Geoffrey Blog

GUY CODE

2008-03-02T21:20:00Z

Guy code. It is a sentence unto itself. If a Picture is worth a thousand words, then it is safe to assume some sayings and phrases are worth equally as much. Guy Code is one such example.

Guy Code is what it is. IT has gone through many names over the years, yet the “CODE” always remains the same. Bud Light called it “Man Law”. The Frats say “Bro’s before Ho’s”. Al Bundy from the 90’s TV show “Married with Children”, had “NO MA’AM” = The National Organization of Men Against Amazonian Masterhood. Bundy and the boys just wanted to watch Football 18 weeks a year on a small TV out in a Hot Garage without women there to ruin it! We could go on, but at this point I think you get where this is going. Since the times of animal carvings on cave walls – guys have had a code.So why am I writing about Guy Code today? Well even though it is widely believed that Guy Code is embedded in our genetic make up. On occasion, even the manliest of men, forget and grossly violate – Guy Code. For this reason, we have a check and balances system.

What is that system? Another guys look you square in the eye and proclaims – “Dude?!?!”

Side Note – If the phrase “Guy Code” is worth a thousand words…
Then the proper utterance of the word; DUDE?!?! Is worth a Globzillion
(Globzillion is a whole lot).

Now, if you have ever found yourself blindsided by a – “DUDE?!?!” It is because you were violating Guy Code, and one of the brotherhood was there to make things right again. Another thing of note, if you are a Guy reading this you, understand what I am saying and probably have a handful of stories (all of them about violators of course). However, if you are a Gal and you are reading this, I can only imagine you’re pissed because I haven’t stopped to define the intricacies of the Guy Code yet. Well get over it – I can’t.

That’s right, Guy Code, cannot and should not be written. While we recognize it as one of the most high and sacred ways to live our life, once it is written it becomes a set of “Rules” and studying and following “Rules” is in and of itself a very violation of Guy Code.Example; Bud Lights “Man Law”. One of the producers accidently called it “Guy Code” while discussing the great success the campaign was having. The next day filming of the commercials stopped, the ads were pulled and never seen again. They were funny and doing well for Bud Light, until someone messed up and crossed the line.

I will share some of the things that help make up the Guy Code. Things that as men, we take for granted. Items that women might be surprised to know guys do, because of the CODE.

Urinal Buffer. When you enter a men’s restroom and see the standard “3” urinals on the wall – the first guy takes the Urinal opposite “the Mini-Urinal”. The second guy in, DOESNOT take the very next urinal next to the first guy. Even though it is the last normal height Urinal – he leaves the mandatory “Buffer” and uses the “Mini-Urinal”. The third guy in, DOES NOT take the last remaining Urina, which is now designated as a “Buffer” - he grabs one of the stalls. In the event the stalls are full – he takes the sink closest to the wall. Guy Code.

Theater Buffer. Same concept as Urinal Buffer – however, Small children and women may fill the buffer between two guys in a movie Theater. Another dude may never fill the Theatre Buffer between two guys…Ever.

Guys Night. Could be a movie, UFC or Boxing PPV, or rented video games. Everyone brings cash, no checks, to help cover the cost. Don’t invite the goofy dude from work that talks too much. And be careful, there is always one “Recently Single Guy” in the group who finds a way to bring his new Hot girlfriend to show off. This is a huge VIOLATION. While we appreciate the eye candy, for a minute, she gets old – FAST. Every guy quickly learns you gotta keep an eye on “Recently Single Guy” or “RSG” – FACT: Next to “Socially Akward” guy, “RSG” is the most prone to violate.

"RSG"'s have a thousand excuses and justifications, you gotta be ready at all times to grab “RSG” by the shoulders, look him Square in the eyes and hit him with a – “DUDE?!?!”

We have barely scratched the surface, but in fear of having my “Man Card” pulled and being hit with a slew of “DUDE?!?!”’s next time I walk down the street. I will leave you with this thought.Guy Code is what it is. Ladies – Leave it alone. Fella’s don’t neglect it, don’t fight it, just respect it. And remember to attend your meetings - One Saturday a Month for 5 or 6 hours. That’s all the Code asks for… Dude.

TRUCK -

The T in T-Mobile may stand for TARD!

2007-07-31T21:41:00Z

Two and a half weeks ago I went down to the T-Mobile store with a co-worker. While there, we bought him a shiny new phone and started the paper work to transfer his phone to our account. Since his current phone number belonged to another company (which he owns), this transfer of numbers cannot be completed in the store. No problem you say, call the 800 number... NOPE. The transfer of phone numbers between two companies on T-Mobile accounts can only be done by fax. Yes... fax. T-Mobile's business care department is stuck in the 80's - Rat tails and all.

So I take my paperwork back from the store and fax it off to 1983. I wait two days and call the 800 number. They say, "fax it again. we can't contact them". I asked if I could send in my request via carrier pigeon but the angry, gum chewing lady on the end of the line didn't seem like that would be an option. So, I sent my second fax. Then I waited two more days and called the 800 number yet again. Shockingly, they said, "fax it again". So I did. A few days go by and the number still hasn't been transferred. Instead of calling, I just re-fax. This time however, I tried baiting them with some Duran Duran lyrics on the cover page, but alas, no luck.

