Come this Tuesday I will no longer be employed by H&R Block. I had a blast even when I was down mostly because of the people I worked with. I’m not going far for christ’s sake, I just won’t be there day in day out trying to make you laugh, or pissed off; however you want to look at it.

I’m going to miss you jackasses – especially you scarecrow.

What people here in the mid-west don’t seem to understand is that there is a utopia out there hidden from them. Sure, Kansas City has things like kick-ass bar b q, very friendly people, and crazy light traffic (trust me, you don’t KNOW bad traffic if this is all you’ve ever experienced)…but you are unaware of a simple pleasure that so very close to my heart; UTZ potato chips.

See, you can only get them on the east coast (right right, you can find pretzels at Sams or Costco, but not the CHIPS people). I grew up with these all natural chips. Backyard crab feasts with UTZ. Picking with UTZ. Comfort food UTZ. When I discovered that MSG was slowly killing me and I would no longer be able to eat Bar B Q chips, SourCream and Onion or even *gasp* no more Cool Ranch I was devastated. But you see, UTZ doesn’t USE MSG like all the other brands of chips so I’m SAFE! But I can’t GET them here – unless I get cases SHIPPED to me that is!

So thanks again to my wife for the wonderful present (see, my folks and my cousin Moe sent me a couple boxes when I had sinus surgery a couple moths ago). And no, you can’t have any.

10951 days I have been on this earth. As far back as I can remember I have been obsessed with cars – specifically fast cars. Porsches always attracted me due to the pristine lines, engines, handling, and out and out power. While at Digex I started seriously researching sports vehicles: Volvo 1800s, Austin Healy Sprite, and the Porsche 912. I figured a Porsche would be out of my reach for a long time till I discovered the little known (to me) 4 cyl classic Porsche with the 911 look: 912. I have a whole site dedicated to the 912, specifically my first Porsche.

I sold her (the 912 that is) for a number of reasons, but mainly to get a 911. As much as I love the 912s (and I plan on having more when I have the space) I needed more POWER. I looked at the 944 Turbo S, older (70s) 911s, but really fell in love with the 1989-1992 AWD 911 Carrera 4. Anyhow, I now have a whole site dedicated to my new Porsche as well, so I’ll end this history lesson here.

I am now 30 years old. I wanted to accomplish a number of things before I hit this mark, especially since I didn’t think I’d make it this far. Now I have to make a whole new list of things I want to accomplish for the next 30 years – I think I’ll start with the next 10 to be safe.

Love you mom & dad, love you jen & mark & kids, love you tammy & chris & kids, love you karen & jim, love you mildred & roy, love you ruth & jack, love you ty & chloe, and especially love a certin person named kara.

So we attend my cousin’s sons birthday at the Arena Football game in downtown Kansas City. They have all the kids set up in a big open room. Multiple kids parties here – great idea for a set up (stick kids in a big open room with small footballs and they will have a good time). Fun time. Some kid in a go-cart comes in and buzzes the room. A guy doing magic. Kids liked it.

So I’m towards the back of this open area, walking with my little girl, and what do I see enter the hall?? A Maxim-Photo-Spread come to life. Holy god!? In saunters the Arena Football cheerleaders to pose for pictures with the little boys who’s birthdays it is. The boys are 6!?!?

After I deal with the daggers my wife has shot me for staring open mouthed, I walk my little girl around some more. My son (so I am told, I missed him actually saying it) leans in and blurts out “they’re HOT!” My boy.

As they work their way to the exit, I see my wife jog after them. She turns around with a shit-eating grin – seems her husband has a birthday coming up. Not the best quality picture, but a kick ass one none the less.

I’ve been having a string of good fortune as of late. I’ve recently accepted the position of Vice President of Interactive Strategy for Two West Inc. I start my new position April 17th. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but I am rather excited at the potential for the future; which leads me to this afternoon:

I like to believe that I am a compassionate person. I try and offer help where I can to total strangers as well as good personal friends. I get on the elevator – 32nd floor. I’m already changed into my workout clothes. I’m pumped for a number of reasons (going to the gym early, leaving early, father-in-law is taking the boy for the night). Elevator stops on 27 (I believe). A woman enters the elevator, obvious that she had been (a) crying (b) about to cry (c) obviously upset.

“are you ok?” I ask.

“no, I’m not ok…I’ve just been fired…” she blurts out.

What seams like an endless passing of floors on the way down to one I’m hit with “holy shit, get me off this god-damn elevator” to “holy shit, this poor girl” to “what in the hell am I going to say to this woman to help her in the least!?”

“I’m so sorry…” is all I can muster. Stunned, not a clue, hoping she sees into my face and realizes that I will in fact listen for the remainder of ride and actually care.

“I had too much to drink last night and said something I shouldn’t have…I’ve worked there 10 years…what am I going to do…” she almost mutters to herself all the while looking blankly into my eyes.

“I’m so sorry…are you going to be ok to drive” I say, still not having a CLUE what to do in a situation like this.

“Probably not…” Choking back the tears.

Elevator hits one.

I’m stunned – standing there having just been stripped from my high, looking at this woman who at that very moment was in the complete opposite state of mind as I glances at me for the last brief moment…

“and the worst part is my husband has cancer” stated matter of fact with a slight hint of rage.

And then she disappeared in the opposite direction. As she walked away I said for the last time “I am so sorry…” which now sounds so trite it sickens me.

Could I have said something other then “I’m sorry” to make her feel any better? Did I even help by opening my mouth and asking if everything was ok? Could I have done more? I just think I could have done more then “I’m sorry” even though I really am. What a shitty end to the day – to be fired the day after you say something in mixed company the night before.

Sitting here (still) all I can think is I am so very sorry for this woman who got onto the elevator this afternoon. I really hope she is ok.

