Shipra N Molly Visit

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TODAYS BLOG LESSON: Always proof-read carefully to see if you any words out.

I had a dream that I was an inventor. I made a fancy metallic box that you could hear tiny parts shake when you picked it up, but I couldn't remember what it does? The story continued and the plot unfolded with the main characters overcoming adversity and finding true love. Then after the climax, when the villain was defeated and they lived happily ever after, the main character came up to me and said, "So what does that box really do?" I shrugged my shoulder. The leading lady couldn't take the mystery and pressed the button. Suddenly I was transformed into a movie theater and the screen had a picture of the girl pressing the button, then a wipe dissolve that sucked us all into oblivion. Apparently, I was a movie character inventor and the button sucked the movie up to lead to the ending credits. Neat, huh?

This was a movie weekend because my little sister Sonali (Molly) Gupta and cousin Shipra Gupta came to visit. First though we needed to eat. Someone needs to tell my family that Food' alone is not the correct answer to the question what do you want to eat. Luckily Shipra Gupta got a hold of her friend who made the decision to go to the Corner Room for us. The Corner Room is a fine establishment but I find myself making funny faces at the people dinning from the College Ave Window much more often then I actually go there to eat. My friend Sean would claim I don't go there because it reminds me of my adolescent naivety. Apparently one of his friends thought I was hilarious and even tried to give me her number to meet for breakfast the next day, but I didn't pick up any of the cues and told her to give the number to Sean to call. I protest this thought though because I frequented the Corner room for all you can eat pasta the next year.

My favorite thing about the Corner Room is the etch-a-sketch's you can get while you're waiting. We had fun time drawing each other as you can see in the pics collection. Shipra Gupta apparently loves the Corner Room for its Turkey. Outside of Turkey Day, it can be hard to find quality Turkey. Shipra Gupta's friend though had the best idea. He came with free coupons for ice cream so I was immediately a fan.

After dinner, we decided to the simplest thing for fun and rent a movie. Unfortunately there is only one Princess Bride, a movie that everyone loves because it is the best. Due to this fact the arduous task of picking a movie haunted us. There must be a solution to this problem that is fun and effective. Of course it would take a genius to figure it out. I am that genius, and the answer is simple. Everyone goes around a select a movie. If two people like the same movie they can pick a filler movie to represent that movie. Then the movies battle by a coin flip and a winner is declared. Unfortunately they shot down the Weeping Camel movie but we ended with a winner.

The next day we went to Shipra Gupta's favorite restaurant, Green Bowl. All you can eat and dim sum--hehe. You'd think that since it has green in the name it'd be my favorite restaurant, and I do like it because it is create your own stir-fry, but Nicole Myers claimed she didn't like. Of course in practice when I told her to add peanut sauce to whatever she chooses, she ended up with a meal she liked. My favorite combination is peanut, spicy Thai, and spicy hot sauces. mmmm.

I know sleep is a completely inadequate substitute for caffeine, but I feel like a bicycle, two-tired. Ouch, that was a bad one. Thusly a perfect place to end.


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Anshu Gupta
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Pizza N Porn

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"All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you want to look. I fuck like you want to fuck. I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways you're not."

I haven't blogged in ages until I received the advice of a veteran journal keeper. ~Writing isn't hard; you just have to pretend you're an infinite number of monkeys.~ My problem is that I set such a fabulous standard to live up to, not even a room full of Shakespeares could compete. I feel like I can't out do myself. I can't contend with my own greatness of just a week ago. The most gruesome of thoughts is to have my level of story diminish in any way. I am a hilarious personality in person, if you add the jokes I can steal from the Internet, I become a superhero caliber unstoppable tour de force of folly. I mean my blog isn't better than sex, but sliced bread is in serious trouble.

Speaking of sex, that is what today's blog is all about. Not just sex, but sexcapades you can only find in quality Made In America porn. Ultimately, paying for porn seems odd to me though it is a billion dollar industry. The loss of ones hard earned money for pork makes it appear that you're being screwed while everybody else is getting laid. Still, a man, it's hard to knock sex. It is no coincidence that beaver and beautiful are on the same page of the dictionary. Also, some of our sheltered gal pals have never seen a porn, so I felt almost obligated to educate them, and quickly.

Thusly, Pizza and Porn night was conceived in the maniacal brains of MattyMat Shelak, James Stewart and Anthony Scardino. I think it was James Stewart who picked up the first porn on Bourbon Street during their Spring break. It was aptly named "Sin City's 'fuck me harder'"….and the legend was born!!

I don't care what people say. I think porn stars are special. A little bit of plastic, a little powder, a little bit of paint, makes a girl seem what she ain't. Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go it's a pretty good one. My liberal thoughts on people who make porn can be summed up by a famous quote attributed to Sir Elton John, "I think people should be free to engage in any sexual practices they choose; they should draw the line at goats though." As for those who condemn the industry, I always think about Simpson's creator Matt Groening who wrote, "When the authorities warn you of the dangers of having sex, there is an important lesson to be learned. Do not have sex with the authorities."

Ha-ha, funny stuff right? But think about it. How much would it take for you to be a porn star? Every man has his price. Mine is $3.95, the price of a bag of Doritos which is my crack. I know what you're probably thinking. Sure you can make a lot of money from the billion dollar porn industry but will you be happy? Money can't buy happiness, but poverty can't buy ANYTHING. Personally, I think I was desensitized by nudity as an early child because I was introduced to the art world where sex and nudity were just an expression of being and not some puritan thing of evil. Because of this, a naked body isn't really a big deal to me as much as a connection with a person and the actual tactile sensation of touching or kissing. Instead it was always just a goofy joke.

For instance, I remembered an impressionable younger me listening to a tour guide at the mattress factory museum in Pittsburgh telling me about the artist who was exhibiting that day. He left his wife and mistress for a cave and lived there for 5 months without even telling his son. The gallery thought the artist was dead, gone mad, or ran away until suddenly he returned with a few scraps of a paper, chicken scratch mostly, which represented what he wanted to show.

After a few more months in his studio, he was ready to present what I was in awe off standing in that tiny museum. It was rooms of different shapes and colors and light with random TV and erotic videos, all of which brought you a difference intense sensation of warmth, lust, or a feeling of awakening. Then at the end of the exhibit, the secret was reveled. You were actually walking through a giant uterus, each room a different section leading to the egg!

Of course this led to us saying what we'd do to portray the uterus. I said I'd make a water slide because "A vagina is kinda like one of those tube water slides... its hot and wet inside and every so often a kid shoots out". Oddly enough when I was older the same artist did a reprise of the showing at I got to see his renewed more sophisticated approach to the subject.

ANYwho, back to Pizza and Porn. The first showing of Fuck Me Harder was a limp flop. It was typical porn, left nothing up to the imagination but the plot. In fact, there was no plot whatsoever. It was just sex scene after sex scene with all the charm of a spasm of the bowel. Over viewing of this cinematic monstrosity could turn the finest Hari Krishna into a bad boy. Usually my liberal optimism can find something redeeming about anything I watch, but I was at a loss.

First of all the problems in the porn were the quality of the ladies, -these were very ugly broken down, used chicks. I'm not ripping on ugly girls in general. I mean an ugly girl once gave me directions when I was lost. And some of my friends have dated ugly chicks with good personalities. The least classy of our group would call them butter faces. Nice body, but her face... --Or just mopeds, fun until your friends catch you riding them. Anywho, the point of this tirade was to explain the women were not attractive and the men were even worse.

Next, came the music. Usually you can get a lesson in funk or contemporary jazz when listening to the background music of porn, but this first porn didn't even had that. It just had the hardcore grunts, which if you're not looking sounds like someone using a sick bag on a 747. The lightening, the props, the background were all abysmal and nobody could argue after a while. Finally we turned it off.

Oh no! We declared an emergency state and demanded a porn run. Amy Kaucher desperately IMed all of her friends saying "I NEED PORN". I can only imagine what responses she got from people the next day who had away messages. Thankfully, Amy Kaucher finally got a hold of someone who she could rendezvous with her at McDonalds with some watchable porn. Anthony Scardino went with her on the special opt and we awaited them with baited breath.

