Archive for April, 2010


This comic made me laugh for about 3 minutes straight

I don’t care if you don’t think it’s funny, because that would mean that you’re an absolute moron, because this comic is genius. Pure genius.


Hey, Wellington, wake up!

Yeesh! Let me tell you something about the sports fans in Wellington;  they share some of the same traits as George Bush’s intelligence or Barack Obama’s birth certificate: They’re pretty much non-existent (that’s a bi-partisan burn for all you poli-sci buffs). We went to the Exodus Wellington Saint’s game last night at the mighty TSB Arena (which is no bigger than your high school gymnasium. I don’t care who is reading this sentence, that last statement is true). There are a few things you can correctly assume about basketball in New Zealand, but let me give you two big spoilers. The American imports make the biggest impact during the game, and nobody else in the arena knows what basketball is. This includes the refs.

I guarantee she calls a better game than NZ refs.

But the thing that concerned me the most, more than the shoddy refereeing, more than the lopsided scoring between Americans and Kiwis, was the complete lack of enthusiasm from the crowd. Now I understand, most Kiwis don’t care about basketball nearly as much as they do about rugby or cricket, but if you pay to see a sporting event, shouldn’t you invest some emotion to go with that $10 ticket and $5 beer? I tried my best to get the crowd into it. Do you know how tough it is to be the only guy calling someone a queer while he shoots a free throw? First off, the guy probably didn’t even hear me because I was a few rows back. Second off, the only response I got from the crowd was some dirty looks and one stuck up bitch telling me to shutup. In that moment I yearned for the rabid confines of Fenway Park’s bleacher section or the nose bleeds in the Garden. Those are real fans. Fans who don’t care what they scream or what their voice sounds like when the final whistle blows, they just want to voice the support. The loudest the crowd at the TSB “Arena” got was when the gorilla mascot was giving away free chocolates. Sidenote: Why is there a gorilla mascot for the Wellington Saints?

I rule at Photoshop.

Calling them a “home crowd” is insulting to any crowd that’s ever assembled to support anything ever. I’ve seen more raucous behavior at a funeral, and it wasn’t even an Irish funeral. Seriously, Wellington fans, you’re allowed to take your hands out from your pockets or off your cell phones to applaud when the home team does something noteworthy, even if it’s just one free throw. From the way these people sat on their hands most of the game you might have thought there was a contest where the quietest fan gets a years supply of Irvine Mince and Cheese Pies, the Kiwi’s only source of nourishment. Most of these fans are even worse than the douchebags who show up at a Celtics game just to say they went, use their Blackberry’s the whole game and then duck out after the 3rd quarter… and those people are the WORST!

"NBA? mor lyke NB-Ghey! lol"

Honestly, it’s just seems to be a lack of passion. That might be a basketball thing or that might be a Kiwi thing, but people here aren’t exactly known for getting fired up. It’s not necessarily a bad thing; the laid-back attitude here is very relaxing at times. It just would be nice if these athletes who train their whole lives to play some semblance of professional sport would get a little support behind them. I won’t let it bother me too much. After all, it’s not like I moved here. Soon I’ll be basking in the glory of the Fenway Faithful, drinking a $14 Bud Light and munching my third $12 hot dog, those too-cool-to-make-some-noise Wellington fans a distant memory. I’ll finally be home, with my crowd.

Does this image apply? Maybe not. But it's still awesome.


Skydiving: My new favorite thing to do on Easter.

I’ll be honest; I’m terrified of heights. I get nauseous just looking out the window of an airplane 2 seconds after it lifts off the ground, so the idea of actually jumping out of one seems insane, right? Well it is, there’s no twist there. It is literally insane. Luckily I have a good enough head on my shoulders that I wouldn’t do such a thing… until the very first time the opportunity presented itself.

Let me paint you a picture. Queenstown, NZ. One of the most scenic places on Earth. Beautiful lakes, awe-inspiring mountains, quaint little town, great night life. Not much more to ask for here. There’s a gondola you can take to the top of a hill that gives you incredible views of the entire town plus the lakes and surrounding mountains (fittingly called The Remarkables). We even saw the original bungee platform, where an old man was getting ready to jump. We watched him from the viewing area next to his wife and her friend. Their conversation went thusly:

“He’s doing this so he can tell our grand-daughter how cool he is.”
“I can’t see him, where is he?”
“He’s behind that pole. He’s the one wearing the brown pants.”
“Were his pants brown before or after he looked at the valley below?”


Needless to say, he had a great time and we all reveled in his merriment. But something for me was missing. I was at the top of the Skyline Ridge, looking down on this beautiful town, but I wanted more. I wanted to experience Queenstown in a way I never thought possible. I wanted to see the scenery they only show in promotional videos. I wanted to see the ground racing towards me at terminal velocity from 12,000 feet. If only there was a way!



Let me tell you something about skydiving: It is the greatest thing ever. No, shutup. It is. I can’t think of a bigger rush than roaring towards the ground as fast as gravity will pull you, the whole time juggling two thoughts; “This is unbelievable!” and “Mother of God I hope the parachute opens.” For the duration of the free-fall (about 70-80 seconds) the cameraman is constantly trying to get you to smile at him for some good photo ops, but honestly, I was a bit preoccupied with thinking of a way to justify how dumb I was going to look when they were developed.

It's like I'm smelling cookies

The wind was cold.. and I didn't want to smile too much... and my face was sore... Shutup!

Whether I looked cool or whether I looked like a gay man having a joygasm from the smell of delicious baked goods is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is, I had the time of my life. The most incredible feeling has to be the first few seconds, when your body is trying to comprehend the fact that you want to injure it and your brain is deciding whether to fire the “smile and love it” nerves or the “look dumb and scream a bunch” nerves (I can’t recall what my reaction was, but I’m fairly positive I wasn’t smiling). But the craziest thing was when the parachute was open, and all the noise of free-fall cuts out, you could hear a pin drop. It’s such a serene moment that it’s hard to believe only a few seconds ago I was almost positive I would tear right through the Earth’s crust and land in Satan’s lap.

You get about 5-6 minutes of gentle floating towards the ground, where my skydive instructor told me about how he wants to open up his own skydiving business (yawn). The landing is much softer than one would imagine and you’re left with the feeling like you want to do it again right away, not unlike the first time you squeeze a boob, amirite fellas?

Oh Shane, your gentle landings are like reaching 2nd base!

In summation, I highly recommend skydiving. It is definitely the craziest/most fun thing I’ve ever done and all I can think about is when to do it next. Bring a friend or that special someone and see who can be braver when falling from the sky at roughly 124mph, (in my case, Ari was way braver, no contest).

Pictured from left to right: Tough, Pansy

April 2010
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