It’s now Friday of last week. I called and asked to speak to a supervisor. I didn't get the old call center "I don't have a boss" routine, but pretty close. This time I was told that all the other reps and the store clerks were all wrong and that I needed to contact my T-Mobile sales rep. After finding out who my rep was they gave me his number and SWORE to me, he would solve all my problems. I then muttered something about a Delorian and a crazy scientist, but since English was obviously this person’s second language, my dig was lost in translation.

I have since called and left two (or maybe three - I tend to black out during fits of uncontrollable rage, so I'm not exactly sure of the total) voicemails for him. He never called back. I also tried emailing him, but they both bounced. So figuring he doesn't work there anymore, I searched the Internet for good 80s jokes and tried the 800 number one last time.

The rep today told me that the business care department did in fact receive one of my faxes, but only half of the page printed. No idea what happened to the other two faxes. His advice? You guessed it, RE-FAX!!!

So today, I pegged my pants, put on a pair of those giant Oakley’s (you know the ones) and began an all day fax campaign. First I typed an angry cover letter. Then I faxed the same three pages to them six times from three different fax machines. I figured six faxes should be enough to get my point across. Well, its been four hours and they have not yet called (as I asked, nay begged them to do on my cover sheet). That said, I am off to send 6 more faxes.

Wish me luck!

Summer of Fun 1995 - Part 1... "I do this all the time..."

2007-07-30T23:30:00Z

The asphalt was still warm, and wet. It hadn’t really rained, just a constant sprinkle. Enough to cool the Arizona asphalt a little and of course to make it slick. As I pick myself up off the ground, I don’t remember it being this dark. I also realize I am a lot further in the street then I thought I was. Just then everything lights up and I hear some one call out, “hey are you alright?”. The seconds are going by like minutes as it feels like everything is still moving in slow motion. Without even thinking I just blurt out, “Yeah, I’m fine. I do this all the time.” OK great answer Geoff, but you do WHAT all the time, what the heck happened? “Your other Sandal is back here.” I look in the direction of the ladies voice, I can’t see faces just a silhouette, since the lights of her car are aimed right at me and blinding. “Thanks, I got it.” I reply as I look down to confirm that they really are my sandals. Yup, I am bare foot, bleeding and still a little dazed. The helpful lady gets back in her car and drives around me and the motorcycle laying 25 feet from me in the middle of the road.

Then its as if someone had reached over and flipped on the light switch connected to my brain. “I just wrecked Shane’s Motorcycle.” To Be Continued…

Summer of Fun 1995 - Part 2... Mike; Cook by Day and Mechanic by night.

2007-07-30T23:25:00Z

For Months, 16 year old Shane had been bugging his Dad Mr. H to fix Zach’s old Motorcycle. The motorcycle has been sitting broke down in front of the house for well over a year now. Left to rust and die after someone burnt up the motor by putting oil in the wrong place. Once in passing Mr. H mentioned that he should have Mike come over and take a look at the bike and see what it would take to fix it up. Then once it was running OK maybe he would give it to Shane to ride. Mike by the way, was a family friend and the Head Cook of the local “Golden Corral”, the restaurant that Mr. H owned and ran. Mike was sort of a Cook by day and a Mechanic by night.

From then on not a waking moment went by that Shane didn’t find a way to bring up what Mr. H had said about fixing the Bike. One evening, weeks later I stopped by Mr. H’s house. A home that I had lived in on and off over the last 5 years. I was coming straight from a church meeting I had been too. I was about as dressed up as I would get in those days. I had on a Light blue dress shirt and tie, tucked into my levis’ and of course I had no socks and sandals on. I passed by Mr. H, Mike and Shane as they were putting the finishing touches on putting the bike back together after a day of fixing, cleaning and replacing parts from the 250cc engine. I disappeared into the house to find some food and see what Ben was up to.

A little while later I could hear cheers coming through the front screen door as they were able to get the bike to fire up for the first time in years. Ben, Bonnie (Mrs. H), Myself and the rest of whomever was around all filed out the front door to see the culmination of what was a lot of hard work. As we stood around and remarked about how loud it sounded and how powerful that big 250cc engine was. Mike asked who was going to take it out for a test run and see how it rides. Then Mike headed into the house to clean off all the grease and get a bite to eat. We all stood around the idling bike looking at each other wondering who should take it out.

That’s when my mouth did something that was far to common. It opened up and spoke without conferring with the rest of my body, including my brain. I muttered something about having a dirt bike as a kid and I was more or less semi-pro. I did somehow fail to mention that my own illustrious bike riding career had come to an abrupt stop when I was 11. I had hit a cinder block hidden in a pile of leaves. In fact my entire motorcycle riding career was 8 days, on an 80cc dirt bike almost 10 years earlier in the summer of 1986.

To Be Continued…

Summer of Fun 1995 - Part 3... "Lurched and Wobbled"