I’ve been grappling with a number of varying emotions as of late, specifically with the current state as to which I reside. I wasn’t raised with a football in my hand, nor was I inundated with the Sunday spectacle which is traditionally know as “Game Day”. Sports were always an option, a fun activity, not a way of life. I have no memories of hard coaches pushing us to the limit of our abilities. I have no memories of a father forcing me to “…catch one more…” or “…you can run faster then that…” or “…what are you, a girl??…”. What I do have are fond memories of playing catch with my dad, playing soccer as far back as I can remember, and how much it hurt to be cut from the Baseball Team my Freshman year of High School. It never occurred to me while I was living on the East Coast that I in fact love sports – watching Caps games (glass seats, of course), the O’s at Camden Yards (box seats, of course), the Bullets (now known as the Wizards), and even the Skins and Ravens. But how does that play out for my son; my daughter?

This past weekend my boys (the 10 six year olds whom I coach U6 soccer – I call them my boys) played their second game. I won’t even go into the debacle of the first. We play split fields: Aggressive and Non-Aggressive. I coach the Aggressive side while my assistant coach coaches the Non-Aggressive. After the game, my son runs over to me (having played on the Non-Aggressive side) and screams “I scored 3 GOALS dad!!!”

My son. 3 goals. Holy shit. 3 goals? Not 3. He scored 3!?

So after a post game custard and I start to review the things I want to work on for next practice, it hits me – I’ve been introducing soccer to my son since he was very little. Soccer is one of my favorite sports, so I started him young. Fundamentals, introduction of varying tactics, aggressive attacking on my part to allow a core understanding. It worked. I mean, holy fuck, it actually worked. And I saw it coming. I watched him start to dribble the ball without thinking about it – with both feet. It’s taken him a little longer then most, but I hoped that when it clicked, he’d be stellar – and he is.

When we moved to the mid-west it was a “concern” as to how I would broach the sports issue with my own children living in such a sports engrossed town? Taking cues from my own father while incorporating a drive that I felt could have pushed me a little harder has really brought a sense of “this is cool as shit”.

I look forward to the day I can scream at my daughter openly, with a group of witnesses such things as “ATTACK!!” and “you call that a KICK!?” and my favorite “sweep the LEG!”

So much has happened since last I posted…little site called H&R Block launched to a new Look and Feel, shit with the kids, crap with the wife, new soccer season, still no cool ass new car, and a ton of other stuff that seems to be missing…OH YES, the whole no smoking or drinking thing. Kind of hard to have a BLOG called drunk in life when in fact you are currently sober in life? Oh well, next January 6th we’ll see who confusing who!?

So in a moment of random events, I mention to my nephew (who is into Transformers) that a live motion picture is in the works. I look up when the release is (2007) and let him know. I search on eBay for a Megatron to see what those realistic guns are going for – HOLY SHIT, $351!!?? My mom and dad wouldn’t let me have one of these beauties as a child because I might have “pointed it at someone…” all the while owning REAL guns which I shot in my backyard? Go figure.

“We know that Prokudin-Gorskii intended his photographic images to be viewed in color because he developed an ingenious photographic technique in order for these images to be captured in black and white on glass plate negatives, using red, green and blue filters. He then presented these images in color in slide lectures using a light-projection system involving the same three filters.”
Making Color Images from Prokudin-Gorskii’s Negatives

So, it seems we actually had color negatives in and around 1909. He knew the process would work at some point and the technology would catch up to his vision. Amazing.

I try and find different ways to express myself creatively. You try being a creative individual when you are limited day to day in corporate america. I know I’ve whored my sole for a somewhat comfortable life, and my “work” has suffered because of it. Where the hell is this going you ask? So we’re in PierOne looking for holiday gifts. I glaze over. I find that in 5 minutes, I’ve walked the store 3 times now, while my wife is stuck in one fucking section. I mean, for god’s sake, it’s PierOne – hell, it’s even a PierOne CLEARANCE store – just pick it up and lets get the hell out of here.

That’s not 100% accurate, but you get where I’m at.

So when the wife catches up to me we’re in the candle holder section. I look over at these things stacked and say:

“Those are kind of cool…”

Not skipping a beat (since I hate all things candles I’m sure my wife is thinking I’m drunk and she’s about to score the score of all ages – more useless candle crap) she says:

“Where we’re you thinking (of putting them)…”

To which I respond:

“On the wall. Above the mantle.”

Wife:

“Really? How?”

Me:

“Screws. They’re just made of wood…”

So my art project comes to life. 2 screws per little “hand-carved” candle holder. Less then a buck a pop (they were listed at $8 originally. Who the fuck spent $8 a pop on one of these? If that’s you reading, PLEASE send me a picture of yourself, I’ll do a post solely dedicated to you!!). I like it. Wife likes it. It’s pretty cool looking. The picture doesn’t do it justice.

As I sit here wanting to rant about all the things current in my life I’m struck with one small issue – I can’t hop in my classic 1966 Porsche 912 and make it all go away. I had my wife take this picture to punish myself when things get real down (not that they are by any means, I just miss my damn car). So here’s the happy bastard and my baby. I hate Missouri. Not that I hate Missouri per say, but the fact that I can’t buy another Porsche due to having to pay property tax on cars EVERY YEAR!? Fucking ridiculous.

slant32.com will soon have a number to notable updates to the portfolio section – watch for those. My latest Halloween effort has been posted.

And not to combine posts too much, but I recently finished my first U6 soccer season coaching my son’s team. What a great experience. Parents actually LET you scream at their kids – who knew? And they want me back for the Spring? Crazy shit my people, crazy shit indeed.

I have a number of articles to post in regard to finance, design, usability, but damn if I don’t miss my Porsche. Soon my masses, soon.