 - Office neighbors walk over to see what all of the commotion is about. An exhausted Arun explains the epic war that was just fought, and that he was able to successfully defeat the intruders.

10:55 - All is quiet in Arun's Office, and he takes a quick nap to prepare for lunchtime basketball.

What a morning.

The Adam Carolla Show

Every morning between the hours of 6am (The precise time on which my alarm goes off) and 10am (by which point I am solidly into my second cup of coffee and my first snack at work)I listen to a radio show broadcast here on the west coast called, "The Adam Carolla Show."

As you may have guessed, the star of the show is Adam Carolla. To refresh your memory, Adam has starred on such hits as MTV's "Loveline," and "Crankyankers," as well as "The Man Show." His cohosts are Danny Bonaduce (Partridge Family and Breaking Bonaduce) and Teresa Strasser (HGTV's "While you were out," award winning journalist, and hottie in general.)

Recently, I got the chance to watch the crew in action during a live broadcast.

I first started listening to this show when I moved to San Diego. It's intention was actually to be a replacement for the "Howard Stern Show" (which and whom I can't stand). At first, when I woke up in the morning hearing this Adam Carolla guy complain about everything under the sun from Left-turn arrows at traffic lights, to "Blowhards" like Rosie O'Donnell and Donald Trump, I was thoroughly annoyed.

Where's my morning music? How about some tunes to start the day? For some reason though, I couldn't bring myself to change the station. Slowly this man of infinite complaints and rants was growing on me!

In fact, his excessive ranting may have even influenced some of my own previous rants that I've posted!

Now that I've listened to the show for quite a few months, I definitely wanted to take the opportunity to check it out since they were here at the popular beach bar "The Wave House" last night for today's show.

I don't need to bore you with the details a radio show that you may or may not have heard, but know this. I am going to somehow, get on that radio show! Last night, I was watching these guys go about entertaining not only a live audience, but everybody else out there in radio land, and I decided I would be a great addition to their team!

I know what you're thinking. "Arun, when are you going to stop these hair-brained schemes and adventures of yours and just give it a rest!"

Never. I like to make life as interesting as possible, and if getting on the Adam Carolla Show is part of the plan, then so be it!

My plan? Well, I don't really have a plan yet per say, but they do have quite a cast of unusual guests that appear on the show, and I'm thinking that "Bapo Gupta: Beffudled Indian" would be both popular and hilarious. Stay tuned on this developing adventure!

Arun Hangs Out With/Cons the Real World/Road Rules Cast

This has got to be the longest, most descriptive title I've ever used. At first, I was going to think up one of my normally clever titles, but this seemed appropriate and intriguing enough to make people want to read.

I have to be honest. There is rarely a dull or boring moment in my life. If I see one approaching, I generally find either something productive to do, or some trouble to get into. Hey, they (and by 'they,' I mean 'me') don't call me "Adventurous Arun" for nothing!

So last Saturday, Bruno, Frederico, and I decided to head over to the Yardhouse to hang out and have a couple beers. We hang out upstairs for awhile and decide to go check out this lounge area downstairs. Unfortunately we have to wait in line for about 10 minutes to get in.

As I'm standing in line, I'm joking around with Frederico, doing my fake Australian accent and he is hysterical with laughter. He tells me I HAVE to do the accent to the first person I talk to once we get in the lounge. No problem. I have a few accents in my repertoire that I can do pretty well, and one is the Aussie.

Bruno then turns to me and says that he saw some camera's around and that he thinks the current Real World/Road Rules cast is at the bar! At first I didn't believe him, but then I saw Susie from Road Rules walk out holding some guys hand! Now I'm not huge into Road Rules or Real World, but I will admit I've seen quite a few episodes over the years, so I am familiar with some of cast members. Apparently the current cast is made up of veteran Real World and Road Rules cast members.

So I get into the lounge, and the first thing I notice is the completely unnatural seen caused by the Road Rules cast and crew. They're at some booth drinking, but they're surrounded by cameras, extra lights, and a boom-mic on a poll. There is no way anyone can act "natural" under these conditions. Bruno tries to get over to the table but there are actually security guards on either side, not letting anyone "unauthorized" in.

Meanwhile I, staying true to my word, go up to this cute girl and start talking to her in my full-on Australian accent. She is completely charmed. In fact, I wasn't really acting any different than normal other than doing the accent, but then I had to create an elaborate story to explain my supposed background growing up in Australia and how I came to San Diego etc.

This girl totally loved me. In the process of being from Australia, I also pretend to have no idea of what the Road Rules or the Real World are because they're "not that popular on Aussie Tele!" An entertaining conversation ensued:

Me: "Me Mate Bruno told me those blokes are on the Tele"
Her: "Yea, they're practically famous here in the U.S.!"
Me: "I di'int recognize them, but it has gotta be great to be famous in this country!"
Her: "Arun, you are SO HOT (I told you she loved me) and you could totally be on the show!"
Me: "That'd but absolutely amazing!"

At this point, the Road Rulers leave the booth to go drink and dance.

Her: "You HAVE to meet them!"