Quick: What's the speed limit of sex?
Answer: 68; at 69 you have to turn around.

Somehow in their absence we got into a conversation about size. If a girl ever tells you size matters, it's a test. Don't get hokey and say it is motion in the ocean or overcompensate by insinuating that you're hung like a horse. You'll come off insecure. The correct response is to reframe, 'You know what? I'm so glad you can admit that size maters. Big breasts are important.' Then, if you get any flack, act indignant and say "I'm not a breast man, I'm a breast person."

Anywho, I poured myself an OBD (Occasional Bitch Drink) and was chillaxing until Amy Kaucher and Anthony Scardino came back sharing a brain. Anthony Scardino didn't look like himself when he returned. I noticed the improvement immediately. Some say he's tall, dark and handsome; others say tall, and in the dark, handsome; or was it tall dark and all greasy hands? In any case, we always seem to catch Anthony Scardino in gay moments, and holding a porn is about the most hetero thing I've seem him do. I was so proud. Because of that he looked different--ha-ha.

Now the other person in the picture above is our heroin, Amy Kaucher, looking about as innocent as a nun doing press ups in a cucumber field. I quickly made her pose for the pick with the porns. Then I asked about the guy whose porn we were using, adding that I was surprised she wasn't holding it with gloves on. Lots of people were a little scared when Amy Kaucher said how much porn the guy she bored the tape had. If I were him I'd shirk that insult off and just say. "Don't tease me about my hobbies. I don't tease you about being an asshole." Then again, I think that's a great response for most situations.

As for the two porns Amy Kaucher selected, nothing could be worse than Fuck Me Harder. The first was "Barely legal 'coy cuties born to be bad'. At first I misread the label and thought it said "cow cuties, born to be bad'. I became apprehensive that we were going to be watching Amy Kaucher's home videos. Instead she came up to me and showed me the back cover inquiring if I recognized one of the girls. From the neck up, Amy Kaucher claimed one of the stars of the porn looked like Nicole Myers.

That night, I took pictures of it and sent it to a friend Charlie who I thought would appropriate the comment because one of his ex-girlfriends from high school became a stripper. The next day Charlie gave me the funniest email response. "Is Amy Kaucher foreign or something and all white girls look the same to her? As a future FBI guy, I can unequivocally say that this girl looks nothing like Nicole Myers, but to be sure you should send me a picture of her to properly compare. In any case, I can also unequivocally say this Amy Kaucher girl obviously wants a threesome with you and Nicole Myers. Please follow your instincts and send back pics"

Of course, I channeled Jerry from Seinfeld replying "I can't do the orgy. I'd have to dress different. I'd have to act different. I'd have to grow a moustache and get all kinds of robes and lotions and I'd need a new bedspread and new curtains I'd have to get thick carpeting and weirdo lighting. I'd have to get new friends. I'd have to get orgy friends. ... Naw, I'm not ready for it. "

Luckily for us, "Barely legal 'coy cuties born to be bad' was of much higher quality than fuck me harder. Inside there were several quick stories of young girls getting it on. Unfortunately there seemed to be an odd obsessive theme running through several of the stories where the girls felt obliged to urinate. "I had two things on my mind. One I needed to pee, two I needed a man"...then she'd get it on with the stable boy or the artist or whoever and Mount Vesuvius would exploded all over her face, belly, whatever. The low point of course was the one outdoor scene where you could see flies trying to get in on the action. Overall, we got the joy of laughing and mocking all of it.

The next porn was "Asian fever" which meant teasing MattyMat Shelak and Alice Ou a lot. One of the quality moments I captured on film looked like MattyMat Shelak giving birth to Alice Ou. Asian fever wasn't as hot as you'd think. It is lack of plot left us wanted more so we created it

I'm not quiet sure how the transition was made. If you asked Amy Kaucher if she'd ever do a porn she'd probably say, "Sure, I'll do that when... - oink flap oink flap - well I'll be darned!" Anthony Scardino took the initiative to cast Amy Kaucher in his first faux porn. Anthony Scardino played the role of the girl and Amy Kaucher was the guy. There were both supposed to mimic was being played on the TV.

With my paparazzi camera in hand, I became the director and quickly learned a new appreciation for the industry. It's really hard to make something look good, especially when you had the low caliber of actors. Zack and MattyMat Shelak were good guest directors showing me an angle where it actually looked like the two were getting it on if you mentally got rid of the clothes.

Overall, Anthony Scardino was Abercrombie fierce, a fabulous actor unleashed. He was playing the girl so we weren't too shocked that he could play the part well-ha-ha. Amy Kaucher on the other hand was a dismal cloud of giggles. At one point Anthony Scardino got frustrated. He pointed to the sex scene on the TV they were mimicking and said, "He's humping, you need to hump." Amy Kaucher erupted, "I'm not humping." --Soon, as in real life it was over. Amy Kaucher came too quickly.

Since it was such a success we decided to make it a tradition. Not Amy Kaucher and Anthony Scardino porn, but just getting together every week and watching a movie. From the low point of porn you'd think the movie choice couldn't get worse, but you'd be surprised. Still some greasy pizza, some great memories and greater friends mixed together.

This blog was dedicated to all you virgins, thanks for nothing. Remember, we got it easy...we ought to take it easy.


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Anshu Gupta
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Cold spring break in Annapolis

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It is spring break for the college kids now and it is still cold. Granted there have been blizzards during PSU's spring break before and there is no snow now, but I find no solace in that thought as I dream of burning my winter coat. I hate the cold. The football season is long over so I see no reason for the cold. All the kids are gone for spring break. Did I mention that I hate the cold? Yes I know, hate is a strong word. In fact I hate the word hate almost as much as I hate pessimistic haters, but today I hate cold more. In fact, I hate the cold so much I refused to eat the York Peppermint Patties my coworker offered me for free on sheer principle.

Luckily I was able to leave work early and had a fun weekend to speak of. I have just returned from Annapolis Maryland. It is the only thing to do if you find yourself down there, return (get it?? If not, try reading that line again). ANYwho, Annapolis is a trendy shopping town outlined by a pretty bay overrun with navy brats. Overall I'd call it a pompous Milwaukee, but I find myself visiting because that is where the new house of Mikeypooh Shelak resides.

Mikeypooh Shelak's place is a quality fixer-upper. I won't call him an old man for buying it yet. I think you've turned into your dad the day you put aside a thin piece of wood specifically to stir paint with. I didn't find any wood strips in site so I'll give Mikeypooh Shelak the devil's benefit of the doubt. What I did find was a big hole in the basement. Well, technically Nicole Myers found it when I chased her into it. Luckily she did not sprain anything except my chest from laughter. Why is it that when you are walking up the stairs and you get to the top you always thinks there is still one more step and you stumble? That's the only analogy I can draw to portray the look on Nicole Myers's fleeing face.

Nicole Myers and I were in a heated battle of tossing six darts at a time and trying to get them all to hit the dartboard that led to the completive atmosphere and the chase. You'd think Nicole Myers would have learned to stay away from Mikeypooh Shelak's dart. At his old place that he rented which was in walking distance of a water taxi, I threw one of Mikeypooh Shelak's darts a good 18 feet. Bull-eye, or more appropriately, Nicole Myers's ass is where it landed with a high arch giving her much time to roll out of the way.

Poor girl didn't think it was actually going to throw even though I practiced the throwing motion like a QB pump-fakes before throwing the precision bomb....and years later she's learned little, lament. It may be that her sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others who dare to play chicken with me.

So in retrospect the greatness of Mikeypooh Shelak's place is proportional to him having a Jacuzzi. I got to enjoy it with MattyMat Shelak and his friends returning from their spring break trip to New Orleans. Of course this meant Zack had to whip out his Speedos. That kid is hung like a horse. They don't hardly make 'em like him any more - but just to be on the safe side, he should be castrated anyway. Most of the lame ones preferred a quick nap to the Jacuzzi, but soon we were all hungry and headed to town for some Japanese food.

You knew the Japanese place was authentic when you saw the lucky Kitty bobble-hand waving at you. You can tell the class of the establishment when they bring you cups and fill them with a can of pop right in front of you. Oh yeah, did I mention that the coke Anthony Scardino got was a limited New Years edition can from 2 years ago. Aged bourbon he probably thought he was going to get on his spring break, but he didn't know he was going to get aged coke too. Still who are we to complain about classiness of an establishment? Surely James Stewart who was making a penis out of his napkin wasn't going fuss.