2007-07-30T23:23:00Z

I remember it like it was yesterday, it was the summer of 1995, in my home town of Sierra Vista. Surrounded by friends on a rainy August evening I had just turned 21 years old. Surely I would be able to handle a motorcycle much better then I had when I was 11. Plus to make it worse, I had already opened my mouth and talked about how great of a rider I was. So I mounted the 250cc Kawasaki “Eliminator” – Oh how appropriate that name would seem in about 6 minutes! – And I stalled by checking the mirrors and looking at the engine like I was checking for something. That’s when the chiding began. Ben was first – “Hey Geoffrey, its been nice knowing you pal!”. Then Mr. H – “You’re not gonna wreck this bike after we fixed it are you?”. Then Bonnie – “You know we could just wait until Mike gets down cleaning up, and let him ride it.” I had had all I could take. I sat back, popped it into gear with my toe, and pulled back on the throttle. Do you know what happens when you drop it into gear AND you lay on the gas? Your back tire goes from sitting to spinning - very fast. Now add that to the fact that we were sitting in a gravel driveway. To paint you a picture, first I spit rock everywhere, then I dug a nice little hole for the back tire to fall into, then when the tire had spit out all the rocks, the back tire hit dirt, got traction and we (the bike and I) lunged forward. I panicked and tried to kick it back into neutral. But like most things when you panic – I went the wrong way and I kicked it into 2^nd gear. Thus causing us to “lurch and wobble” as Ben likes to call it when he retells this story. So the “Eliminator” and I, “Lurched and Wobbled” our way off the circular gavel driveway and onto Santa Theresa Dr. This is about the time that I started thinking about what I needed to do to quickly go down the street and come back making this the shortest “test run” in history. It was close to 7:00 by this point and light enough to see but just dark enough for me to remember seeing the street light come a few hundred feet in front of me. Little did I know that streetlight would later be etched forever in my memory as the very spot on this earth that I would step out of the darkness and silence into the light and wave of pandemoniac laughter. To Be Continued…

Summer of Fun 1995 - Part 4... Limping out of the Darkness

2007-07-30T23:20:00Z

All I really remember is “Lurching and Wobbeling” as I slowed at the end of the street. Then popping the clutch again to get going around the corner. I just seemed to be getting everything under control when I felt the handlebars vigorously jerk to the left. Then from there it gets a little hazy as I remember hearing screeching and even a loud metal-crunching thump as the bike hit the street. What I don’t remember is flying over the handlebars or skidding on my chest and face across the asphalt. But there was proof all of it happened.

After the nice lady in the car, pointed out where my sandals were and drove around me and the “Eliminator”. I walked barefoot the 25 feet back to the bike. It was in bad shape, not as bad as me, but it wasn’t ridable. I couldn’t even get it to go back into neutral. So with the clutch pulled in. I gathered my shoes and what was left of my dignity and began the long walk back around the corner and up Santa Theresa Dr.

Mr H, Mike the Mechanic and the whole family stood in the yard wondering what had happened since the sound of the 250cc engine had abruptly disappeared. I slowly and painfully limped my way back up the sidewalk. After a few minutes of wondering if they should come look for me or not, I limped out of the darkness into the light of the before mentioned streetlamp. There was a brief moment of silence as everyone looked at me as if I were ghost. Then as quickly as I had been thrown over the handlebars of my 2^nd motorcycle in 10 years. The silence was broken by the absolutely thunderous laughter. Still not completely in my right mind, I had only put one sandal on and was carrying the other. My tie was in tact, but my shirt was ripped straight across the middle from left to right. Blood was running down my chin, arms and both knees. Bonnie being the sweetheart she is rushed me into the house to help me clean the dirt and rocks out of my “Road Rash”. While Mr. H, Mike the mechanic and Shane got back to work fixing my handy work.

As I write this, it is the middle of Summer 2007. I am happy to say that this is my 12^th summer in a row NOT flying over the handlebars. Before this my record was only 11 years and that was my first 11 years of life. Here is too another 11 years of NOT flying over the handlebars of a motorcycle!

Geoffrey “Lurch and Wobble” Pierce -

Old Man Cinder Blocks- Part 1... Out of the Crash a Nickname is Born!

2007-07-30T18:38:00Z

As I started to push myself up off of the ground. I realized that I couldn’t hear the 95+ decibel screech of my Hondas 4 stroke engine. I looked around to try and figure out where I was and what happened. Laying 20 feet from me was a 6 year old dirt bike with a bent wheel and a bent front fork. There were some scattered leaves, but no where near as many as you would imagine with the speed and the momentum I should have hit that pile with. I numbly stood up and limped over to the pile of leaves that was still largely in tact.

There I discovered, buried in the middle of the leaves two perfectly placed grey cinder blocks.

This neighbor was not the friend I had decided in my mind he was. He had not raked a fresh pile of leaves to add to the old just for me to destroy on a much grander scale. As everything started to become clear to me, I realized just how much pain I was in from head to toe. My chin, hands and arms were all scrapped up and bleeding. My shirt was ripped, I was covered in dirt and somehow I had twisted my ankle. I didn’t know whether to be mad, or scared of what else this old man was going to do to me. However, before I could give it too much thought. I looked up and saw him standing in his kitchen watching me from his back window. He didn’t come out and I didn’t stick around. I retrieved my bike and was able to tell it wasn’t taking me anywhere with a bent fork and wheel.

Even though I could look across the wash and see my yard from there, I couldn't cross the deep sand dragging my Honda. I had to limp down the alley pushing my dirt bike to the nearest street so I could cross the wash for the last time with my Honda XL80. It seemed to take forever.

Pushing a bike with a bad wheel is a lot like dragging a child that doesn’t want to go where you are trying to take it. I had officially broken one of my Dads rules. Rule #2 - "Take it easy until I get you a helmet." I knew that was all my Mom would need to put the kybosh on my summer fun. Not to mention that it would be almost 4 years before my dad ever fixed the bike and handed it down to my younger brother. By then I was almost 16 and well over the threshold of what the Honda could handle weight wise.

I didn’t get a helmet for my Birthday that year, but my neighbor did get a new nickname.

I never talked to him, but to this day I still talk ABOUT him - “Old Man Cinder Blocks”.

