My Triumphant Return

“Creativity comes from kindness.”

- George Clooney

(Are you sure, George? Granted I’m no Shakespeare, but I’m pretty sure that isn’t where it comes from - I know a lot of creative and original assholes.)

Anyway, in the immortal words of Eminem, “guess who’s back? Back again?” That’s right, like Michael Corleone after he visits Sicily in The Godfather - I’m back.

Over the last few weeks I’ve had to study and take the NASD’s Series 6 examination, took a 24-hour trip to Chicago - and subsequently make a really big life decision - and organize and participate in a very successful Hurricane Katrina fundraiser. So I’ve been really busy. But now I am reenergized, ready to do some heavy lifting, anxious to write again and get back to posting on a regular basis. Thanks for your patience and I promise it will be worth your time.

First thing first, the Katrina Drink-a-thon was a big success. Assuming everyone collects what everyone said they were going to pledge, we raised over $9,000! Very exciting! And we are very proud and thankful to everyone who helped out – from the drinkers, to the sober spotters, to those who gave money – THANK YOU! Please visit the official Katrina Drink-a-thon Web site for a bunch of pictures and information about the night, media links and other stuff.

I was planning on keeping a running journal of the evening like I did for Bryn’s birthday and when I watched Forrest Gump, but unfortunately my drunk ass wasn’t able to stay focused enough to write anything anyone would fine interesting in reading. In fact, these are my only coherent notes from the night …

- Our official Katrina Drink-a-thon t-shirts that read, “drunk.” and “sober.” are big hits. We should figure a way to raise or make money selling them. Another good idea for a t-shirt would be one that reads, “Yes, I’ll have another.”

- The funny thing about fundraising is that when you ask people to donate money and they say no, everyone has a story to tell you on why they can’t ...

“I already gave.”

“I don’t like the Red Cross.”

“I hate George Bush and FEMA.”

“I am into a local mobster for $300 already and he is going to break my thumbs if I don’t make good on my debt this week.”

I don’t care if you don’t give, that’s your decision. It’s okay. Really. Don’t feel guilty to say no, I didn’t/don’t take it personally. If you can afford to give, but already gave, great! That’s what is most important – not that you donated through the Drink-a-thon. If you can’t afford to give, that’s understandable, too. It was really entertaining to hear people give excuses for why they can’t donate money, as if I would get mad or have a bad opinion of them or something.

- Sitting next to our booths was a guy proudly donning a Missouri Tiger t-shirt. At first he was excited that we noticed his allegiance to Mizzou, only to be rendered speechless when we showered him with a steady and heavy stream of “Muck Fizzou”, “Rock Chalk, Jayhawks” and wheat waving. Good times. He had no idea what to say when confronted by a half-dozen cocky, fundraising, Jayhawk fans. I wish I had taken a picture of the expression on his face. Priceless.

- Evidently I had three drinks in me by 9:33 and Lucas hit double-digits at 10:45.

And that’s it. That’s all the notes I took. Totally disappointing. I wish I had more for you, but I don’t. So I apologize. You’re just going to have to trust me that it was a fun night, filled with great fundraising stories and inspirational moments abounding everywhere. It probably was one of the greatest nights in drinking history, but I don’t have any written proof. My bad.

DRAMATIC TOPIC CHANGE

Last week at work I was having a conversation right in front of the restrooms with a lady I rarely, if ever, talk to (in fact, I don’t even know her name). We were having the typical work conversation, standing two feet from the men’s and women’s bathrooms. So as we are talking, one of our co-workers opens the door to the men’s restroom and walks out. Right as he opens the restroom door, the other guy already inside the bathroom, starts to unload really loudly. I mean, this guy is totally crapping his brains out, and it’s so loud that it echoes out into the hallway where I am having this conversation. Talk about awkward. I barely know this women and we are sharing a moment in which we are listening to someone's bowel movements. Obviously we both noticed, but didn’t know each other well enough to comment or laugh. Really funny, but I felt bad for the guy crapping inside. Poor soul is just trying to take care of business, and through no fault of his own, someone opens the bathroom door for the whole 10th floor to hear him shitting.

And finally, my unprovoked attack on chopsticks last month caused a small stir. Evidently, there are some people out there who feel very strongly about eating with those stupid wooden sticks. So I saved an email I received from my Asian friend, Beth, defending them. Now Beth is a fine human being who happens to hail from The Philippines, and feels a cultural attachment to chopsticks. I guess those sentiments are not unlike the countless everyday examples of Texans who still ride horses to work because they feel a similar cultural connection – but I digress. Anyway, here is what Beth had to say:

“Leave the chopsticks alone, will ya? They represent humanity’s first step towards civilization. They used their hands to eat before the chopsticks came along. And maybe if more Americans used chopsticks, obesity wouldn’t be such a problem here. I find myself eating less when I’m using chopsticks. I mean, seriously, how many obese Asian people do you see (apart from the Sumo wrestlers – and they’re revered in their country)? It’s not just a romantic attachment. You just hate it because you can’t use it properly.”

Okay, first: They represent humanity’s first step towards civilization. They used their hands to eat before the chopsticks came along.

I guess that means we shouldn’t use gas, matches and electricity to start fires then. I challenge Beth to start a fire this winter in New Jersey by only rubbing chopsticks together, since that process would represent humanity’s first steps in creating fire. Please rent Cast Away starring Tom Hanks as a training video. Also, if you don’t want to start a fire using chopsticks, I want you to use only wood in your life – no more metal, steel or plastic for you, Beth.

And maybe if more Americans used chopsticks, obesity wouldn’t be such a problem here. I find myself eating less when I’m using chopsticks. I mean, seriously, how many obese Asian people do you see (apart from the Sumo wrestlers – and they’re revered in their country)?

Okay, then I want you to sell your Honda Civic and buy a brand new horse. I mean, cars are harmful to the environment (just like obesity is harmful to the body) and the best way to cut down on poisoning the atmosphere would be to not to drive your car. I bet you would travel a lot less if you had to take a horse to go out with your friends. Plus, I don’t think measuring inefficiency is the best way to evaluate something either. I am sure you do eat less because you are using chopsticks; that shows how inefficient they really are when compared to a fork and a spoon. Sort of like how you would travel less on horseback if comparing that to a car.

It’s not just a romantic attachment. You just hate it because you can’t use it properly.

It is a romantic attachment, otherwise you wouldn’t see chopsticks just in Asian restaurants and Beth wouldn’t be saying things like, “they represent humanity’s first step towards civilization.” Eating with chopsticks is the equivalent of using a bow and arrow, or using a typewriter, or staying at a hotel that doesn’t have a television or indoor plumbing, or buying a corded telephone, heck, even sending a letter in the mail to someone who has email – they are all things in the past that we have emotional attachments to, even though technology offers us better and more efficient solutions.

And for the record, this American can use chopsticks properly.