I was actually beginning to like this girl. She was super enthusiastic and was all about getting me to meet all the Real World/Road Rulers. So, no joke, we literally go up to each one and she introduces me as follows:

Her: "This is my friend Arun from Australia and he wants to be famous! Isn't he HOT! (did I mention she loved me?) He could totally be on the show, couldn't he!?!

I would then politely interject and tell them that I didn't really know who they were, but that I think its cool that they're so entertaining to Americans. Interestingly, the think the cast members liked me so much because I (supposedly) didn't know who they were and was completely oblivious to their "fame."

So we ended up kind of hanging out in the lounge for a little while and I even danced with (and got a peck on the cheek from) Kina! (She was one of the only ones that I recognized). In fact, she was thoroughly fascinated by my "Australian background," and I think slightly enamored by my charming yet oblivious nature.

We ended up taking pictures with all of them with, though I don't have any because it was with other people's camera's. Don't be shocked if you see a picture of the Road Rulers with good ol' me giving a rye smile somewhere in the middle, floating around on myspace.

The three cast members I actually hung out with were Derek, David, and Kina. I was actually surprised by how nice all of them really were. Turns out they're in the current season of Road Rules 2007: Viewers' Revenge.

So did I ever come clean??? No freaking way. I was in too deep, and coming clean would have made me look like some kind of a no-good, lowdown, con (even though technically I was a con). Truthfully, I wasn't planning on being Australian with all the Road Rulers, but since this girl I met was introducing me to everyone, I couldn't break character, so I just had to roll with it!

I actually wanted to get the girls phone number, but didn't for three reasons.

1. There was no way I was going to come clean. It was too late for damage control!
2. I didn't want to lead this charade any longer. I can't imagine having to do this damn accent for a whole date!
3. She definitely had potential to be a clinger.

FYI, this is actually the first time I've ever totally conned someone into thinking something about me that I'm not. I occasionally fake the Indian accent, but I always come clean once everyone's had a sufficient laugh. I actually felt bad doing it to the girl for so long, but in retrospect, I do find it quite awesome that everyone believed me! I've decided not to do it any more, unless I'm talking to someone I have very little interest in, in which case "Australian Arun" may make another appearance.

It's funny how randomly this all unfolded, but what fun is life without a little bit of randomness!? I'll going to try actually watch this Wednesday's episode of Road Rules. I don't think I made it on camera, but there's a chance my Australian counterpart did!

Dancing Machine

I love everything about music and one of my favorite offshoots, is the art of dance. Yes friends...I have been known to bust a move or two. Now I'm no Mr. Wiggles or Riverdancer, but growing up, I loved dancing and was a big time student of Michael Jackson (yea yea, hold the jokes).

Over the years, I've made a bit of a specatacle of myself, all in the name of Dance Fever! Sure I go out and do a couple of moves here and there, and occassionally participate in a "battle" if I'm in the mood, but those have been only sideshows compared to other occasions where I've popularized (and only slightly embarrassed) myself in front of the masses!

If we look at this chronologically, I suppose the first improptu show happened when I was about 11 or 12. I had this habit of always practicing my dance moves in secret whenever I found a suitable floor surface. I found one of the best floors to slide around on was at Costco! So when I thought no one was looking, I'd do a couple of spins and maybe work on my moonwalk.

Well at the time, I was taking this french class at the University, and apparently my French teacher was at Costco the same time that I was on one particular dance-happy occassion. I soon found out that I had had an unknowing audience.

The next day in the middle of class she recalls my little performace in her thick frech accent:

Her: "Hey I just remembered. I saw you at Costco yesterday!"
Me: "Oh yea?"
Her: "What in the world were you doing?"
Me: "What do you mean?" (I seriously didn't know what she was talking about)
Her: "I saw you gyrating and then doing some sort of Elvis Dance!" (Starts to demonstrate by doing some crazy cross of air humping, ice skating, and the hokey pokey).
Me: (awkward laugh followed by me thinking "What the hell are you doing!!! Those aren't my moves! And Elvis? ELVIS!?! Those were freaking Michael Jackson moves!")

Suffice to say, having a room full of college students laughing at her god-awful interpretation of my Costco dance moves was not a highlight of my dance history.

I got over it soon, and harnessed this embarassment into further popularity (and possibly embarassment). In eighth grade, all my friends knew that I liked Michael Jackson, and when a mini school talent show came up, I was goaded into signing up to do a performance of Billie Jean. There were no prizes or anything. It was for sheer entertainment.

The show was supposed to be for my "team" (In my middle school everyone was on "teams" of about 150 students each who shared core class teachers). I was the last act and, other teachers having heard about this little show, brought there students in to catch the end, just as school was ending. So now, instead of performing in front of 150 people, it was now more like 300 people. Great.

Well, I ended up getting the crowd into it and definitely being the most entertaining. I mean, you've gotta give props to a Chubby kid who's on stage in front of possibly the meanest age roup of people (Middle school kids) busting some moves right!?! I vividly remember walking through the crowds of people on the way to the bus pickup, getting high fives from random people I didn't know.

The legacy had begun.

Fast forward four years, and I'm a Senior in high school. I was actually moderately popular during my Senior year. Well, turns out there's a lip syncing contest, and immediately everyone I went to middle school with is pushing me to compete.