(Want to know how this happened read BLOGS "Old Man Cinder Blocks" 2-4 for the events that lead up to this...)

(to Be Continued in Part 2... The Begining, 80cc's of Fun)

Old Man Cinder Blocks - Part 2... The begining, 80cc's of Fun

2007-07-30T18:34:00Z

I was born and raised in the mid 70’s, in a little town called Sierra Vista. I started school in 79-80 and did exceptionally well for the first 5 grades. My grades were great and I really did excel. In 6^th grade, which was the last year you were in elementary school, I started off at about average. I wasn’t failing by any means, but I was a pretty consistent “C” average in every subject across the board. By Winter break, end of the first semester, my parents were concerned. My Mom and Dad had divorced about 5 years earlier and lived on opposite ends of town from each other. Being a small town that was less then 5 miles apart.

One weekend while visiting my Dad all the way across town, he mentioned to me my grades and how he and my Mom were concerned. Then he decided to make me a deal – one that I didn’t see coming and NO 11 year old boy could turn down. My Dad offered to buy me a dirt bike and let me stay with him ALL summer, riding that dirt bike everyday – IF I could end the year with a “B” average. He explained in order to do so I would have to have an “A” in every subject (except one P.E. where I had a B, so I would need to maintain it)

It may be the only time in History that a long –term bribe like this actually worked. To make a long story, short. Two things happened over then next 4 months.

I never shut up about “My Dirt Bike”
and
I got Straight “A’s” in every subject including P.E.

My Dad held up to his word and on the last day of school I climbed onto the bus that took me about 4 miles across town to my Dads house. When I got off the bus I ran full speed from the Bus stop to my Dads house which was almost a full 50 yards away. Yeah I know running 50 yards doesn’t seem note worthy but remember I was a fat kid. If I wasn’t breathing so heavy, I probably would have heard a lot of laughs coming from behind me. When I got to my dads carport, there it was sitting in the driveway, propped up against our little brick house. A 1980 Honda XL80 4-stroke Dirt Bike (the year was 1986, so it wasn’t brand new as I had dreamed about, but I quickly decided that didnt matter to me.)

My dad gave me the 3 minute training lesson which included, don’t ride it in the street, take it easy until I can get you a helmet (something he would never end up buying) and that tank of gas should last you all summer. (The tank held 5 litres or 1.3 gallons of gas – no way should that be enough for a whole summer.)

This was back in the day when houses didn’t back up to one another. You could walk out your back fence into an alley which was large enough for the garbage truck to drive up and down collecting everyones trash. My dads house was ideal because it had a large alley then a huge wash and then another large alley on the other side then a row a houses. From my dads fence across the wash to the next neighbors fence was probably 50 yards across.

Plenty of room for a fat kid and his XL80 Dirt Bike.

(To be continued in Part 3... )

Old Man Cinder Blocks - Part 3... The Alley, later to be known as the scene of the accident.

2007-07-30T18:30:00Z

I would ride up and down that alley for hours, back and forth – back and forth. Then as I was riding past my house, I saw one of our neighbors raking a large pile of leaves from his back yard into the alley across the wash. I envisioned me laying on the gas tearing down the alley and through his pile blowing leaves everywhere. I made a few impatient passes on my side of the Alley just waiting for him to finish his yard work and head into the safety of his home.

Finally after what seemed like forever riding back in forth in anticipation under the sweltering Arizona sun. He was gone and his pile of leaves were calling to me! I tore down the Alley as fast as I could on my Honda XL80 – I crossed the wash at the first available street, and I began my journey back down the far side of the Alley with my sites set on a 2 foot tall pile of freshly raked leaves. When I hit that pile I was going as fast as that little bike would take me. It was better then I ever imagined it could be, the leaves went everywhere! I wish I could have slowed down and admired my handy work, but I heard someone yell just moments after destroying the pile. I stayed on the gas and just kept going.

I decided it was time to break my Dads firts rule and instead of riding back down the alley to my house. When I got to the street that crossed the wash, I rode up the side walk along the front of the houses to my house, completely avoiding the neighbor and his destroyed leaf pile.

The next day I was out riding again when I noticed the pile had been fixed. I tentatively looked for any sign of movement. There was no one in sight, I made a couple passes around the leaves to see if my neighbor was waiting to jump out and get me, but he was no where to be found. I decided I would hit the pile again, it was just too much temptation. But like the day before, I decided I would make it my last hoorah of the day. So after another hour or so of riding I came back and in a blaze of glory, I destroyed the pile again. It was as awesome as I hoped it would be.

This became my daily routine for the next several days. Everyday scoping out the scene, confirming that the coast is clear and then on my way home as I was done riding for the day, I would obliterate the freshly raked pile of leaves. Everytime laying on the gas as hard as I could and with as much momentum as possible. The sight and sound of an 11 year old fat kid on a 80cc 4-stroke bike plowing through this pile of leaves is truly indescribable, it was in a word – AWESOME!

When I received the bike I was given some basic rules. I was told by my Mom, who was not happy about me getting a dirt bike, that if I didn’t follow the rules. I would lose my Dirt Bike privileges. So when my Mom asked how I was enjoying my Bike and if I was following the rules - I honestly told her yes. She didn’t have to know that my Dad had handed down some very vague rules.   Or that they were left open to interpretation by an 11 year old.

1. Don’t ride in the street – Check – I thought I might need to break this rule and I was willing too. The first time I destroyed the leaf pile. However, on a technicality I was able to take the side walk all the way home.

