hurley7

Hey all, the blog has moved to http://www.hurley7.wordpress.com 

They support youtube videoclip embedding, so I'm pretty pumped.

I heart you all!

 

I love women. 
I love BEAUTIFUL women.
But more than that, I love women with brains, personality, and a sense of humor. Beauty is just a huge added bonus. It's like winning the lottery and getting to kick a guy with a popped collar in the balls. You'd be happy with the lottery winnings (brains, personality, sense of humor), but kicking the douche bag in the balls (the beauty) is a very nice and welcome add on.

So what's my point? I have a rather large disdane for (for lack of a a better term) "dumb bitches". 

You know the types. If you don't, listed below is a bunch of characteristics. You'll be able to spot them:

1). They have VIP status at Electric Beach. 
2). They don't have them apple bottom jeans, but they for damn sure got them boots with the fur. And they fuckin' wear them with pink sweat pants!
3). Their hair is more bleach blonde than a lab rat's pubes.
4). They have more than two of Daddy's credit cards.
5). An hour of their life is blocked off every week to watch the God damn Hills.
6). They tan so much by the time they're 30 they're going to look like an Umpa-Loompa leather handbag... On their face.
7). The word "Like" is not meant to be used as an adjective, yo!
8). On facebook they list "Pink" as one of their interests. Who the fuck does that!?!
9). Malibu and pineapple. Drink of choice of the "Dumb Bitches" :)
10). They travel in packs. 

Anyways, just had to get that off my chest. I may sound like I absolutely hate these women.... But, if you're single..... How YOU doin'? lol

There has been an ongoing debate whether or not Nick will be arrested by Law and Order SVU because of his... well... His desire to make people "Special Victims". Also Detective Stabler is one of my heroes.

[19:15] HolyFkItsNick: videobox
[19:15] *** Auto-response sent to HolyFkItsNick: Library. Grinding out a presentation and loving the new Jack Johnson album.
[19:17] hurley200703: stabler
[19:17] HolyFkItsNick: stabler goes blind in an episode
[19:18] hurley200703: probably after taking a blacklight to your water cell bed
[19:18] HolyFkItsNick: ummm... no
[19:18] hurley200703: the glow of the semen blinded him and half of Winona County
[19:18] HolyFkItsNick: hahaha
[19:18] hurley200703: you get more ass than a toilet seat
[19:18] HolyFkItsNick: they would be blinded by your face

Yeah. So I've becomed obsessed with Microsoft Paint because I have to be to survive one of my communication studies classes, because if I didn't I would litterally blow my brains out.

So without further ado, MS Paint Greatest Hits




Have you seen this fuckin' movie? If I was Iver I would sue the shit out of the producers for making a biography of Iver's life without permission.




In some cases.... 8.5 years.




I heart Kelli and Gina... How the fuck did I mispell tounge?... I mean tongue.




It would be less funny if it wasn't true. They paid us dick, but in all fairness... They did pay us dick and a half during holidays and overtime.



I knew I recognized Tyler from somewhere.

 

 

Fuck you Tom Brady.

Nothing against the guy personally, but I love to see the favorites fail. 
I think I am in the majority of Americans who love to see the Yankees lose, loved to see the Cowboys lose, and absolutely LOVE to see the Patriots and Pretty Boy Tom get upended by the 13.5 point underdog Giants tonight. 

The Giants defense played great, especially the defensive line (Strahan is god, Tuck is the man, and Robbins is a former Viking) who got pressure on Brady all day. Moss and Mauroney were non-factors, the only thing that kept the Patriots in the game were Wes Welker and Kevin Faulk (who apparently never fails on 3rd down EVER). 

A bunch of Deltasigs got together at Cilantros house to watch the game. We had a ton of food, a few beers, and a ton of good times. Most of the pregame was spent laughing at Frank Caliendo, talking about how awesome it would be if the Patriots got it rammed up their ass, and how awesome the new KFC spicy wings are (F'in AMAZING).... and, oh yeah... when Terry Bradshaw dropped one of the phattest F-Bombs in network TV history!

[ youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gw3arPrpHqg]

Random SuperBowl Thoughts:
-I was a little disappointed by most of the commercials. We were looking forward to the Bud Light ones all day, but they sucked. The best one of the night was from Doritos where the guy set the mouse trap with a Dorito and then the mouse busted out of the wall and ruined the guys shit.
-Osi Umenyiora is a fuckin' stud. 
-It was nice to see Giselle at the game, even though I am pretty sure she had no idea what was going on.
-Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers was a really good halftime show, even though it was devoid of the titty and penis shaped guitars we have grown accustomed to from superbowls past. 
-I was pumped not to hear a word from Mercury Morris during the entire game even though not only were the Patriots in his neighborhood, but they were at his fuckin' dinner table. Shame they didn't get served.
-Can't wait to see "Semi Pro"
-Nate Wannigman loves his "Cheesy Spoon". I'm calling him CSpoo from now on.
-House is an F'd up show.