Overall the eats were okay. You know my motto: Eat drink and be merry for tomorrow you diet. Though the Japanese was nothing compared to the other place we went to for breakfast the next day, mmm eggs benedict. The only thing that could be better than that breakfast is a banana, some chocolate syrup, and thou (DISCLAIMER: Change thou to Christina Rucha if you are a guy or girl who isn't young, playful, beautiful and brave of heart.)

Anywho, the real heart-pounding excitement of the weekend lied in the windfall of fortune luck that we were graced with. We were lucky to find parking. MattyMat Shelak was lucky that I found his sunglasses on the ground on our way back. But mostly we were lucky we survived.

Mikeypooh Shelak probably enjoyed watching speed racer as a kid, but some things don't stick. He drives as well as he dances, and he dances like a rattlesnake at a square dance. Mikeypooh Shelak's driving prowess is like a dog's walking on his hinter legs. It is not done well, but you are surprised to see it done at all. Mikeypooh Shelak was defiantly more likely a reinCARnation from a horse-centered civilization where he could get a CAReer as a samurai or something, rather than a renewed soul that was once a pioneer of locomotion.

I let Mikeypooh Shelak drive my Mitsubishi Eclipse, which admittedly has a poor u-turn radius to keep you from flipping, but is no excuse for him drifting off to the side and smashing into the curb. Then to top it off he hit his own parked car when he parked in his driveway.

You should have seen the look of "I wish I was innocence" on Mikeypooh Shelak's face when he got out assessing the damage. It reminded me of that proverb, each snowflake in an avalanche pleads not guilty or of a child being caught with a match next to a burnt curtain. Of course the falling out side panel of my car was already an issue, which in retrospect was easy to fix by a professional at no cost to me. Still, it's scary when I say I'd rather give KT Shelak the keys to my car than the other two Shelaks. Maybe one day rat-cat's will be cloned with brains and trained to drive. Then I could choose the Shelak's cat Hobbs as my preferred Shelak driver.

Still we survived and had some good laughs at it. This lends to my friend's theory that God is a comedian and we are his reality TV. It is your job to amuse god with drama or laughs or he will get rid of you. What else explains the loss of so many old people? -they are so boring. On the tombstones of 96% of humans should have the epitaph, "God was bored by him."(or her). Now how or why those other 4% die I'm still debating.

Yawn...my nap made me sleepy this afternoon, how does that work?

I guess I'll bugger off and leave you with this advice for the cold.

Remember the lesson of delayed gratification as taught by Vikings before they raided the frigid Norwegian countryside. --No matter how cold you are, always remember to pillage BEFORE you burn.

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Anshu Gupta
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Weekend in the Burgh

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Most of my good friends have kept in touch so they already know what happened; as for the others, who cares? I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant so I will not apologize for my lack of blog. If this insult makes you feel down consider that the sun sinks every night - but rises again in the morning. Also look on the bright side. It is fall so you probably have more time to enjoy my blog.


During my hiatus I'd like to say I was busy pursuing some altruistic goal for the benefit of others. Truthfully, I did find out the answer to the second most important question ever asked. The answer to the first is obviously 42. The second answer is Art. "Art" is why the chicken crossed the road. It's art! -a chicken crossing the road is 'poultry in motion'. Personally, I think I deserve a prize for researching that question and finding the answer on the Internet. I'd kill for a Nobel Peace Prize, but I don't think you can get one of those in prison. Instead I turned my time to more intrinsic goals, rediscovering what I enjoy in life. Do you want to know what I came up with? Yup, triangle sandwiches taste better than square ones.

ANYwho, I'm told by an email tagline that a mouse trap placed gingerly on top of your alarm clock will prevent you from rolling over back to sleep when you hit the snooze button. Though I lack a trap, I do possess the mental fortitude to imagine it there, so instead of napping, I've gone back to blogging. Since it's been so long since I have blogged, now begins the arduous process of back journaling. Together, we'll see if my hindsight is 20-20 or if I need to spend $20 on gas plus $20 on tolls to drive to the happy ophthalmologist house of my cousins in New Jersey to get fitted for glasses.

Okay back to the events that go with the pics. This trip to Pittsburgh was a doozy.


After about 15 minutes getting lost and trying to find parking to my passenger's rage, we hit up our favorite bars in Shady Side, Kellies. Inside we met Matt Casebeer's kewl motorcycle buddy Sunny who told us his woeful tale of losing his wife after having three kids to her cousin (the cousin was adopted, but still they grew up like siblings--sick!!). We didn't drink much; instead Nicole Myers turned Dracula-ena on me, making faux wax blood wounds from the candles in our booth. Good ole Nicole Myers, all wax and no wick--hehe. Before we left I played that game in Europe. You know Europe right, when you're here you're in America, when you're there, your-a-peeing (European). Well in the bathroom I did what every red-blooded bloke has done when I flushed half way through the pee and then raced against the flush. I'm now told that there is a paper coned funnel designed for pregnant ladies that women allowed the ladies to pee standing up, so if you're a girl reading this don't judge until you try it yourself.

Late night in the burgh' that don't result in movie marathons often lead to reunions at dinners. Dinners are like wet cats, it is impossible to describe the smell, but there's something satisfying about it. This time Nicole Myers expressed her inner Da Vince child through half n half modern sculpture art. The waitress was so impressed that she gave her a whole handful of extra containers to enhance her masterpiece. Of course Matt Casebeer and I had more fun trying to knock it down.

Eventually, we ended up passing out at Sunny's pimping palace with the tennis court backyard. In the morning his 3 boys came over. Playing video games with kids is like trying to shoot pool with a rope. Yes I lost in Mortal Combat to a five year old and no I don't think any less of myself. It's just the progression of life I suppose. When I was five, I was the quarter boy at the arcade my dad half owned. Back then, I beat kids, teenagers, and adults alike on the air hockey table or the Frogger machine even though I need a stool to play. Thus is just the way of the world. If you grow up with machines, you'll do better than those who didn't. I laughter best though when that the same kid of Sunny's tried to claim his prize, hanging on Nicole Myers's leg not wanting to let it go.

But go we must. As with late night, the morning after breakfast often calls for dinners. This time we got to meet up with KT Shelak and crew at my old high school stomping grounds of McKnight Road. We ate and chatted and laugh at the nasty steak KT Shelak ordered. HA-ha, my veteran choice of French toast was yummy. I guess age does have its perks in some arenas.

After breakfast we actually went to the Wymans for eggs and I mused. Isn't it always the Matt Casebeer? I finally check out Dave Wyman and his wife Marielle Wyman's apartment for some tasty after breakfast eggs. Now they've gone off and bought a house. Where did I find responsible people like that? I thought my friends were mavericks who'd rather get speedy vehicles than a responsible house. Luckily for every Dave Wyman and slum lord Dicke, I have friends like Matt Casebeer. The main mission of this weekend was to get Matt Casebeer a motorcycle. Check out the pics and you can see my sweet ride.

Yup, I said MY new ride. Matt Casebeer that makes much more money than me in the hick town West Virginia, doesn't have the credit to get a motorcycle so I bought one for him with his money. Technically, I now have a bike and insurance but no license, neat huh? Of course, I had to walk into my house announcing I owned a motorcycle and make my brat little sister wear my helmet afterwards. My weary dad wasn't suckered in too much and quickly found out that I was just the middle man for Matt Casebeer's big boy bike.

At my place, my sister's boyfriend Steve came over. As a big brother you don't really want to over protect your sister from boys, but you want to send subtle messages. Therefore, I let Steve Warfield and Matt Casebeer play with my shocking tanks. (If you're unaware because you live in a non-technology bubble, these tanks are radio controlled which infrared guns and light detectors. If your tank gets hit, the control electrocutes you. Fun, right!!) Matt Casebeer got back at my shocking fun by trying to curl my eye lashes. It won't be a novel quote to say those devices echo back to our medieval past. Any sexist bastard who thinks women don't have guts, do not have to look at childbirth, they can just look at that contraption and gain some much deserve respect.