2. Take it easy until I can get you a Helmet – Check – I hadn’t crashed once, which in my 11 year old mine WAS taking it easy.

3. This tank of Gas should last you all summer. – Check – So far 1 week in and I was still on the first tank of gas.

The Summer of 1986 was panning out to be the greatest summer of all time. After 5 straight days of dirt bike riding and "LPA - Leaf Pile Annihilation", I spent the weekend at my Moms house itching to get back to my Dads house, or better yet my Dirt Bike. Sunday night my Dad picked me up and back to his house we went. Monday morning with a belly full of Cap’n Crunch and need for speed. I headed out to the back yard to retrieve the best friend any boy could have. I was only a couple weeks away from celebrating my 12^th birthday. Which is when I think my Dad was planning on getting my that helmet. You know how parents can be always trying to kill 2 birds with one stone. He would provide me with safety as well as call it a present all in one.

Now that I am a parent, I can relate.

(To be concluded in Part 4... The Greatest Pile of Leaves Known to Man!)

Old Man Cinder Blocks - PART 4... The Greatest Pile of Leaves Known to Man!

2007-07-30T18:27:00Z

I climbed aboard my “Hog” and set out to ride! Obviously, I had one thing specifically in mind. The leaf pile. I hoped it would be there. I never did quite understand why he raked those leaves out of his yard and into the alley. It wasn’t like the Garbage truck would pick them up that way. And if he was doing it so they would just blow away down the alley and into the wash, then why would he rake them again everyday after I destroyed his pile?

All these unanswered questions that would stay that way, because as I was pondering the reasons why. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen came into my view. The largest pile of leaves known to man, sat dead center of the alley, straddling the ruts made by the large garbage trucks. It was as if this neighbor was my friend, and he had situated everything perfectly for me so I could get the maximum amount of enjoyment out of it. Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe he would sit in his house and wait until he heard the piercing sound of my bike racing down the alley. Then he would come to his back window and watch in amazement as I blew through his pile like a 30 mile an hour charging Rhino.

This was way too much temptation for me to take. I couldn’t wait until the end of my riding session. This pile of leaves was calling me and I was a boy on a mission. As I rode by on the far side of the alley in preparation to cross the wash at the street and come back down on the pile’s side of the alley. I surveyed the area. There was no neighbor in site, and I guessed the pile might be 3 feet tall and twice as wide as usual, he must have raked a fresh pile leaves to add on top of the old ones. This was going to be – AWESOME!

I came to where the street crosses the wash and I crossed to the far side of the Alley. I was now by my best guess 250 – 300 yards from the pile of leaves. I couldn’t see it but I knew right where it was. I hit the gas, stood up on my foot pegs and leaned forward. I was going to get every ounce of speed, power and momentum I could out of this Honda. The strip of grass and rocks that grew between the ruts made by the garbage truck acted as a perfect aiming device for me. Since I knew that the pile was sitting perfectly between those ruts.

I honestly don’t know how fast a 6 year old Honda XL80 (80cc) 4 stroke dirt bike can actually go with a “Husky” 11 year old boy on it. But if you were to ask me on that day I would tell you I was doing close to 100 MPH (In reality, I might be doing a 3^rd of that).

I looked up, tears in my eyes from the wind that was whipping me in the face and I could see the pile. I was now seconds away from impact as I began my war cry!

“WAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOO ***BAM***

Everything went black. Thanks to "Old Man Cinder Blocks"

The end.

Geoffrey -

The Simpsons Movie Review and Recap

2007-07-27T21:59:00Z

Hey there, I went to see "Chuck and Larry" last night with a group of friends. it was a great movie, as we came out at 11:55pm I noticed there a ton of people lined up to see the Midnight release of the Simpsons movie. I knew it was coming out this weekend but I had no idea it would have a Midnight showing. Being a huge fan, and wide awake. I decided I would jump in line on a whim and enjoy the movie with some Die-Hards. I told my friends I would see them later and I headed back into the theater. Here is my take on the Full Length (80 minutes) movie version of one of my favorite shows.

The following is a PSA (Public Service Announcement) about the Simpsons Movie. I spent $9.50 to see this sub-par super extended episode of the show we all know and love, and there is nothing I can do to change that. However, if I can save just one more person from wasting $9.50 on something you can get for free every Sunday night on Fox. Then I have done some good. The Simpsons Movie starts out with us watching an Itchy & Scratchy movie. About 3 minutes into the movie the shot pans back and we see that the Simpson family is sitting in a movie theater watching an Itchy and Scratchy movie. Homer stands up and starts booing, and proclaims “Why did we pay $9 a person to see something we can see for free on TV! (Homer then looks directly into the camera and says) “What kind of IDIOT would do something that dumb?” Yeah that’s right I’m talking to you and he points right into the camera. Little did I know how true Homers words really were. Cut back to The Simpson home were Homer is checking items off his to-do list. A game of Father and Son Truth Or Dare breaks out. Which ends with Bart skateboarding across town to Krusty Burger and back naked. Bart accepts and for the next 5 minutes we get partial blockage of Barts “junk”. Which culminates with a brief 3 second view of a very no specific looking but clear shot of a fully nude Bart penis and all. Bart gets caught, and handcuffed naked to a light post until his dad shows up hours later with clothes, a shirt and a socks no underwear no pants. They decide to eat a Krusty Burger before heading home. While eating Krusty is present and shooting a commercial with a pig in a sailor hat. When the shoot is complete Krusty calls for the pig to be killed. Homer panics and proclaims, “You can’t kill a pig that wears people clothes!” This leads us to some of the only funny parts in the movie as Homer takes the pig home and falls in love, basically neglecting his family. Homer renames the pig and gives him a theme song that correlates, of course starting with – “Spider Pig”, and ending with “Harry Plopper”. Homer constructs a large “Pig Crap Silo” which is overflowing within 2 days, when Marge asks how that’s possible, Homer admits to helping. Marge insists that Homer get rid of the Silo immediately. Homer decides to do the right thing and dispose of it properly at the Landfill, since the lake (where Homer likes to dump stuff) has been marked off limits. However the line to the dump is too long, and his schedule suddenly changed when Lenny calls him to tell him the Health Inspector has shut down the doughnut shop for health violations and Homer needs to hurry over before all the free donuts are gone. Homer makes the only choice he can make and heads straight to the lake to dump his pig crap silo.