Honestly, the performance was one of the biggest rushes I've ever had. It was in an auditorium, so I was on stage with special lights programmed and "Billie Jean" blasting over the loud speakers. I came out and saw it was standing room only! 1000+ people in the audience! I came out and the crowd was electric. If that was not good enough, they seriously errupted when I did the moonwalk! I ended up winning second place, and I think the status I gained from that performance got me the "most spirited" senior class superlative.

From then to now, I've had some other moments. Freshman year in college, I did a speech about the history of breakdancing and proceeded to do a little demo with the class. Recently, I also won an impromptu "dance off" at the Shout House. There's two more little stories though.

So there's this upper class club in San Diego called Aubergine in San Diego that I went to with Aaron and Darren a few months ago. On the dance floor area, there's a stage in front with the DJ in the middle and a Go-Go dancer on each side. Well at point during the night, Darren and I noticed the Go-Go dancers were missing. We both looked at each other and new what to do.

Aaron meanwhile was talking to some girl. The conversation ensues as follows:

Girl:"Oh my God! There's two guys dancing up there!"
Aaron:(not looking at the stage) "Two guys?!? What the hell is going on?!? There's not supposed to be guys up there!"
Girl: "Well there are, and they're really rockin out!"
Aaron: (Turning around) Well they need to get off the sta...wait I know those guys!!! That's Arun and Darren!"

I don't know what happened after that, but she must have fallen in love with him by the mere fact that he knew US! I meanwhile was bustin my ass to "Welcome to Jamrock" on one side of the stage, high fiving the DJ.

Late night dancing can get crazy, but clubs and bars aren't the only place for them apparently. Last Friday night at about 2am, me and a big group of friends walk into Hoboken Pizza in Pacific Beach. People are getting rowdy, and the next thing I know, people are dancing on tables! The song changes and they're playing Journey!! (I'm a fan). Me being the type of person who likes to instigate craziness (see Football Fanatics )I hopped up on our table, pulled my some friends up, and started getting down!

To conclude, don't ever be afraid to dance anywhere. I've demonstated it can be done anywhere from a store, to a classroom, to a pizza place. The next time you get the urge, drop what you're doing, and bust a move!

Sunday Funday!

I have just discovered the true meaning of Sunday Funday. Allow me to elaborate.

Sunday is usually a nice relaxing rest day for me. I go out to breakfast, get some chores done, work on some of my projects, play music, play tennis, read, and pretty much putter around most of the day. Last Sunday morning was supposed to be more of the same.

Not by a Long Shot.

Sunday morning, I went down to Pacific Beach to hang out with my friend Bryan. We took the beach cruisers out, went to breakfast, and cruised up and down the boardwalk. So far, pretty normal right?

Well later that afternoon, we decide to go check out some skateboards and then go over to Lahaina's to grab a beer.

Let me give you a brief description of this place. Its an ultra casual beach front bar. Everybody congregates on the raised patio which faces the boardwalk and the ocean. Bikinis abound on the patio.

Well, it turns out on Sundays, this place has really cheap pitchers of beer, so to save money we just get a pitcher. Innocent enough right? We head out to the patio and share a table with some girls we just met. So far this Lahaina's is pretty fun! I can't complain about Beer and Bikinis!

As soon as these girls take off, we snake the table. Well, now we've just gotten a table but we've finished our pitcher. I suppose we should get another one seeing that it would be a shame to waste this table.

It turns out that having a table makes you immensely popular at this place. We had all types of people coming up and sharing pieces of our table throughout the afternoon. Every time we had a vacancy, I'd invite a new party to our area. By late afternoon, we had met probably 20 people who were all partying with us!

As you can probably guess the waitress continued to replenish our pitchers. All this socializing was making me quite thirsty. To boot, some of our new friends were rewarding our awesomeness by buying us additional pitchers! I'm not one to be rude, so I politely accepted these generous offers.

Some of the notable people we met:

-A Swiss couple visiting San Diego who were drinking prior to heading to Black's Beach to "have some naked fun."
-A stripper from Vegas
-An older lady who "loved" Bryan and was infatuated with my "great skin."
-A 33 year old Cougar who liked me and went on to say "I'm a little too old for you but I want you to meet my 17 year old daughter!" YIKES! No thank you. First of all, 17!?! Come on. Second of all, you were 16 when you had her so that makes her late on the baby making according to your history. Arun Jr. won't be coming for quite a few years.
-A giant party celebrating someones 23rd birthday.

By late afternoon, Jeff had joined our newly discovered Sunday Funday, and we left for another bar with the big birthday group which we had now been inducted to. Jeff and Bryan won us shots by beating some guys in foozball while I meanwhile started a "dance off" between these two twin girls that I met.

Oh but the dancing was far from over! We then beach-cruised over to Moondoggies and met some dance-happy bachelorette party. Well, I have been known to bust a move or two, and it would have been rude of me not to oblige their request, so I, out of the goodness of my heart, joined the fray with one of the brides-maids-to-be.