For dinner we went downtown, and yes they let my seventeen year old sister in a bar while we waited for a table. She's a goody-goody so she didn't order anything. Wait until she feels the abuse of PSU bars that won't look at her twice before denying her entrance, though I'm sure she won't have too hard of a time procuring liquids if that's her desire. You got to love the bars in non-state college. In state college my CEO gets carted at the bars, in downtown Pittsburgh my 17 year little sister eases in with no problem.

We chilled at the bar for a while until our table was called. They had one of those fancy devices that lights up and buzzes when you get called. When I approached my phone ran so I answered it, it was the hostess saying she was sorry she accidentally buzzed me. It was quite humorous because I was watching her talk to me on the phone and waving at her to just talk to me in person. It took her a while to figure out I was standing right there. Back to the bar for a bit went we before we finally got our real seats. The food was splendid mostly because their descriptions were amusing. Dave Wyman got a tower of frittered goodness.

Soon the weekend was over and we head back to Happy Valley. Now you know how I'm always up for trying new restaurants and take pleasure in choosing whatever I can't pronounce as my entree. Other than grapenuts, I pretty much eat anything readily served in a restaurant. Given this as my M.O., you'd probably be surprised I never went to a Crackle Barrel, but it just never happened. After seeing millions on my way to Florida I was happy to finally go. This monumental moment came as a break in Altoona on the way to State College from the burgh.


Now the only way to describe the people at the Crackle Barrel properly is to entered the digits 55378008 into a calculator and turn it upside-down. Count of non-white people->me. It was eerie like when I find a metal coat hanger in my closet. I'm not sure how it got there and I know it doesn't belong. Now to be fair, you won't hear me say that the "Crackle" barrel is a racial establishment but later when I went to Crackle Barrel for the second time, the only non-white group of people was exiled in the corner at the worst table by the kitchen. I pointed it out to Nicole Myers who laughter. Luckily I was in the bathroom when Nicole Myers got a table for two or we might have served a similar fate. We were defiantly the only interracial couple which is something that usually never occurs to me, but since its Nicole Myers's favorite whitey restaurants the jokes had to continue. As a disclaimer of course, I had no ill service due to my race except that they happened to be out of "pork rind" this time, at least that's what they told me.

To kill some time and celebrate that my car hit 44,444 miles (my lucky number being 4), we delayed getting home for a bit more to goof around at toys r us. Whatever your age the desire to make plastic dolls shag is almost impossible to resist. Nicole Myers took a liking to a scooter which I got a fun pick of. This of course flashed me back to my favorite Christmas with the Matt Casebeerbeer's where I got my friend Thang Dounge a pink scooter as a present. It was a bonus gift because the day before he got it, we went to the mall and Thang Dounge went into a tirade about his dad wanting to scoot-scoot around in the then ultra popular scooters. I ended up getting my sis one too that year. Maybe Nicole Myers might get hers next xmas--hehe. For now she just got some auntie Anne pretzels….(Homeric mmmmm) and then we went down the country road to Happy Valley.

May your life be like toilet paper--long and useful.

Your Personal Hero
THE BAbbLER
pchewy
Anshu Gupta
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Penis Monologues

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I will give a quick shout out to the person I think would most appreciate Penis Monologues, Aussie Mike. Who if he is bored is probably reading this from a LAN down under [LAN=Local Area Network].

Q: What is the speed limit of sex?
A: 68; at 69 you have to turn around.

Penis monologues were the greatest escape into fun. A spoof off the famed Vagina Monologues, this piece of theater is played once a year at PSU to my personal critical acclaim. Shame on anybody who goes through undergrad and never see it. You missed a great time. Located within walking distance is the Forum (nix the jokes about the funny thing that happened on the way...) after nine parking is free so we drove. When we arrived, we went the wrong way in the circular forum. Instead of waiting in a line that extended outside, we ended up being among the first ten to go in. SCORE!

Now the cost was as free as a flasher's wang. We got great seats in the middle and were even able to save seats for MattyMat and Alice in the packed standing-room only classroom. I got an awesome picture of Alice with a penis in the background shown above but not many other pics. Classic, right? In retrospect, both Nicole and I hookup and now MattyMat and Alice do, so somewhere it must have been a rather romantic occasion.

Memories of "No Refund Theater" came to mind but Penis Monologues were funnier on average; although, it was not quiet as funny as SAS (Short Attention Span Theater) and their skit productions or doing abridged Hamlet quicker, and quicker, in slow motion, and then backwards. In general, I like all theater, especially theatre that stimulates the man's hypothalamus. (The hypothalamus is one of the most important parts of the brain, involved in controls the "Four F's": 1. fighting; 2. fleeing; 3.feeding; and 4. mating.) Live theater better than reality TV I probably would have seen otherwise, because you can hear your friends in the soundtrack to this.

Penis monologues proved a few things. Nicole did not think she would like it but laughed her arse off. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up. This proves that I was right and she should learn to obey. Penis monologues also proved that male strip teases are more funny than sexy; luckily, it did not result in any male nudity. I think if it did James or Zach would have auditioned. There were more girls than guys in the audience. More proof of Penis Envy--haha. Finally, I learned that chastity is curable, if detected early.

Mostly though it was not about learning, but short stories and skits that were all about laughing about sexuality. I especially liked when the only girl in the cast walks by half way though and said, "I like oral sex." Audience reaction was quintessential to the fun. This one skit centered on how hard it was to urinate after sex. This caused the actor to tell a tale where he accidentally peed on the girl he lost his virginity to when she came into the bathroom. When he said he was trying to stop, the guy behind us groaned, "No, don't stop, that shit hurts." My other favorite audience moment happened when another person's skit caused him to say "Size doesn't matter." Instantly, the girl behind me said, "It matters to me."

Finally, that same only girl in the cast walks by three fourths of the way though and said, "I REALLY like oral sex." Then she proceeded to put a phone number on the chalkboard. With that deja-vous feeling, MattyMat examined his cell phone and realized that the oral sex girl's phone number is real and in his contact list. Way to big pimp MattyMat.

Keying off Vagina Monologues, the men lined up and started naming their penises, or is it peni? My favorite was "Peter-peter, pussy-pleaser". When Vagina Monologues ended, RuchaCat and crew felt like it would be fun to name their vaginas and bring it up in conversation months later. Luckily, over the years none of the guys I know felt the same need because I don't think they could pull it off. …If I was forced to play though I would say I'll call mine the bishop, it works both in the religious catholic schoolgirl way and the cunning intellectual chessboard way. Okay I had lied; I want to be peter-peter too…

This blog was dedicated to all you virgins, thanks for nothing.

Your Personal Hero
THE BAbbLER
pchewy
Anshu Gupta
http://psubabbler.esmartguy.com
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Jimmy Vs Sprinkles - Julia N Nicole Bday

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I do not know what was going on in May that would stir the birds and the bees. Maybe, that is where the word "may bee" came from. Ludicrous, I know but something happened so that nine months later my friends came popping out of their mommies. Maybe there was a condom shortage in 82' that would explain it. Or may bee there is something about kids born on that day that draws them to me. It was 4 years 4 months and 4 days before I was born that Nicole was born. I guess there are forces beyond my rational. Behold the power of four. No matter the case, there are many birthdays this month and thus crazy gift purchases or dinner obligations. Luckily, my friends rock so it is so much fun.

The two big birthdays this week were Julia's on Valentines and Nicole's two days later. On Valentines, I left Nicole's gifts on the counter so she would stumble on them on as a spicy surprise. We are not big on gifts and standard holidays but suave me still got her various little trinkets that I thought linked together. A black shirt with red lips on it led to a tin of cute lip-gloss that sat on a green frog that made a kissing song when squeezed. The amorous green frog led to a green scented candle, which obviously let to a stick of beef jerky. (What girl does not like meat? See Celery for proof [she gave up being a vegetarian then got her first boy toy.])