OK time to turn this recap in overdrive… Lake gets contaminated, President Schawarzeneggar claims Springfield a hazard to the rest of us, a large dome is put over the town. Homer blamed for it, town gathers to hang the family. Family escapes through a sink hole in the backyard that leads to just outside the dome. Homer moves family to Alaska. Family is happy until they see on the news Springfield is going to be blown up and everyone killed. Homer doesn’t care its not his problem. He heads to “Eski – Moe’s Tavern” Marge packs up the family and heads back to help her old town and neighbors. Homer comes home finds the family gone and goes after them. Town gets saved, Homer is forgiven, Simpson life goes right back to normal, ready for the next episode.

A couple things of note. It feels like at some point everyone uses the Lords name in Vain, something they aren’t allowed to do on TV coupled with the shot of Barts penis. That and the fact I wasn’t in the comfort of my own home was the only way I could tell I was watching a movie and not the newest episode on TV.

As a Movie I give this a 6 on a scale of 1 – 10 / But as a true fan of the Simpsons this was well written with some good laughs. Compared to what we have seen on TV for the last 17 years I would give it a 8.5 on a scale of 1 -10 if you are watching it in the comfort of your own home on DVD of course!

Geoffrey -

Not Cool Yet...

2007-07-24T03:35:00Z

Hey there! You have just come across a site that you are going to want to add to your favorites right now. Now I know what you are thinking, "Why in the Sam Hill, would I want to come back here ever again?" I will tell why, you have just stumbeled on to a website that I like to call "a Diamond in the "Ruff". I'll explain...

When I was about 10, my moms diamond popped out of her ring, while pouring food into my dogs bowl. Long story short, I watched my parents dig through several nuggets of dog poo to find her digested diamond.

Well the dog poo in this story is the internet, and the diamond... Thats www.ahbleep.com.

Look friend you have been digging through "Poo" online for years, because you knew somewhere between the alpo, table scraps and teddy bear stuffing... There was something precious to be found. Wait wait wait... did I just use the word "Precious"... OK You get a Free Shot next time you see me!

My point is, it takes time to make something great. This site has been in the works for years... Literally years. Now it is so close you can hear the distant sound of laughter. While I agree this site is not cool yet... It will be phenominal very, very soon.

http://www.ahbleep.com

Geoffrey -

Aim for the Drain... And don't act like you haven't done it!

2007-07-24T02:58:00Z

My First Blog... (05/25/07)
Category: Life

Yeah so I'm not on -"The Myspace" much. I guess I'm getting older, because it doesn't really do anything for me. However, I do grasp the concept and see how it could be kinda cool. Anyway, I got a little down time right now so I thought I would mess around with this "BLOGGING" thing. I know there are some rules with "BLOGGING" that you sould keep like; Shorter is better, always talk in stories, dont be afraid to exagerate a little to spice it up, and misspelled words are a must. I'm pretty sure I can do all of that!

So here is one that is short and sweet... I was up late last night, hanging out with Dave (who is living with me right now, while my wife and kids are in Kansas for a month.) He and I were eating a little Late Night "Wendy's" and watching the new episode of Ultimate Fighter 5, you know the one with "The most technical street fight ever".

Anyway, it was well after 2, just shy of 3am when I dragged my old tired behind to bed. What seemed like only 3 minutes had passed when my alarm went off. Seems I forgot I had a promised to call one of my clients BEFORE he left for work today - which meant I needed to be up and in my office (convieniently located 20 yards away from my bedroom.) before 8am.

It was only 7:20 - However, I knew the danger of playing the "Snooze" button game. So I forced myself to go take a shower in hopes that I would sound "some-what" awake as I was telling my client he needed to lower the price on his home or be prepared to live there for another 6 months.

Ok maybe this stroy is not THAT short. You made it this far, dont stop reading now. Seriously don't stop this is the good part. So I'm standing in the shower, half awake, sorta swaying back and forth, when I realize that I need to pee really bad. Being a man that beleives in multi-tasking and is lazy. I decided to "Aim for the Drain" - Don't judge me we have ALL done it! - Where was I?

So I'm half asleep and I'm peeing, when I realize all this "swaying" is causing me to get my own feet in the line of fire. So I do what any grown man does, I riase my right arm to lean against the shower wall for support...

BAM! I am on my back and still peeing. Apparently to the right of me was the shower door, not the shower wall. AND for some reason that little 1 inch magnet that is used to keep the shower door shut - was not able to support my full weight... Go Figure. The moral of this story is... Well there is no moral. I have a huge bruise on my right leg, I peed on myself and I was VERY awake for that 8am call.