Either way, I think this was one of the best Superbowls I've ever seen. A chastised quarterback comes out on top, the underdog prevails, and the Patriots and their smug son of a bitch coach gets their perfect season shoved up their ass. Great Day!

 

This is me and some of my friends. Gosh Joe has a sweet ass. Kinda freak out about how he can turn his neck around like taht. Oh well, at least that makes him a good lover, that's what his boyfriend says at least.

Anyways, something I've been meaning to rant about since this weekend is the stupidity of some women. Okay, stupidity might be a little harsh, naiveness would be more the term. We had our Volleyball/Basketball tournament for Deltasig down in Ames (aka put a bullet in my head), IA this past weekend (our hotel had 8 floors and I swear to God it was the tallest building in the state). Some of the young and impressionable ladies we ever so smitten by some gentlemen from a certain chapter of a certain college that tuition costs about 10x than that of our beloved WSU. The university clientele is comprised of smart kids on scholarships and rich douchebags. The attendees of this event were very much in the latter camp.

They adopted the rallying cry of "Class and Quality" (which got SO fucking annoying during the weekend I can't even explain) describing their new found for both. Even though after talking to these kids for 5 minutes they hold NOTHING either close to either quality. I've seen more character in "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants"... Not that I've ever watched it... Shut up. 

Back to the story. First off I am trying to stay very objective about this whole issue. 
1). I have no vested interest in the women (girls) involved in this story. (Even though one is my lil bro)
2). I get along fine with people who come from money or who don't. I believe character supercedes everything
3). After talking to these guys for 5 mins, the conversation always sways back to what kind of car they drive or how much they spent at J.Crew this weekend. But hey it's okay, some people need to compensate to feel adequate in life. The rest of us have penises.



We all have to learn sometime about what really matters in life. I just hope they don't get burned too bad. Or get the clap.

Random Double Entry.

So I'm in mugby and there was a very cute girl sitting in the corner reading a thick book that probably isn't even in English (it looked like Dickenson and I don't consider British english) and the glasses that the sexy librarian would wear.

Of course I want to go talk to her but I've got to stratergerize. 

She has all of the telltale "fuck off" signs. The glasses, the ipod, and the book (which she hasn't flipped a page in over 5 mins, so either: A) she's not reading and trying to send me ESP messages to come over (most likely), B) it is really small print, or C) she really can't read and only pretends to in public to make herself feel better despite her shortcomings).

But either way I leaned over and tried the old "do you know what time it is?". Very subtle introduction to get conversation going, very innocent and casual, except for one thing... I forgot I was wearing my fucking watch! Which she spotted right away, read it as a line, and proceeded to keep on fake reading. GREAT. 

Ah well live an learn. I didn't really want to date the illiterite girl anyways.


Random conversation with Gina during this occurance:
[13:25] hurley200703: thinking about how to appraoch the "intelligent" chick at mugby
[13:25] hurley200703: you know, the book kind
[13:25] kbball2204: aaaaah
[13:25] kbball2204: lol
[13:25] kbball2204: just walk up n say hi
[13:25] kbball2204: der
[13:25] kbball2204: not that hard
[13:26] kbball2204: or u can do it the creepy way... study her n then do the same stuff as her n  "bump" into her
[13:26] kbball2204: n be like  omg NO WAAAAAYY u have that toooo
[13:27] kbball2204: :-D
[13:28] hurley200703: have what too?
[13:29] hurley200703: reproductive organs?
[13:29] kbball2204: haha

I really have no idea what the above photo has to do with my age, I just thought it was really fuckin' funny!

Anyways it has been a while since my last blog, and since that time I have found this out: 18 credits is a bitch! I don't know how those little engineering and science fuckers do it semester in and semester out! Now don't get me wrong, MY 18 credits of communications classes (mostly just BS, smoozing, and telling people what they want to hear... finally playing to my strengths) are not even close to the difficult classes they take (Random: I was with an engineering girl for a while and one of their daily assignments was to find the area of a sphere.... A fuckin' sphere!!! Like a 3-D circle! WHo does that shit?) 