In general, in life, all I want is a warm bed and a kind word... and unlimited power. For Valentines, the only think I asked of Nicole was a sentimental handmade balloon animal. Being the pious Pchewy that I am, I even left a how-to book and balloons lying around the room. Nicole has an irrational fear that will not let her blow up a balloon though. I am not sure if she thinks it will explode and pieces will suffocate her or poke her eye out. Maybe she thinks the air pressure will pop her ears out. Sadly, Nicole could not overcome her fear and gave me an un-inflated balloon. I tried to pretend it was a dead snake balloon but inside I sighed at the lackluster effort.

Luckily, Julia's bday was able to rescue me from my sadness. It is funny that it was a romantic day and someone else's birthday but I got to dine at my favorite restaurant, Seoul Garden. When I was not reveling in tantalizing yumminess, I enjoyed people watching the quiet couple that were seated upstairs with us. For the theme of Valentines, the restaurant had balloons with cards inside which represented what percent discount you would receive. The sympathetic hostess was nice enough to let Julia pop one too because it was her birthday.

Along with Valentines came funny protest by anti-love people on campus. One even accosted Julia for having roses sent by her boyfriend. The cuddle-haters were well set up with pamphlets and signs. My favorite was something on the lines of "Love misspelled backwards spells evil"--lol. But when I thought about the anti-love_ites, I went back to the quote from the guy who made the Simpsons. "When the authorities warn you of the dangers of having sex, there is an important lesson to be learned. Do not have sex with the authorities." So my advice to poeple who walk by the protesters is laugh but don't try to save thier them.

Two days later came Nicole's birthday. Giftwise, I got Nicole a artsy green picture frame and a sweet passion purple lamp whose shade rotates by the heat of the light bulb. Also, I got this giant ball that slowly changes colors to set some atmosphere for Nicole's bday, but I'm keeping that sweet machine. In addition, I was going to pile 453.6 graham crackers to spell and "happy birthday" and tell Nicole "Here is your POUND cake". Instead, I opted to make her favorite chocolate frosted white cake with sprinkles. Little did I know she would gorge into the cake and feel those unearthly heights of passion on her birthday but would not touch the leftovers. I ended up dumping 3/4ths of the cake a month later, sprinkles and all.

Now the question of the week in this birthday-inspired blogs is Jimmy's or Sprinkles. Most set the argument like the soda verses pop. They say that sprinkles are more excepted as the word describing the topping and that it is colloquial in places like Pittsburgh to call it Jimmys, like pop. Unfortunately, Jimmys vs Sprinkles is a little more complicated.

Some people like Nicole say Jimmys do not exist. Others say that all those treats are all Jimmys. Still there are those like my coworker Amber and I who believe the rod shaped ones are Jimmys. Finally, some believe the rod shaped chocolate ones are the only Jimmys.

This led me to do some research and here are the results. The Jimmy was invented in Pennsylvania by the same company that makes my favorite Mike N Ikes. They were originally just chocolate shaped rods. Eventually other flavors, colors and shapes arose. Still they distinguish the rods as Jimmys and the whole group as Sprinkles. Eventually the Sprinkle name was seen as more marketable so the word Jimmy has become regional and may fade away. Still if you work at a good Ice cream place, you can order a box and it will still say Jimmys on them.

Always glad to share my ignorance - I've got plenty.


Your Personal Hero
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pchewy
Anshu Gupta
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Jermey Returns For Happy Hour

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Jeremy comes back to visit 2/12
Today I present a one time only special. Read this blog and we will grant you free passage to the kingdom of heaven. No questions asked. You just have to drink every time I mention Long Island Ice Tea [Void by racists, rapists, evangelists and people whose name rhymes with feral]

Country Roads take me home…
To the place I belong;
Happy Valley, Home of Joepa,
Take me home, country roads...

Now that version of the famous song is the one I sing whenever I return to Happy Valley from a road trip. It is a tradition, just like when you come back to Pennsylvania you are supposed to roll down your windows, take a deep breath, and suck in that beautiful PA smell (hopefully you are not downwind from Jersey where the tradition is to spit out the window). This Country Roads tradition started by a singer, Cunningham, a cover band made famous at Cafe 210's Friday Happy Hour.

In my undergrad, I used to yell at Mondays and scorn Tuesdays. I used to vow to others I would maim Wednesdays and mess up the hair of Thursdays. In fact, Monday through Thursdays lived in fear. They all knew their days were numbered (no pin intended). You have to admit that those days are inconsequential, just wasted time until it was Friday and I was in love...with my 210 happy hour. It was the earliest happy hour to jump-start your weekend. After I turned 21, it was the place to meet up with a fun subset of my friends.

At $2 dollar, the price break on the Long Island Ice Teas special made it a prerequisite at every Cafe 210's Friday Happy Hour visit. Long Island Ice Teas are proof that God loves us, and only thing better than buying a Long Island Ice Tea is my favorite drink on Fridays. What I like to drink most, you may wonder, is obviously the Long Island Ice Tea that belongs to others. When Jeremy was a TA, one of his students gave us free Long Island Ice Teas. How beautiful, right? Cuando amor no es locura, no es amor (When love is not madness, it is not love.) I amor my Long Island Ice Tea--he-he.

Unfortunately, Cunningham fell ill with a heart attack after we graduated and no longer performs. I am sure it had nothing to do with the smoking, drinking and going to bars all his life. Now "JR and Woman" have taken his place as the cover band you get to listen when drowning in sweet refreshing Long Island Ice Teas. It is defiantly not the same, but I like JR and Woman from the numerous times I saw them holding a "Monkeyboy" at my favorite get-smashed bar, "The Saloon". I call them JR and Woman because JR has gone through several accompanying women since I started listening to him: Shari, Deb, and now Kate. I think Deb was my favorite flavor of the week, but that may be just because she looked the best and I drank the most then.

This weekend Jeremy and his wife came to town so nostalgia forced us to visit Cafe 210 for a few rounds of Long Island Ice Teas. They were both visiting for career fair, but now the tables were turned. They were the people who were recruiting the undergraduates. Lisa had such an exhausting line of applicants eager for employment it must have been heaven when she was finished. Now Lisa could just bounce with her man and friends at happiest Friday spot, Cafe 210; obviously with a Long Island Ice Tea chilling her hand.

Happy hour will always remind me of Trouble and Dicke who I was with most of the times I have gone there. I once dreamt that Trouble got her toes amputated so she could stand closer to the stage while Dicke was behind the bar for some reason saying he was from Long Island so he should mix the drinks. --I know, I know. I need to enter rehab, but that is for quitters. I also will give a huge shout out to SneakAttack, SpecialBrew, and Melanie who were my happy hour postgraduate comrades.

Cafe 210 is more preppy and low key then the other bars I frequent. In addition, you start your evening there so you probably do not have to adhere to the rules of the crowbar to avoid ugly women and fights. "Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things." Then again, that might be standard advice when bar bouncing.

What you do have to remember at 210 is that it is probably a little earlier than you are use to going out. Therefore, make sure you do not blow all your finances or you will a moocher the rest of the night. Now do not do what I do, just do what I say in this matter--hehe. Then again, the times I went nuts were some of the best times. Who needs money anyway? Most money is tainted; taint' yours and it taint' mine.

The next thing you should remember is before you come to 210, eat. If you do not follow my advice, it is okay. It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others. Another gem of advice is when you leave 210 after drinking more than four Long Island Ice Teas, be cautious. It only takes a bananosecond to experience pain. (Bananosecond: Time between slipping on a peel and smacking the pavement which is equal to the time it takes for girls to do the same in high heels after 210 drinking).

Man, all this talk makes me wish I had some Long Island Ice teas right now, but I would probably be giving you different advice, like how to pick up someone. I guess that can be seen as advice too, be wary of what your friends tell you.

I guess the most important thing to remember though is do not go so wild that your spent for the night and passed out in 20 minutes afterwards. You probably do not have a breathalyzer on your cell phone keeping you from making drunken calls, so do not call anyone unless you are going to be funny. Similar warning goes with IM, a warning I think Amy can appreciate: WARNING: the crumsumpten of alcahol may mack you tihnk you can tipe real gode.