LATER,

Geoffrey -

Book Review: DISHWASHER; One Man's Quest to Wash Dishes in All Fifty States.

2007-07-23T05:04:00Z

PART ONE – How I got this Book and why I read it…

If you know me, you know that I do not read fantasy, science fiction, fiction etc... If I want to suspend my disbelief and enjoy a good story, I want it on a more basic or should I say “lazy” level. Meaning, I watch a lot of TV and a good amount of movies. Those more then fulfill my need for the precious “escapism” that “Fantasy” and “Fiction” readers love to drone on about.

Now don’t get me wrong I love to read. However, all the books I read fall into one of two categories;

1.) Biographies

2.) Motivational / Information based / training.

Or in simpler terms -Give me a good book about a person with an interesting story or teach me something. Knowing this about me, my friend Rusty, bought me this book. “DISHWASHER; One Mans Quest To Wash Dishes In All Fifty States.”

Rusty had heard the author (Pete Jordan) doing a short radio interview on NPR. He was intrigued by the concept, and wanted to know more. However, Rusty is very self-aware. He knew that he wasn’t going to spend $12 on a book, especially one he knew he would never read. He is a “Book On Tape” kind of guy. Rusty did However come up with a plan to “kill 2 Birds with one stone” – He would buy the Book for me, I would read it and then give him a full report. He could extract all the info - with little to no effort. However, there was still the part about him shelling out $12 bucks for a book ($9.99 + tax). Lucky for him he heard this interview a couple days before he was scheduled to come to my house for a birthday BBQ - in honor of my 33rd year on this earth. So a quick trip to the bookstore and his plan was in motion. He bought a book he wanted to know more about, he wrapped it up as gift to me. Then sat back and waited for me to read it, and report back all the info to him. The paragraphs that follow are the culmination of Rusty’s genius plan.

PART TWO – About the Book…

OK Here's the deal: Pete's just a guy from San Francisco, born in the 70’s, raised as 1 of 7 kids by poor immigrant parents from Scotland. In 5^th grade Pete wrote an essay about how he wanted to grow up and be a house painter. When asked why he wanted to be a house painter. Pete tells the story of how he would watch a painter from his apartment window who sat all day with a paint brush in one hand and a sandwich in the other listening to the radio. No teachers, no parents, no boss in his ear telling him where to go or what to do. Several years later Pete dropped out of college, because he didn’t want to take out a 2^nd student loan, when he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. To make ends meet he got a series of dishwashing jobs to pay the rent and repay his student loan. Thats when he came up with a harebrained quest to wash dishes in all 50 states (I beleive he was about 4 states in at this point). His first book, Dishwasher, is the story of how he spent the next 10 years of his life in pursuit of that goal.

Dishwasher Pete lived his life by some very simply rules;

1.) Everything he owned had to fit in one bag. So when it was time to go, it was quick and painless. (a rule he broke when he finally bought a van for a few hundred bucks)
2.) Never take a job that requires a uniform of any kind. (a rule he broke when he found a job that came with a cool jumpsuit)
3.) Never take a job that he couldn’t drop everything and walk away from when the mood hit him to do so. (a rule he broke when he took a job on boat, and an oil rig and even in a very remote part of Alaska.)
4.) Don’t ever let rules get in the way of a dish job you really want! ( the only rule he actually kept.)

Along the way, he became an extraordinarily skilled dishwasher (sort of), made friends all over the country, published 15 issues of a "Zine" (a small independent magazine – Pete’s first taste of writing), he made a number of appearances on NPR's This American Life (after the quest was done,but before the book was out).

Pete devoted a great deal of time to studying the culture and history of modern dishwashing (the book is filled with quotes from famous people who held dishwashing jobs in their formative years, as well as references to dishwashing charcters from movies). Pete even got asked to be on The David Letterman show in 1996 (He hung out in the greenroom and ate free food, while his friend went out and acted like he was Dishwasher Pete). He also became something of a modern folk hero, an inspiration to and advocate for oppressed dishwashers everywhere.

That said, Dishwasher Pete was about the worst employee imaginable. Sure, he was strong, efficient and organized, but, by his own admission, he stole from employers, slept on the clock, quit jobs after a few days or even hours without giving notice and otherwise embodied what Dish Washer Pete calls “Plongeur Morality” (Plonguer is the French name for dishwashers). In short, Dishwasher Pete was a lazy flake, but a likable one.

Dishwasher is not a polished memoir. The writing, though often humorous and sometimes insightful, is not that of a professional. Jordan calls himself "a dishwasher who happens to write," and his cheerful, unpretentious story telling reflects that. What the book lacks in grace it makes up for with passion. But mostly, Dishwasher is the story of almost 12 fascinating years in the life of a man obsessed—which always makes for a great read!

Geoffrey -

How to lose 2 and Half Bones in 44days.com

2007-07-13T03:30:00Z

I never know how to start these things, and by "things", I mean stories / blog entries. So we should find a painless way to just jump right in, like I will say; "Funny thing happened to me recently..." or "Speaking of Mad Cows Disease, my wife thinks I weigh 450 lbs..." I don't know. If you have idea please let me know, I would love to hear it. - geoff@cox.net

Speaking of things I would love to hear... Here is a funny story that happened to me on my Birthday (07/03). Well before I tell you what happened on July 3rd, let me take you back to mid April. I was RE-buying the domain name www.ahbleep.com. The domain seller (Go daddy) was offering $1.99 domains with the purchase of a full price domain. So I decided to root around and see if there were any other addresses I was interested in. I was just doing random searches of things I could use for my business (Gateway Realty) or for my personal use. I decided to try some old addresses I had once had and let lapse. One of those was www.44days.com that was actually the first domain I ever owned. It use to take you to my real estate website where one of the programs I offered was if I didn't sell your home in 44 days or less then I would sell it for free. There are hundreds of those today, but this was back in 2002, even then there were still several people doing it.