Yes, this newly discovered fun-day may soon become a regular event. Not only was Sunday ridiculously entertaining, but during the chaos, while talking to Bryan, I came up with a great idea for my next website which has the potential to add to my cash flow!

For you in San Diego, or anywhere for that matter, I highly recommend having a Sunday Funday every now and then, although I have feeling it might be a little more "now" than "then." :)

Wanted by the Mob

Last summer I visited New York City for the first time. I flew up to attend a wedding, but saved a couple days so I that I could go around and see as much as possible.

In two days I saw quite a bit: The United Nations Headquarters, Manhattan Museum of Art, Brooklyn Bridge, Times Squar, the Soupman Kitchen (No Soup for Me!...only because it was closed when I went by) and more. Perhaps the most interesting event of the short trip happened on my first night in NYC.

I was with my Mom and Sister as well as another group of family friends; about eight of us all together. We decided to go to this nice upperscale Italian restaurant. Everything was great! Food was impecable, I was downing cocktails, and we had a cute waitress.

Dinner wrapped up after a while and we headed down the stairs to the bottom floor of the restaurant to leave. As I'm leaving I hear these voices behind me. Then I hear real loud, "HEY! HEY! HEY!!!!"

I turn around as I'm entering the little circular revolving door chamber to leave the restaurant, and see a well dressed Italian guy with a briefcase get bum rushed by one of the waiters! The waiter's yelling at him, runs up and grabs the guy from behind, and throws him face first into and through the adjacent door right next to me!

At this point I'm a little freaked out and suprised by what's going on. My initial thought is this guy with the brief case must have insulted an overly sensitive waiter or something, but I soon learned it must have been more serious.

After throwing him out the door, two more italian waiters come out, pick up the guy, throw him into some patio chairs and hold him down while a third guy starts kicking him! Then, I swear to God, like five more guys come out and are getting involved!

Now normally, being the man that I am, I would have gone in and tried to break the whole thing up. Somehow though, I ended up all the way on the other side of the street as the fight escalated, so by the time I'd get all the way back across, the fight probably wouldn've been resolved, right? Lucky for those guys...

But the scuffle wasn't over! Who then comes jetting out the door but the CHEF! That's right, the Chef! Now's he's getting into it and yelling at the guy, and some other guys are trying to calm the chef down!

Me being safely on the other side of the street at this point decide to whip out my camera to get some of this golden footage. Afterall, its not everyday you get to see an italian mob flex there muscles! Unfortunately, it was too dark to get any decent footage so I wound up with nothing.

As the dispute was winding up, the mob lets up on the briefcase guy and kick him to the curb telling him the get the hell out of there. I'm still trying to get some footage at this point. Then I see someone point in MY direction!

Uh oh...not good.

I didn't want to have beat anybody down on my vacation, so instead as soon as I saw that finger pointing in my direction, I went into stealth mode and dashed into a nearby crowd of pedestrians.

All this on my first night in The Big Apple. Welcome to New York.

Kicked Out of College?

Believe it or not, there was a week in my life where I was sure my career at Cal Poly was over.

I was a freshman at Cal Poly and, being fresh from high school, was used to excelling at academics. Whatever happened to those days? I was enrolled in Computer Science 102 which turned out to be one of hardest classes I ever had at Cal Poly, and also one of the most educational. It also happened to take about ten years off the end of my life.

The class workload basically consisted of writing a lot of computer programs with a partner. When we picked partners at the beginning of the quarter, it was basically a crap shoot since no one knew anybody yet. And when I say "crap shoot" I'm serious.

I ended up with crap.

My lab partner was a smart guy, but he was also impractical, ADD, and a bit of a nut...no...a LOT of a nut. He would go crazy writing a bunch of code, then he would change his mind and change huge sections while I meanwhile was planning a clean, practical way of finishing this damn thing in a semi-insane amount of time. Suffice to say, this didn't really mesh with me especially considering I wasn't exactly proficient with computers yet either.

About half way through the quarter, the class was assigned a MOTHER of a program. I'm not talking about a normal mother either. I'm talking 300 lbs, 50 inch waist with cankles and curlers.

Not pretty.

So as we get started I get frustrated with my partner and decide to try and tackle this program on my own. Meanwhile, it turns out another guy in the class, Josh, lives a few doors down from me in my dorm and by this point we had become good friends.

Now Josh had an interesting problem with his lab partner. He was much smarter than me in his lab partner selection. I was young and naive and went with someone I hoped would be smart AND be a good partner. We know now this didn't pan out. Josh instead chose the HOT blond in the class. I don't think I need to tell you the odds of 1) Even having a hot blond in a computer science class and 2) That blond having any idea of what the hell is going on beyond the "pretty curves of the Arial font."

He knew what he was getting into, and now he was paying the price. Curiously, they had been getting stellar grades on their program assignments which totally perplexed me. How the hell is this possible?!! I knew Josh was smart, but I couldn't understand how the hell he was getting perfect grades all on his own!

I remember grilling him about it after which he revealed to me that he was writing all the programs himself, then she was taking them to her brother who was a software engineer for like Intel or something, and he would doctor up any mistakes so that the program was clean and efficient.