Life's a tough job, and the hours are a bitch, but sometimes you can spend a magical hour that last two at a special place and time we will are remember as 210 Happy Hour. I feel sorry for people who do not drink. When they wake up in the morning that is as good as they are going to feel all day. Well it was fun having Jeremy and the crew visit. Raise up your Long Island Ice Tea glasses and do the 210 toast, "Here's to you and here's to me; and if we both disagree, fuck you, here's to me and my true friend Long Island Ice Tea"

Your Personal Hero
THE BAbbLER
pchewy
Anshu Gupta
http://psubabbler.esmartguy.com
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A capella and Lisa Returns for crowbar fun

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Is it my imagination, or do Buffalo wings taste like chicken? I used to get wings all the time, especially this Mystery sauce from Wing Zone. Leave it to Nicole to get wasted one night after chomping some wings and associate one with the other. Now I am subjugated to get my meat fix during company lunches. I am not sure if it was the wing deprivation or the dipping sauce I got at Prospectors, but the wings I engulfed transformed me to another plane of existence where everything unworldly seemed to come into sharp focus. During my spicy epiphany, I finally found out why the chicken crossed the road. It is art. -a chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion-hehe. ANYwho, I munched so many wings for lunch that I was not too hungry for dinner but was looking forward to tonight.

We went to see an a cappella competition in the HUB tonight. A cappella is two words; do you have any idea how long it took me to find that out; Microsoft Word was no help. ANYwho, for said a cappella we waited in the longest line I have seen outside of an amusement park. Frantically, we looked for Bert, Dave, and his girlfriend, but randomly ran into Anna and her friend before Bert'n crew found us. The show was a renowned success, and the clear winners were hilarious beyond their talent. The halls were filled with laughter and merriment. They sang songs from our childhood to today, from Rescue Rangers theme song though Backstreet Boys up to Usher's current hit. I have no idea why it took the judges so long to tally their votes and release the results.

I have actually been going to this competition for several years since my freshman/sophomore roommate was in the music fraternity Phi Mu Alpha. It is one of those cannot miss PSU musical events like seeing the thespians at haunted Schwab, the free bands at Movin' On or Artsfest, or joining the marching band at the end of the Homecoming parade.

Musically speaking, my favorite band is "The Cure" which itunes.com somehow thinks is punk?? In reality, I am quite eclectic in the range of music I like. If you are lucky, you might even see me trip over people during a country line dance, push people twice my size in a mosh pit, shake like a lunatic to rap in my car or celebrate Steelers touchdowns hand in hand with friends bouncing to good polka.

Chorus to the best polka song ever: "I don't want her. You can have her; she's too fat for me" [switch partners]; [repeat] "I don't want her. You can have her; she's too fat for me".-Lol. There's nothing in the world more fun that lifting someone's mom up and passing her around to this song.

Okay prepare yourself now for my favorite musical joke [drum roll, please]:

"Show me a piano falling down a mineshaft
…and I will show you A-flat minor."

Wow, hold your composure. Do not pee your pants. Okay, the joke may seem childish but when you read the heart-breaking story of my musical life, you will know why my musical humor is stuck with my musical skills in elementary school.

My music career is the standard artist story of the system crushing the spirits of the dreamer. I was stifled as a child in grade school when my chorus teachers was knocked up with child and replaced with a kindergarten teacher that I did not know. On her first day, the new chorus director wanted to gage our singing voices so she whipped out a puppet that she made say, "Hello so-and-so, would sing for me?"

One by one like obedient lambs, the other schoolchildren would sing. Then the puppet would congratulate them until my turn came. The puppet turned to me and sang, "Sing high-er!" with the last syllable being raised in her high soprano voice. From all accounts, I froze for a few seconds with this puzzled "What you talking about Willis?" look. When the teacher tried to use the puppet again to demand that I "Sing high-er" I said, "I'll do it again louder, but I'm not going to sing to a puppet!" This led to my dismissal to the principle office with a note of disapproval.

Now by this time in my lustrous four years of schooling, my principle knew me as a model fun loving kid. I assume that he thought I was coming for something the new teacher needed so he offered me a piece of candy. He was confused when I said, "I don't think I get candy" and handed him the note the teacher gave me. As he read the note, he was noticeably surprised that I was there for disciplinary reasons. Instead of following policy and taking me into his office to discuss the situation he asked in shock, "What could you have done?"

I responded, "I'm not going to sing to a puppet." I could see the principle crack a smile that he tried to hide as the secretaries and counselors in the office half laughing tried to look away to conceal that they were listening and thought it was funny. I think they were all on my side and proud of my courage. In the end, the principal took me into his office where he said I could just leave chorus if I wanted to, thus stunting what most undoubtedly would have been a famed musical career that would have changed American Idols competition to who wants to tour with Pchewy. Still, I spoke truth the power and was rewarded with a green Charms lollipop with gum, my favorite.

ANYwho, away from my career-crushing trauma, and back to the weekend we go. I left everyone before the official reading of the judge in the a capella competition because SneakAttack called. Since she was visiting for the weekend, she invited me to join her to see "Giants of Science" at the "Crowbar". For those poor souls that do not know Giants of Science, they are an awesome cheesy 80 cover band with painted chalk faces that are famous for their crazy antics involving wet t-shirts, drinking games, and assorted challenges like that. Since I will probably never go platinum, I will just have to enjoy the musical talents of others like Giants of Science at great venues like the Crowbar.

Let me tell you a few things that I believe. I believe the Crowbar is the best venue for music in State College because it has the strong legacy of being converted from a two-story Burger King to what it is today. I also believe all you Bryce Jordon lovers are punks comparing the intimacy of a venue like the Crowbar to the corporate mass marketing of Bryce. I believe Giants of Science is one of the premier cover bands in Happy Valley, especially when they play at the Crowbar. I believe everyone is entitled to my opinion.

It was enough of a surprise to run into Anna earlier. When I got to the Crowbar, I bumped into Celery's old roommate Debb who was in Florida last semester. After some reacquainting, I met up with SneakAttack and her boyfriend who were sitting with Sexkitten and her boyfriend. Then Kim came by in an amusing way. Kim was kind of like Slinkies ... not really good for anything, but you can't help smiling when you see one tumble down the stairs. Kim was buzzed which most certainly led her to stumble down the one stair separating the second floor from a sunken viewing area on the second floor. I would like to make fun of Kim more for that trip, except I tripped walking up it forgetting it was there. Why is it that when you are walking up the stairs and you get to the top you always think there is still one more step? I guess we are two peas in a pod.

After some drinks, we left the boyfriends and went down to the dance floor. The loveliest of faces are set by stage light, when one sees half with the eye and half with the fancy. It was soooo much fun. It was also the first time I saw Kim dance too. Apparently, her love of the Crowbar makes it the only place she dances. Can anybody blame her?

While I was lost in song and dances from before my time, I was flooded with memories of the dozens of different bands I have seen at the venue. I discovered "Republica" and saw legends like "G-Love" and "Vanilla Ice" on his comeback tour. Over the times, I have learned the two rules to remember in the crowbar.

Rule one is to take it easy, Don't fight. Do not push, shove, or get in a huge fight because some drunk person runs into you. Also, lay off the arguments with your significant others. Why ruin a fun night?

The second rule is be wary of women you meet in the Crowbar. The drinks are flowing so do not go after girls and just assume they are as attractive they appear. Um, I am not talking for personal experience (hopefully you believe that).

After some heartache with fights and hooches, I have created a way to avoid the two Crowbar sins. The thing that works for me with girls is to see how much they are sweating to gauge their non-beer goggle size. The advice to keep from fighting is just to chill yourself, ignore others and focus on the music.


Luckily SneakAttack, Kim, and Sexkitten were neither fighters nor sweaters so I had fun just watching the drama of those around us who did not follow the rules. I guess my advice to all can be summed up like this: "Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things."

Your Personal Hero
THE BAbbLER
pchewy
Anshu Gupta
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Trouble's New Tounge Ring

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There is a fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness". Nicole thinks blogging is the latter. Currently, she is awaiting trial for sabotaging my steady blog updates. No sane jury would acquit her. Everyone knows it. With her high high-falutin lawyers though, it will never reach a trial. She might escape formal prosecution but my avid readers will know she is the excuse for the time delay in the posts. If you are reading this now and are outraged, fell free to IM her some wrath.