***Just a heads up, I have been Real Estate 8 years, if something sounds to good to be true... it usually is.***

Now a days you will see Agents and Teams offering to sell your home for as little as "27 Days or free". What they will not discuss with you until they have sat down at your kitchen table OR dragged you into their office, is that there is a laundry list of hoops you have to jump through to qualify for this program, and better yet this program will also cost you 1.5 - 3 % more then what anyone else will charge for the same marketing. Some of these hoops include; You paying for an inspection up front ($250 - $400 out of pocket), you paying for an appraisal up front ($300 - $500 out of pocket) you listing your house at or within 1% of THEIR appraisal. You must fix ALL items that come up on the Home Inspection, at your cost and before the 27 days begins of course. You must agree to accept any offer that comes in during those 27 days that is within 5% of the asking price. That is just to name a few. I really didn't sit down to BLOG about "deceitful" or "misleading" real estate marketing companies. I wanted to tell you a funny story about something happened to me this week. So I will finish with this. Here in America, your home is one of, if not THE biggest financial investment you will make. Why would anyone use a company or agent that has to rely on misleading marketing ploys and gimmicky snake oil sales man tactics? These are the very people we avoid when buying cars, or getting Insurance, yet when it comes to home sales too many people still get sucked in, and then have an absolutely terrible experience. Next time you go to buy or sell a home, get a referral from a friend or family member, and ask them who they recommend to use and NOT to use.
Always get a referral - USE A PROFESSIONAL WHO COMES RECCOMENDED BY SOMEONE YOU TRUST!!!

OK back to my story - So just for fun and because I thought I might find a way to use it for Real Estate again, I bought www.44days.com. I had it all of 2003 & 2004. But by time renewal came around in 2005, I was in a job where my focus was more on recruiting, coaching and training agents. I wasn't using the website ans so I let it lapse. About half way through 2005 a friend of mine who was also a REALTOR, called me and asked what the heck was going on with my website. I told him I didn't have a website anymore, I was doing other things now. He STRONGLY encouraged me to go to my old Real Estate website, www.44days.com. I did, and I regretted not asking him why before dong so. It had been purchased some time after I let it go and was now a Gay Porn Website. The very front page was GRAPHIC - and I was horrified. I sat and wondered how many of my past clients had gone there to try and find my new email address or phone number, or maybe just see what was new with my business... Only to be greeted with these less then pleasant images.So when I saw that in 2007 it had been vacated again, part of me was relieved and even glad to shell out the $1.99 just to keep it from falling into the wrong hands again.Now that was Mid April when I bought it. About 5 or 6 weeks later at the end of May, I got a very short and unsolicited email from someone out in California. All the email said was;
"I would be interested in buying 44days.com, please email me back if you would be willing to sell it."

I thought that was weird, but my curiosity was piqued so I replied immediately saying,
"That I had just bought it and was not even sure how I was going to use it yet. But that it was going to be Real Estate related whatever it was. How much did they wish to buy it for? And what did they plan to use it for?" - That’s really not my business, but I wasn't selling it to pornographer again. No Way!

Well there was no response, at all. So I forgot about it. 5 or 6 weeks later I get a response to my email. It simply said;
"I wanted to start a Web Log and I didn't want to spend more then $500 total to do it."

I responded immediately (I say immediately because I was at my computer both times these emails came in.) WAIT WAIT WAIT... Before I tell you WHAT I said in my email. Let me explain my thought process at this point. There was 6 weeks between these two one sentenced emails. The person didn't care enough to even follow up in a timely manner, what reason would I have to believe that they would go through all the effort to send me 500 pesos much less $500?!?! I didn't buy it for a second. So I decided to "Smoke'em out" - give them an offer that would make them "Put up or Shut Up"! My response was this...
"If you are serious, I will sell you www.44days.com for $250 - leaving $250 to invest in the building of your new website. Send it to my paypal account at..."

That’s it one sentence telling them to put their money where their email is!

Well within 10 minutes (maybe less) I had $250 sitting in my paypal account. Me, my wife and my step-father (JOE) all of whom were sitting together at my laptop. We were absolutely stunned. I had been called out. This one sentence-writing email dude from Cali just dropped "2 and half bones" in my lap. I never once stopped to consider whether I really wanted to sell 44days.com or not. Now was a bad time to start contemplating it. So I jumped on the phone with Go daddy and got specific instructions on what to do. 15 minutes later he or she (the person’s first name is Noam - I don't know what gender that is and didn't ask) was the proud new owner of www.44days.com.

If it really is going to be a BLOGGING website, I vow to be one of the first on it. So I check it every couple of days.So far most people I talk to are more impressed with the fact that I sold a two dollar item for $250 bucks. However, there is the occasional "Big Talker" who acts like they would have gotten $600 or $700 dollars out of old Noam. Then again if there is one thing Real Estate has taught me it’s this - the greedy always lose out on the best deals, they always try to ask for too much and regret it later.

You will never hear me complain about turning a 1,250% profit.

Geoffrey -