Whatever, my classes are still a grind nonetheless. What kind of bugs me is that my "Organizational Communications" class really has nothing to do with Organizations or really communication for that matter. The major project of the class is putting together a portfolio of the "dream job" of our choice and also shadow a professional in that field. Some people in the class chose normal things like: volunteer coordinator, pastor, speech pathologist. I was thinking about shadowing Heath Ledger, because I always wanted to be the joker, but then he killed himself and fucked that all up. 

Shame. C'est la vie.

Ahhh shit. 

The start of another semester here at WSU, which is sadly my last. Right now I'm sitting in my intermediate psychology class, the oldest person by at least two years, and typing up a much needed update blog. 

Well a good portion of my very good friends are gone now. Dabel is in Modesto, CA. Tyler and Flom are on Pacific Challenge. Iver is going China soon. I'm starting to become the old guy who stays at the party WAY too long... But it's fun what can I say. 

I gave up drinking heavily every night and have rededicated myself to getting into shape. I now run 5 times a week and lift 3, eat a lot better, and don't get Campbelled and order pizza every Saturday. It has really helped shed the weight (211 down to 184 in 59 days).

I picked up a Communications Studies minor and have 18 credits to go. 

Pretty boring update, but I promise I'll have some wit on the next ones!

 

Well here I am. On day 8 of my new found sobriety (few people actually thought I could last this long) and I feel more alive and engergetic than ever. I've been getting up early and exercising and working out, I've been more focused on the tasks I need to get done, and overall I feel more productive since I'm not hungover for parts of the day. Plus I've saved a shit ton of money in the process. 

It's not like I've been locking myself in my room and quivering under the blankets either, I've actually gone out the past 2 nights with parts of the crew. Friday just to hang out and Saturday for Jen's 21st birthday. Being completely sober in a bar full of drunk people have led me to make the following observations:

1. I am way better at darts sober.
2. Women are generally not attracted to shitfaced fools spitting cheesy lines... Unless they are shitfaced too.
3. Jen gets very handsy when she drinks.
4. People are generally uglier when you're not drunk.
5. Schydes is a shady ass place when you are sober.
6. Wigwam smells like tequila and vicotin.
7. You noticed are are eyed fucked a lot more when you are sober.
8. You don't find the urge to take home THAT girl.
9. Dabel can go from calm to Rabel in 1.75 liters.

It was pretty cool to be a DD for the first time ever last night too and being able to cart my drunk friends around. It was VERY cool to hear some of the responses from my friends about my decision. Not only were they supportive, but wished they could do what I am doing. And that is what I am here for, to inspire others.

 

 

Everyone faces problems on a daily basis. The difference is how we handle them. We either face our challenges head on and solve them or run away and let them grow and fester. I am sick of running away from my problem and ready to fight my alcoholism head on.

 

Things definitely intensified over the past year. The most influential person in my life, my Grandfather died, my Father lost his leg to cancer, my Grandmother was diagnosed with kidney cancer, not to mention the flood. So many painful events occurred in such a short period of time that instead of becoming strong, I became weak, and began to drown my sorrows.

 

It always made me feel better to go out and have a beer or ten.

Order up a round of shots, then maybe another, who’s counting anyways?

Beer bong? Why not three?

Who cares if the rent is due next week? Let’s get a few more cases and keep this party going!

It is so pathetic when you have a real choice between paying your cell phone bill and partying.

It’s not like I was hurting for money this past semester, I have a good job at the Big River Room and my side businesses were doing very well. But for some odd reason it has been a struggle to keep up with the bills. The reason? I think we all know.

 

Alcohol was the way to run from my problems, but I am far too tired of running anymore.

 

During parts of this semester I was sleeping 12-15 hours a night, either from being hung-over or not wanting to get up and face the world that day. At my lowest point, I admit there were times when I saw little point in continuing on. Finances a wreck, no proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel”, and the only thing that made me happy (booze) was the very same thing that was causing all of this pain.

 

I finally bottomed out this weekend when I had a dozen beers, half a dozen mixed drinks, half a dozen shots, and 2 martinis in a 5 hour period and felt no buzz whatsoever.

 

I firmly believe that the only things that kept me alive during that stretch were my family and Delta Sigma Pi. I had to attempt to be leading a happy, normal life because the fear of letting either of them down is a fear worse than death itself.

 

I decided I have to change now, because I fear the events that it takes most alcoholics to make a change.

Getting hauled away in a black and white to detox?

Losing the function of my liver and other internal organs?

Killing someone in a DUI crash?

 

November 18^th, 2007 was day one.

 

 

Ah yes. Another weekend, another weekend filled to the brim with Deltasig events. Needless to say it was debauchery at its finest.