This strategy worked out for Josh for awhile until this fugly program was assigned. Josh and I discussed strategies for attacking this program for awhile, and decided to attack this program together. This seemed logical for a couple of reasons. Both Josh and I had an idea of what was going on and we were conveniently lived like 20 feet from each other so we could work whenever we wanted.

After some time, we finally finished the program, exhausted and depleted. Phone rings and its Josh's lab partner calling to see how "their" program is going.

Crap.

It dawns on us that we never informed her that we were going to work together on this. Josh, out of obligation now so close to the due date can't ditch her so we instead we decide to panic. Luckily, she had her brother write about a third of the program for her, so Josh managed to weave this into what we had written and was going to submit it as theirs.

I meanwhile went in and tried to change as much as possible so that it wouldn't look like one of us simply copied from each other. On the cover sheet of the submittal there was a section where you list other people you "discussed" the program with. In order to both be honest and avoid suspicion, we listed each other on our submittal.

Fast forward a week. Its the morning of a midterm, and Josh goes to see Prof. Stearns early to get the graded program back to study before the midterm. I meanwhile am eating breakfast at some crappy campus dining facility. Josh comes in looking flustered.

Josh: "Arun, we're in trouble..."
Me: "What do you mean Josh, I think we're ready for this test!"
Josh: "I just talked to Stearns and he said don't bother coming to class because he's flunking us and reporting us to judicial affairs"
Me:....
Josh: "Arun?"
Me: "I'm gonna be sick...listen don't panic. Let's show up, take the test, and we'll talk to him after."

Meanwhile, inside I'm panicking and freaking the hell out.

So after the test we go chat with the prof. It turns out that in about 800 lines of code, we had 3 consecutive lines that were identical and both exactly wrong in the same way. I was up front and told him we worked together but that there was no "copying" involved.

One of my main arguments was that if we were really cheating, why would we have been stupid enough to list each other on the cover sheet as other people we discussed the program with? (To which the answer I guess would be Yes, we were that stupid) He said he would look over the program again and determine if he felt this was cheating.

The following week was the longest week of my life. I have never been depressed, but I imagine this was the closest I've ever been to it. Josh and I were flipping out. The more I thought about it, the more I was scared that the prof would find some obscure thing to call us on. The religious guys in my dorms were all praying for us.
I seriously had no appetite (for once in my life) and was constantly worried.

Finally, a week later the prof spoke to us and was all jovial.

Stearns: "You guys did a pretty good job and I didn't find anything too incriminating! HA HA Haaaa!"
Me Thinking: ("Ha Ha Ha??? I'm freaking out all week and this is 'Ha ha ha' to you!?!")
Stearns: "I just want you two to work solo for the rest of the quarter and you'll be fine fellas!"

I wasn't sure whether to be pissed at him or exstatic. Me being me, I chose the latter.

I left the room and proceded to moonwalk up and down the hallway! "I'm BACK BABY!" After Josh came out, I continued doing the happy dance with him. (And by "with him" I mean alongside of him)

If fact, Prof Stearns actually ended up liking me and gave me a really favorable grade despite my sub par test scores in that class. Josh and Prof. Stearns eventually became good friends and I believe to this day, continue to play racquetball together. Josh now works as a successful software engineer for Amazon and well, I am continuing to live life awesomely in following "Arun's Guide to Lifetime Awesomeness."

Its one of those stories where at the time, I was an absolute mess, but looking back we can all get a good chuckle. So chuckle away while I work on recalling my next crazy story or adventure.

Arun versus The Mountain

Growing up in Alaska, it would be logical for one to think that I'm a real winter sports kind of guy. One might even assume that I am an avid skier who can carve his way down any mountain, big or small! After all, mountains were practically my backyard in Alaska.

One would be completely wrong.

It's not that I've never skied or anything. In fact, when I was a little kid, I took skiing and figure skating (yea yea, laugh it up) lessons. The problem is, that I haven't skied in probably 12 years.

So what did I decide to do? Well it only seemed logical that the best way to jump back into skiing was to tackle the biggest ski mountain in California. Mammoth definitely lives up to its name.

Saturday was clear and beautiful. It all came back to me pretty fast, and before long, I was carving my way down the bunny slopes! All was good until I encountered my first black diamond of the weekend.

My history with black diamonds is sketchy at best. The last time I went skiing, I took a black diamond at the bottom of the hill. I didn't really know how to carve at the time, so I'd pretty much just barrel my way down the hill.

So picture this. I'm flying down the hill, gathering speed with this big smile on my face. I enter the black diamond and now I'm really flying! "Whooo hooo!" As I finish the black diamond it suddenly occurs to me that I'm at the bottom of the hill, moving at an out-of-control speed. Then I realize that one of the skills that I'm not particularly proficient at is the art of stopping.

Crap.

So here I am flying towards the ski rack in front of the lodge at the bottom of the hill. In my desperation to stop, I decide that falling is the only way to avoid colliding with the ski rack. In my haste, I fall backwards.

Let me explain to you why this was a bad idea. When you fall backwards with skis on, your back and head hit the ground, but because the skis are so long, your legs remain planted in the skis on the ground and you continue rocketing forward with your back and head absorbing the comfy terrain.