Still, I wrote a few disheveled outlines, but I have not converted them to the type of English mere mortals would comprehend. I guess I am a slacker. I figure the sooner you fall behind, the more time you will have to catch up. Unfortunately, I took this logic a bit too far and now my subscribers are demanding new and exciting material, some going as far as demanding their money back. To those who have sent complaints, sawed-off! I will take my sweet time missy. If you cannot rush genius, than surely you push a visionary like me. For those who give me any more trouble, I shall visit you in the small hours and put a bat up your nightdress.

ANYwho, reviewing my web gallery flashes me back to Trouble whom I am super proud of because of the way she has transformed her life into more of what she is capable of by going to graduate school in Arizona. My dear friend Trouble has yet again done the kewlest thing. While most people succumb to sadness and loneliness when they move somewhere new, Trouble decided to take her time in a different environment to try new things. We can all learn from that idea.

Every weekend Trouble tries something new or renewed like going to the zoo or learning to salsa dance. This time her impetuous thirst for fun took her to get her tongue pierced. While most people after undergraduate become conservative and lame, Trouble is still squeezing zest out of life no matter how retarded it makes her sound, and tongue piercing do make one sound silly. All the while, she is joining prestigious groups and pursuing a PHD in child development (--No going Ahhh now I know why she is friends with you, child development, pchewy is a big kid).

Coincidentally, it was a fiery piercing that first drew me to Trouble long before we formally met. She worked as a checker at McLahahands. I knew her as the cute girl with the eyebrow piercing that could be seen in the background of our home videos of our college escapades around town. It was more than a year later that I met her for real though mutual friends. Since then, Trouble has gotten many impressive piercing and jewelry all of which I am a fan of.

The eyebrow one I think is the most personable one in the way that one should only get it if it fits their personality. Trouble has changed a little since then and her eyebrow ring has been phased out, but there is this new tongue piercing to revitalize the fun.

Most of the other piercing Trouble has I think all girls should get, such as the ear tips and the cartilage in the upper ear. I used always tell people I would like to get my nipple pierced like Trouble. Unfortunately, with fear of injury during sports and my personal lack of nipple real estate, my dream will probably never come to fruition. Still, I cannot think of a reason why most girls who are not that active would not want the nipple pierced. Similar logic goes to piercing in jungle spider nether regions.

The next big piercing I am a fan of is the belly ring. Every heterosexual male and even the monkeys that live next door to me agree that they are hot. However, we all know that girls do not really do that kind of things to get male attention as much as express themselves, compete, and impress other girls. Still, nothing says summer fun more than that little twinkle drawing your stare. For some reason I put them on par with toe rings and I just really like the gleam like a new copper penny. I feel sorry for those girls who are infectious prone and steer away from that.

The other piercing left is the glamorous exclusively personally driven ones like the eyebrow piercing or chin studs. They should be preformed for people who appreciate the art and freedom of expression rather than just being rebellious or trendy. My favorite among those that Trouble has gotten is the nose piecing. Coming from an Indian heritage, the large nose piercing worn by married Indian women always reminded me of bulls and has negative connotations from my perspective. Still the very tiny, almost glitter dot sized ones I think is kewl. In addition, I think they work for most girls no matter their ethnicity but it seems not enough girls are daring enough to try.

Well I almost feel like I should bust in on a discussions of tattoos and outline the ones Trouble has that I like, but I do not want to ruin all of her soap opera mystic. I will say the tattoo above the buttocks on the lower back is called a "San Diego License plate", just so when I mention it conversation I will not need to explanation it for what feels like the thousandth time. I am not saying that Trouble has one but that it is my general suggestion as to wear girls should get one.

So I'll just end with a shout of my approval for the most recent tongue piercing and Trouble's revitalized search to improve her life. I am proud of you babe. You remind me of that quote from the person whose cancer went into remission. They said on motivational speaking circuit, "I wish everyone could live life like you were dying." It is somewhat odd to envy the ill, but sometimes their perspective is awe-inspiring. I think Trouble has had enough hardship in her life to know how important it is to cherish your time in good health on this wacky wet world, and it is from her I get strength when I need it.

Anywho, this quick blog was just to send some love out to my sweet friend Trouble, and remind her that her good friends will keep in touch because life without you would be like a broken pencil. --How's that? -Completely pointless. (Awe, can you believe I am ending it on a sappy note? Do not try to typecast me into being just another prankster punks!)

Blowing u a kiss, u can't avoid it, it's cheeck-seeker.

Your Personal Hero
THE BAbbLER
pchewy
Anshu Gupta
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Steve Suprise Visit

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The trouble with being punctual is that nobody is there to appreciate it. Steve left me a message: Surprise I am in town, Indian Pavilion for lunch? After a tingly shower full of anticipation, I ditched Lazybones (Nicole) who would not be bothered to wake up that early on a weekend (noon). Then, through the bell-clear morning and its bitter winds, I roared past the others to the Pavilion to set a new speed record. I was there just in time to cell Steve to find they postponed the meal another 20 minutes.

To kill time I went to my favorite movie rental store, Mike's Music & Video. As the ebb and flow of consumer demand and the advent of the internet transforms the industry of high end consumable art, the downtown Mikes no longer had much of any music to peruse. In my undergrad year, Case and I spent hours going up and down the isles looking for gems of our favorite musicians, but this was not the same Mikes. In fact, their famed 49-cent VCR rental has gone the way of the dinosaur, which is great because my VCR runs tenuously at best. Now I mostly rent DVD and video games for a buck something a day, payable when you return.

There is still something about the event of physically being in a store that makes it preferable to the cheaper Netflix web mail option. I do not know if it is just nostalgia, the hunter in my primordial psyche that craves the trill of the chase, or if it is more of an MTV need for instant gratification that will not allow the wait for shipping, but it keeps me coming like baby to crack even though it does not make sense. It is like when you are surfing through the stations on cable and you pause for a second on Full House. You know should should not, but you do.

Finally. Pavilion. The last few times Steve's came up to Happy Valley I have not been able to get Pavilion so I was happy to finally make it. With Steve came MattyMat and Dicke, and for the first time KT, Brooke, and Amy joined us for the traditional weekend buffet. If you have never been to the buffet before, what makes the meal great is the bread (NAN) and the chicken. Of course, this made me feel special when I was first in line from our group and got the last of the nan bread. This joy was short lived though. In a matter of seconds, there was more fresh bread for all.

After the first round of eats, MattyMat left to get more meat because, well, meat is good. He asked us to make sure they did not take his plate because he still had some nan bread on it. Obviously this meant that I should take it and hide it somewhere. For some reason putting it on his seat made the most sense. Even though MattyMat arrived right at the moment of the disappearance, he did not see the vanishing act.

With his Spidy senses heightened, MattyMat knew something was awry. He sniffed suspiciously until he saw, or as the case may be, did not see his plate. The crocodile smiles surrounded him but did not know who too accuse; he looked at his spot without his plate as confused as a baby in a topless bar.

Quickly MattyMat conceded and went back to the buffet in the other room. This further inspired me to hand his plate to the waiter who was taking finished plates. Of course, you can imagine the look on the waiter's face. It was a little befuddled, as if he did not believe that I just pulled a used dish from a seat, but he wanted no part it asking how or why. MattyMat now had his meat and bread and some exercise so we let him in on where the plate went.

More juvenile antics continued with the conversation and us questioning what certain deserts were made from. Surprisingly my Indian heritage helped as much as a straw in the dessert. Amy and Brooke took the brunt of the abuse along with most of the airborne food attacks. When we finally parted, I suggested renting some movies to kill the afternoon. Most bailed but Amy promised to join us after her hair cut which luckily was right next to the Pavilion. In addition, it ended up being the same stylist that MichealAnne uses.

I went in with Amy for a second trying to convince the stylist to shave her head; Instead Amy got a haircut, which belonged in one of those bar games where your drunken blurred vision is supposed to find the difference between two pictures of the same event. To the unsuspecting eye, it would be easy to overlook it. They would loose and have to put another quarter in. Still it would not be too hard to guess the area since Amy’s humongous hippo ass would take up most of the shot.