Let's start off with Friday. We all take off at 11am or so to go up to the cities and tour the Federal Reserve Bank. In the car was Pieper, Dabel, Iverson, and myself. I know, I know, you already feel bad for Pieper, but it gets better. On the way through Cannon Falls, Emily was on the phone with Brejcha and said that we were stopping for lunch. Dabel chimes in, "Tell Brejcha we're going to Class Act (strip club) for some sideways sloppy jos!" 

The Tour was cool... but we all know what you want to hear about. 

After the tour, a handful of us go off to Hooters and get some wings and beer during happy hour. I of course instigate the Proast, chugging whole beer while starting straight in other person eye. If you do not chug whole beer you can have your ass kicked. We're then about to head to the Independant, where we are meeting alumni for dinner Uptown, but we realize that we have no booze with us. So we toss LIQUOR STORES in the GPS and Iver and I are the poor ground troops who must carry out this task while Pieper and Dabel circle the block.

After we find a ghetto ass liquor store, we are sitting by the curb waiting for the car to come around, which didn't for quite some time. I get on the phone with Dabel, "Stop circling and get your ass over here! We have a $100 of booze in a bad part of town!"

Dinner at the Independant was fun. We completely rocked the waiters shit when our 24-top came in... oh well, we took care of him on the tip. It was cool to chat with Bubba, Mikey, Brejcha, as well as meet a few other alumni. The atmosphere at the restaurant was pretty chill. The food kinda sucked but the drinks were flowing so it didnt really matter.

After that we headed over to Brejchas, played some drinking games. Most notably we recreated the line chugging contests from Beerfest. We found out that Kelsey can chug faster than Tyler. OOOO-Burn!

The next morning we headed up to Lake Calhoun (near St. Louis Park) and had some fun playing bocce ball and relay games with some alumni. The Lake was beautiful. Surrounded by $1 million+ houses and a great view of the downtown skyline.

After stops at Williams in Uptown and Celts in Rosemount for a few rounds, we were finally headed back to Winona for the pledge social. But we didn't want to be hungover when we got there... so we decided to play pass the bottle with the 750 of apple pucker leftover from the Lake.

The pledge social was interesting. It was a Mardi Gras theme and it was fun. I introduced Stingers (tequila, sugar and oranges) to some new people and now they are tequila fans! 

Anyways, long weekend, going to be followed by another one (LEAD) and another one (Initiation). I hope i survive!

 

 

One of my fondest food/childhood memories was when I would come home Sunday evenings on a cold winter night having just spent the entire afternoon playing basketball with my friends down at open gym. Heat would radiate from the house as I would open the door, bringing life back to my rosey cheeks and melting my near frostbitten earlobes. And then came the smell. The hearty aroma of my mom's chili, beef stroganoff, or meatballs and mashed potatoes beckoning me from the kitchen. I would gleefully kick off my snow boots, sprint past the Vikings game on TV (they were probably losing anyways), and snag my seat at the table. 

The first bites were always the best, but lest we forget the next bite and the next bite, followed by second and third helpings. Always good, always full of love, always delicious. That's cooking I grew up with. And that is why I cook.

Initially I did not want to become a chef. It was my passion, and I did not want to mix my passion with my profession. It seems like backwards thinking but I did not want cooking to become a chore or become "work". But as I worked my internship as a purchaser at Michaels' Lighting, I realized I would rather put a bullet in my brain than work in an office for the rest of my life. At the same time I was discovering that cooking could NEVER be work. The heat and the pressure is addicting. 

The past three weeks I've been working as a cook at the Big River Room in Winona (formerly the Black Horse). It's the classiest establishment in Winona and I've learned a lot about kitchen operations in a short amount of time. Primarily just been working the fryer and watching to see how professional steaks are grilled, pasta sauces thickened, and scallops broiled. Its the School of Hardknocks and it's great.


I have set a timeline for my culinary goals:
2009:  Become a Sous Chef at a 4-Star Restaurant
2012:  Become an Executive Chef 
2014:  Become an Executive Chef / Co Owner of a Restaurant
2015:  Own my own restaurant
2016:  Open another restaurant.
2017:  Open two restaurants.
2020:  Own 8-10 restaurants (no franchises) as well as many related vendors (liquor distributing, produce, meat, dairy, etc). Build a culinary empire through vertical integration.
2022:  Appoint a Deltasig as the CEO of my corporation and retire to the kitchen.
2030:  Go public with the corporation while still retaining 51% control. 


Culinary dreams combined with srewd business sense. 

So I had an epiphany today. I NOW know why so many Americans hate French people!  