I managed to hit a mound of snow that sent me spinning, skis and poles flying off of me and I came to rest just in front of the ski rack. It would have been less painful to have just collided with the rack.

So on Saturday, I put this little incident out of my mind and start heading down. I'm carving really hard and am moderately controlling my speed. Yes! I own this black diamond!

About half way down I recall my previous incident and trying to carve a little harder to slow down. In doing this I lost my balance. I knew I was going to eat it, the only question was in which direction? Again remembering how pleasant it felt to fall backwards I, for reasons I will never understand, decide to fall forward.

Note to self...forward fall = high faceplant probability.

Yes I faceplanted, and to make things things worse, since the hill was so steep, I kept going with my heading leading the way down the hill.

Other than that incident, the day was pretty good, and I was superbly confident in my skills for Sunday! Well, Sunday brought one of the worst blizzards I've ever been in. More than half of the mountain was closed due to high winds and blizzard conditions.

Me being supremely confident in my near-professional level skiing abilities, I took the highest lift that was open. I could hardly move at the top. It was so windy that I had to anchor my poles into the ground to keep from getting blown around. Not to mention, it was FREAKING COLD up there!

Now I just wanted to get the hell down...not as easy as it sounds. It was total white-out conditions. Going down the mountain, all I could see was white. I couldn't tell up from down or right from left. I couldn't see five feet in front of me and had no clue how fast I was going.

At one point, I felt a bunch of snow hitting my face and thought I was just skiing really fast. It turned out I was falling, but I was so disoriented I had no idea. I managed to make it down the hill, and promptly decided that was enough for the day.

Success! I escaped the mountain without injury and only above average amounts of embarrassment! I OWN skiing!

I'm Too Sexy For This Club?

You know I always thought I had potential to go into modeling. With my devilish good looks and charming personality, it seemed like the perfect career. Well, Saturday I got my chance to kick off my modeling career!

Saturday night, a big group of us decided to head out to Red Circle, an upscale lounge/nightclub located in the gaslamp district. This was our first time there, so we didn't really know what to expect.

The first thing I notice when we get in, is there's this temporary catwalk in the middle of the room with people and photographers surrounding it on either side. Apparently there is some sort of fashion show going on tonight.

Beautiful women are strolling up and down the catwalk showing off some local clothing line. The last girl does her thing, and they take a short break before the finale.

My mind starts scheming.

This is almost too good to be true. An open catwalk. A huge audience. But damn the security!

Next thing I know, Darren, Aaron, and Vanessa arrive, spot me, and stroll across the catwalk to my side of the room, not even realizing that it IS a catwalk!

Hmmm. Let me guide you through my stream of consciousness.

"Well, they got across relatively scott free, aside from a couple of funny looks from security. Maybe it's because they were oblivious? Let me do a test run to test the waters"

So I hopped on up, and pretended to just be trying to get to the other side of the room. Nothing happened. Security didn't come for me, but I also didn't get any hollers.

Back to my stream of consciousness.

"Ok, this time I'm putting on show! Now if security comes for me, I can hop over the security railing and "leg it" to avoid potential embarrassment."

I look over at my roommate Jeff, and discover he's thinking the same thing. Its time for a walk off! We get over to the front, a hop on up to the catwalk! This time we really put on a little show. I mean I was struttin my ass off. We got to the end and busted a couple of poses from which we got a couple of hollers.

I walked down the stairs thoroughly satisfied with my amazing performance and this big black security guard is just shaking his head at me...apparently he doesn't appreciate beauty of the male body...either that or he just wanted me to get my freelancing ass the hell off of his stage.

Yes, it was short, but it was oh so sweet! I suppose I should now add modeling to my resume, especially since I live in California. For any of you modeling agents out there, I have experience in runway modeling and will consider doing a gig for a nominal fee.

After all, 100% of my modeling gigs I've done for free, and a man's gotta eat right?

Moped Madness

One of the most exciting days I had in college, was the day my new moped was delivered to me from Germany. I was set to tear up the streets of San Luis Obispo with 50cc's of raw power!

Let me tell you, 50cc's is a hell of a lot of power considering I spent my first two years of college using my bicycle to go everywhere. Going to school was 3 miles of uphill riding everyday, so I always had to bring a change of clothes with me because I'd be a sweaty mess by the time I got there. No more! I'd now be cruising to school in style! (well...sort of)

The second day I had my moped, I was so excited to show it off to my friends. After class I cruised over to my friends Tara, Becca, and Jess's to show off my new toy and let them ride it around. Little did I know, I was about to learn of the true power of the 'ped.

So we go to this Church parking lot, and after they ride it around I'm demonstrating how to kick start the moped. The thing with mopeds is, there is no neutral, so when you start the engine and give it gas, the rear tire spins. Consequently, the moped has a special kick stand that holds the back tire up off the ground so the moped doesn't take off when you start it.

Apparently, this kick stand is a brilliant invention.

As I was demonstrating, I grew tired of repeatedly putting the moped back on the stand to start it. Big mistake. I kick back on the pedal, give a little gas and the moped bolts out from between my legs! The moped rears up on the back tire as I'm hanging onto the handlebars for dear life!