While Amy was being pampered and undoubtedly talking about us to the gals in the shop while under one of those hair contraptions that could give her the Marge Simpson look, MattyMat, Steve and I went back to Mike's Music & Video to select two flicks. I invited Nicole to join us but the lazy lioness had no desire to dress to see a movie she had just seen in the theaters. On the way back to MattyMat's we stopped at CVS where the alarm sounded as we entered. Damn racial profiling! I think they could smell the Indian food on my Caucasian brothers and could see though my disguise... Or maybe it was because we had movie with those little anti theft things on them.

A similar thing happened to me the first time I went to petite library, but I did not have anything that would have the strip. I blamed rational profiling or poltergeists to amuse the four girls that were in my group. The poltergeist theory won out because later I tried to use the Microfiche and put it in backwards to have it explode everywhere. This could not be explained by my incompetence so had to be the paranormal. This time I just handed the movies to the woman at the counter who swiped them. Then I proceeded to go down the isle amused at what consumers can purchase from CVS.

MattyMat needed toilet paper and Steve needed milk. Somehow from this simple endeavor, the cell phone abuse occurred. Amy most likely got a free series of messaging vibration from her cell phone at the salon. If she listened to the messages, she would hear MattyMat leaving one making fun of her lame message. Then he realized he had free weekend and nights so he just left the cell phone running, handing it to Steve and I at various times until it cut off 6 1/2 minutes later. Oh this is funny we thought, so Steve dialed up.

While Steve was leaving a voice mail, I dialed up so that Amy could hear her own voice when listening to Steve's message. I know it sounds silly, but it was actually quite amusing, especially when we went down the isle reading packaging. As fate would have it the first thing we found were the lamb condoms and the pregnancy tests. Afterwards we found the KY Jelly and as seen on TV patted bras which apparently they sell at CVS. I have to give Steve the most props for reading a label and then doing the same label in Spanish. Cómo es divertido es el Steve?

When we got to MattyMat's apartment, James, Anthony and Christina were watching Spaceballs. My favorite line of course "When will then be now?" --soon came up. It was long enough since I last saw the movie that I was giggling. I still think Spaceballs should have been re-released to the theater when the original Star Wars movies came out again. James told me there were Internet rumors that tried to get them to make Spaceballs III the search for Spaceballs II, but there's little chance of that happening. Lament.

Drip, drip, d..r..i..p. There was this sound from the kitchen which confused me. Pursuing the valley of echoes I found MattyMat had some chicken in the sink thawing. I added some soap and took a picture of Amy next to it. Actually, it came out rather nice. I guess when the spacing of the picture does not have to overcompensate for Amy's giant ass she can look quite lovely. Later, Anthony went in the kitchen to find the floating bottle of soap. He turned back to the group in the living room and asked, “Why is there soap in chicken?”

Anthony did not know whom, but knew it was sabotage but thought it would be funnier asking about it rather then just letting MattyMat stumbling upon it. We are just proud that Anthony could make popcorn, which were his intentions in the kitchen. Over a week ago, Anthony burned popcorn and the smell was still a part of the microwave. Now this is not just your standard burn the popcorn in the dorm, opens the window and go to your friends for a bit. This was opening the microwave and there was actually a yellow haze of smoke escaping like a cartoon radioactive blob. Still, we let him make popcorn because we need some to enjoy the movies.

The two movies we got both ended up being druggy movie set in New Jersey of all places. Along with most of the country I've always made fun of New Jersey and have not been too fond of Philly because of it proximity to Jersey and that whole someone telling me the wrong directions in the car and me having to have to pay for making a wrong turn and going over a bridge. ANYwho, I think it is funny that my family whose first generation immigrates are in Pittsburgh now all their first-born child living in Jersey. My cousin Kitty, my older sister Shenu, and my cousin Anoop (and his wife Riju) all are the oldest of their immediate family and are living in Jersey. Arun and his wife Rupal also have gone to evil garden state.

ANYwho, Garden State was one of the movies we rented. It was the more serious of the two, and starred the girl from “The Professional” all grown up. She fell in love in 4 days with an actor who been on psychiatric drugs since childhood returning back to his hometown after his mom's suicide. My description probably makes it seem like a downer but it was actually an uplifting story, but paled in comparison to the other movie we rented. Harold and Kumar go to White Castle is ridiculous!! You go just expecting a crazy antics of some post-college pot heads and what you get is the most amazing serious of events which at the time seem completely believable and leave you laughing continuously. Assuming you're under the age of 104, you should get this movie!! It's EXTREME!!

James and Anthony looked snazzy when they left us in gangster style on their way to a semi. With nothing better to do, we got into some recklessly wresting antics. Grab Amy's legs and made a wish! It is dangerous being the only girl around. Amy got back at me though. They decided to go to Subway from some fresh eats and Amy just about took me out with the door when I tried to enter the establishment. Let's just say me going through the subway door entrance was like skiing through a revolving door. Nicole's friends were eating at Outback so I ditched the group to join hers.

I guess the rest of Steve’s visit became Aussified in honor of our mutual friend Aussie Mike. From the Australian restaurant Outback, we met back up with Steve at Aussie Mike's favorite pub, Bar Bleu. If I had to live my life over, I'd live over a saloon, Bar Bleu to be specific. By the way everyone that is pronounced bar blaah!! because its French Cajun.

My signature 7 and 7 drink sparkled like a diamond. I got a blinking blue stirrer for Nicole when I got her a huge fishbowl long island ice tea which left her whining it's soooo big and cold. How come when she goes out with her fiends or with Steve without me, she comes back wasted? For a while I was sent back to my high school days when I hung out with Kelly's other brother and his friends at Jazz clubs in Pittsburgh. The band here was not mind blowing but its nice to hear a sax every once and a while. I keep nagging Nicole to bring hers so I can blow into like Homer and say "sax-a-ma-phone", but as of yet she has not learned to O-b-e-y.

Part of the highlights of diner and Bar Bleu was me trying to convince Nicole and Andrea that Dave's beard wasn't atrocious. I still think its funny that Nicole has a friend Dave who is dating a girl named Andrea because my buddy Dave Wyman was conjoined to this girl Andrea to the point we called them Dandrea in college. Andrea from Dandrea was my friend but their relationship was messed up. I'm quite happy that Dave Wyman found and married Mariel, especially because it got me to go on a weeks vacation to Puerto Rico with Spaz and Sexkitten.

ANYwho Bert wins the prize for the most drunk. I don't know if it is that he doesn't go out that much because he's in a competitive major, Astrophysics, or if it is his Korean blood; maybe it is just he is a guy from Penn State, but he tends to get lit the few times I'm at bars with him. For the most part it is amusing with lots of hugs and "I'm glad you're my friends". Last time at Bar Bleu, he was kicked out though and I was yelled at because I thought he left but was still downstairs and the bouncers wanted us to take him.

Now Bert has this super strong handshake, which to old school business types is probably something to admirable. I have the complete opposite hand shake that is curved and quick because I don't like judging or being judge too quickly on first meetings, because I learned early in love I missed out on some people because of first impressions. In fact, Steve and I did not really have a memorable first impression. To others though, Bert's shake comes off as an overcompensating pissing contest. Steve who is damn strong for his statue was the first person to just ask him about it. This is one of the things I like most about Steve. He has the character to confront someone he knows.

Of all the friends I have, Steve have to be the least likely person that I thought I would be good pals with. Like if he read that last sentence he’d mention that it ended with a preposition-lol. Steve may have come off a little too smart for his own good when I first met him. He knew his stuff and sometimes that comes off as I am better than you, which he is because he's my friend--lol. Steve might have been a little too conservative about things or too know it all. He definitely was too complacent not wanting to chase after girls for fearing to be that dick. Though the intentions of this are admirable, sadly it usually sabotaged his chances for romance sometimes, but I know when Steve finds the right person, it'll be them who is the lucky one. Because when Steve makes a decision to have fun, he and everyone around him does. When he goes into his gay sas talk, or when he gets a few drinks in him and lets loose, he's actually one of the most personable fun guys to know. I better cut this paragraph and blog off now before it everyone starts thinking I have a non-sexual crush on Steve. I leave that to Aussie Mike.

Steve is my friend and I'm glad he surprises us this weekend to add some more joy to happy valley and can't wait til next time.....Or maybe I'm just hungry again. mmmm Pavilion.

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