Now here's the problem with holding on. As the moped is rearing up and I'm clutching the bars, the throttle is naturally being twisted back even more thus giving more juice and throwing me around even more. By the time I let go, me and moped are on the ground. I look up and I see the of them just staring at me with their hands covering their mouths in disbelief. Suffice to say, the demonstration was over.

Not my smoothest moment.

Aside from that one incident, riding the moped for two years was a blast! Sure I looked a little awkward as a 6'2" 200 lb guy on a little motorized bike but I would routinely get hollers of approval riding that thing around the city.

There were however some issues with having a moped as my only means of transportation. I was screwed when it rained. This thing was like a death machine in water, but I had no choice but to ride it.

Imagine hydroplaning at 35 mph on the shoulder of a busy street. The disk breaks stop being effective in the rain and as cars pass by, you get a nice refreshing blast of street water. To top it off, you can hardly see because the rain is pelting your face and eyes. By the time I'd get to work, I'd be completely soaked through every layer of clothing.

In fact once, I got a flat tire in the rain. Super. And the problem with anything malfunctioning on the moped is that there is ONE shop in SLO that knows how to fix mopeds, so anytime anything went wrong, it became a project to get it repaired.

The helmet was also not most stylish thing ever. If you've ever seen the movie "Space Balls," the helmet is pretty much the same thing Vader's troops had on there heads.

I will say that it was a riot to ride though. If you took speed bumps at just the right angle, you could get some air! Also, I couldn't argue with getting 100 miles per gallon. I even attached a couple of collapsible baskets on the sides so I could get grocery!

So for those of you who want a cheap, ultra fun, and really but not really stylish way of cruising around town, get the 'ped!

Break Salsa

Most people that know me, know I love to dance. No I don't mean the professionally, froofy (yes I said it) type, but I do have rhythm and like to get down. I wish I had the skills of some of those crazy new-school break dancers who flip on their heads and spin like pinwheels, but my attempts are more like self-breaking than break-dancing. I have been known to do a mean worm though...

I do like participating in most types of dancing though (except for some of that "interperetive dance" crap. Seriously, what the hell is that? It's not dancing, its more like "slowly controlled spasms!" Calling that dancing is like calling bowling a sport.) When I was a kid, I was a huge Michael Jackson fan, and as a result would practice busting his moves.

In fact, during my Senior year in high school, I did a lip-synch performance of "Billie Jean" on stage in front of about a thousand people. The excessive crotch grabbing and intense moonwalking made the crowd go wild!

So anyways, last night, five of us decide to head to Cafe Sevilla in the Gaslamp for Salsa dancing! This scared me for three reasons.

1. Aaron and Vanessa tell me that the instructor is a "slave driver"
2. I haven't done any salsaing in two years, and even that was the only lesson I ever took.
3. I don't particularly want to embarass myself on the dancefloor.

Despite these reservations, I was still excited. In the lesson, we switched partners a lot which was cool unless you ended up with someone completely rhythmless. There was this one girl who not only had no rhythm, but was also drunk. Our "dancing" consisted of me holding her up and moving her around to no beat in particular. Twirling? Out of the question. That would have been a disaster.

The lesson finished and I had a new twirl under my belt (along with like two I knew from before). The free dance started, and honestly, I was a little nervous to get out there and dance! (I know...not like me) I finally made it out there with a few girls and had a blast!

There were a bunch of latin guys around that were just ridiculously good! I mean CRAZY good. So me not wanting to be shown up, started inventing new twirls and maneuvers on the fly! Yes, I was twirling girls all over the place. When I would start a move or twirl, I really didn't know how it was going to end up at all, but just executed and hoped for the best.

Towards the end I started incorporrating some of my "old school" break dancing moves into my salsa. I would do "the wave" into a girl, then transition that into a twirl!

Yes, I have invented a new dance form. I call it, Break Salsa. Its Latin America meets Brooklyn. A fusion of salsa moves, break dancing, and uninhibited improv!

Act now and I'll give you the special "first customer ever" discount for a private lesson.

Stranded, Penniless...and kidnapped?

So Saturday night seemed like it would be like any other fun night. Little did I know it would be anything but normal.

The night started out pretty low key. A bunch of us headed down to the Yardhouse for some beer, then Darren, Brooke, and I split and went over to a club called Belo. In case you couldn't tell by the name, it's underground which means cell phones only work only 25% of the time.

So anyways, Brooke decideds to leave early which leaves just Darren and I. We separate each meeting different girls. So I am in one room dancing my little hiney off and I have no idea where Darren is.

1:45 rolls around and I take a look at my phone and I have 3 missed calls from Aaron (who was downtown but not at Belo). I also notice Darren texted me an hour ago saying he was ready to leave. I figure he'll wait until after 2:00 (he drove us) when the club closes and they kick people out, then we'll meet up.

So I'm hangin out with this girl waiting for the lights to come on and the bouncers to herd us towards the exit. I'm not paying attention to the time because I figure the lights turning on will be my cue.

Well the next time I look at my watch, its 2:35! Apparently they now only stop serving alcohol at 2:00 but the DJ keeps spinning until 4:00. So I whip out my phone to "number close" and then call Darren.

Dead. Doesn't turn on...nothing. Great. I look around the half empty club. No Darren. I go outside. No Darren.

I have a feeling Darren thinks I left with someone because my phone is off and he hasn't seen me for hours. I run over the parking structure...car's gone. Just great. I'm stranded downtown, it's freezing cold, I have NO cash whatsoever, and my cell phone is dead. Wonderful.

I wander the streets looking for an atm to get a cab. I'm pissed because I know the bastard, crooked cab drivers in San Diego will charge me like fourty or fifty bucks to take me home.

I finally find an atm and there's a mexican guy, late 30's in front of me. He sees me struggling with my phone, and after some conversation offers, "hey homie, I can give you a ride. I gotta go in that direction sorta."

At this point I'm debating whether riding with this sketchy guy is a good idea. I half heartedly agree when I see he is with another girl and we walk like 10 blocks in the cold to wherever the hell he parked his car. The whole walk I'm analyzing everything he's saying trying to get a read on if this guy is legit or not. Everytime he glances away, I checking his belt for knives or guns or anything. So far, he seems safe enough.

As we leave downtown, he starts telling me about an after-party he's going to thats not even close to my house, and he thinks I should go. I politely decline but wonder how my house is "on the way" to this party across the county. To make matters sketchier, he starts taking all the back streets to "avoid cops." Avoid cops? Why the hell do we need to avoid cops!?!

Now I'm thinking "what the hell have I gotten myself into!" and start eyeing him down for any bulges in his jacket. I then think, "well if I make it outa this, it will be good blog material!" After sometime he finally decides its safe to get on the freeway, only he wants to take one that goes nowhere near my house! I'm not having any of it. After sometime I finally convince him to take a decent route.

Maybe we should have stuck to the back roads. He starts driving 110mph on the freeway at 3:30 am!!! I'm clutching the "oh shit" bar watching at least two separate pulled over vehicles on the shoulder wiz by, and praying that I make it out of this alive.

I had heard stories about people in mexico getting kidnapped and forced to withdraw money from atms. Thats all that was running through my mind. This man is going to take me on a tour of San Diego and take all of my money. Then we're probably gonna end up in some high speed hot persuit that ends in me being held hostage or something.

I convince him to drop me off at a friends house because A) Its right off the freeway and B) I don't particularly want him to know where I live.

To my relief we finally arrive near my friends house and tell him I can walk the rest. I tried to pay him the twenty bucks I took from the atm, but he refuses! "Nah essay! I'm not like that yo! Besides, friendship is more important!" Wow. This guy goes on to talk about how we should go hang out and pickup "tha biiitches" and stuff.

So I made it back, and though at one point I thought I might have been kidnapped, the guy turned out to be pretty damn decent (as well as a little crazy). SO what's the lesson? Trust your instinct when a random sketchy guy offers you a ride home...you just might save a couple bucks!

Dynamite Weekend...

Since I moved down to San Diego, every weekend has been very unique. Last weekend was just another of those which had crazy unnexpected twists and turns.

So Friday night comes around which usually means I'm not gonna be eating at home. Jeffrey and I head down to Bronx pizza which, if you like New York style pizza, is a must try. Best pizza in town is still Theo's in PB, but I digress. My buddy Darren and I decide to save some energy for Saturday and have a relatively low key evening tonight, so we go downtown to the Onyx room for a few drinks.

Enter Allison Dynamite

I don't even know if that's her real last name, but I think it suits that crazy Texan. Yes she was visiting from Austin and she and her buddy Charlie invaded our "mellow night." Here we are, Darren and I, chillin at Onyx room, and its relatively early so there's practically no one here. Dynamite strolls in and I take notice because:

1. She's cute
2. She's Dressed very differently than most girls downtown

So who is she? Well an artist and, get this, a stand up comedian. Apparently she is friends with Darren's favorite comedian Jim Gaffigan. I don't know who the hell he is, but apparently he's funny. Anyways, we get to talking and next thing I know, I'm at another bar taking shots of wisky with beer chasers and highfivin everyone. We are crusin all around this bar ("The Bitter End" which by the way is pretty neat) and it turns out Dynamite actually has a broken foot. Apparently alchohol dulls the pain because she was in the ER the next day.

Charlie was a nice guy but I hardly saw him because it seemed like he was outside all night smokin cigarettes. Charlie, you're a cool guy, but seriously, the cigs are killing not only your lungs, but your social life as well.

Anyways, Dynamite and Charlie end up bailin out early so Darren and I stay to Dance the night away. Was the night over???

Not by a long shot.

Lets just say I might have accidentally broken a someones $500 Chanel wallet (who the hell carries a freakin $500 wallet anyways?). Luckily she loved me so much that she wasn't mad in the least :) Darren meanwhile encounters possibly the most mentally unstable, low self esteem, desperate person I've ever met (That's another long story which I don't have the patience to tell).

Anyways Dynamite and Charlie were fun and I'd say our night turned out being much more eventful because of them. In fact Saturday, our planned crazy night, turned out being tame in comparison to "mellow" Friday.

Yes, it was just another quiet Friday night for the boys.