In my personal culinary studies, I have been researching extensively about French cuisine and culture. I am now aware of why so many Americans hate Frenchies. BECAUSE WE ARE POLAR FUCKING OPPOSITES! And we Americans are jealous.

Here are some comparisons:

FOOD
French: Eat the most exquisite and rich cuisine in the world.
Americans: Either can I get a side of ranch with that? or how many carbs is that? I don't know if that will fit my Atkins diet.

DRINK
French: Best vinyards in the world. Drink all fuckin' day.
American: Beer. In moderation... Unless you're from Wisconsin or in college.

SEX
French:Fuck all day.
American: If married, MAYBE twice a month. With any luck.

WORK
French:4 day weeks. 2 months vacation.
American: God damn French and their time off. I hate them! I'm gonna go work my 80 hr work week...

WAR
French:Alright, alright. We surender but only if we can still do the first 3 categories.
American: We're fuckin' patriots! Let's go fight someone else's war.

'Nuff said.

 

Oh God.

After these past two weekends of debauchery my body feels weak, rejecting any kind of booze (not really), and still spinning from completely fucking random sleep patterns. AND IT WAS ALL FUCKIN WORTH IT!!!

Let's start off last weekend with Island Gurl.



The morning of started off innocent enough. Stumbled over to Myhre's with a 20oz Baileys and Coffee. Met up with him and Dabel. Heard about their 4-Mile and air compressor nail gun stories and made some ass kicking gin and juices. Then the car ride over to LaCrosse consisted of Tyler, Cilantro (Parsley) and I playing "Pass the Booze" while making inappropriate sexual comments and gestures to Emily while she was driving (the usual).

The cruise actually went by extremely fast. Maybe a little too fast. Maybe it wouldn't have had those 4 whiskey-and-cokes in an hour. Maybe if the bartender had put coke in the drinks. Maybe. But it was a beautiful day and we got some good photos and some interesting conversations.

Then of course since we were already near LaCrosse, we HAD to go to Dels for a bloody mary or two. Then we stumbled down third street for a bit and were pissed that a lot of these bars weren't open at 1:30 in the afternoon. What the Fuck! Are you people allergic to money!?!? We eventually landed at John's Bar and tied a few on.

Snap back to Winona. Since we were all hungry, we wanted somewhere with cheap beer, greasy food, and townie bar atmosphere... Of course we went to Schneeps. Tyler won $200 in White Man's Cocaine (aka Pulltabs) and we met up with Brejcha, Bubba, and the Asuncion. 

Oh I forgot to mention that this evening Flom came home from 5 months in Alaska. So we decided to celebrate by having a townie bar tour of Winona's Polish east end titled "The East Enderski Stumbleski". The catch was everyone had to add -ski to their name (Carlsonski, Bussski, Cilantroski) and if you fucked up you had to by yourself a shot and the other person calls it. It got out of hand rather quickly.

The Tour and notes:
Schneeps: Cheap bear, food, and conversation with 50-something women about vibrators.
Mankato Bar: Two pints and a rum and coke = $4. I love this fucking bar!
Poots: The bar went from 0 patrons to 20 instantly. Beer served in mason jars. I love this barrrrrrrrr. (Toby Keith)
Hei and Low: Back to Flom's old stomping grounds. It was fun singing jukebox songs over their hippie acoustic entertainment.
Dan's Dugout: Fuckin A'
Sloppy Joes: Don't exactly recall...

Also worthy of noting, Cilantro and Wayne were over at George's and decided he needed some air, so just stumbled out to the parking lot where he passed out... until 4:30 in the morning. LOL.


PART II: Homecoming... To Be continued (dun dun dun)

Heyo,

Long time no update I know. Been busy with Deltasig recruiting efforts, cleaning up the mess regarding the flood, and working on a new business idea. 

Real blog soon. 

Love blows.

 

I was pretty pleased that I was able to find the most relaxing spot in St. Mary's hospital. I had always wanted to know where the Meditation Room was up here on the seventh floor, but everytime I tried to follow the directional signs I always got turned around and never could find it by myself. Even though I could always see the mild green glow of the stained glass windows overlooking the courtyard it was always out of reach... until I asked the Mexican janitor in Spanish where it was and he told me... (not a strong start to the story but stfu).


True Colors
 I have come to find over this weekend that true character is NOT defined when times are good, it is very easy to put up a front about being a good natured person who truly cares about others... but when times are bad, very very bad, a person is truly shown for what they are. 
Are they everything that they say they are?
When you are down, out, and it feels like every other day God is kicking you in the sack is when your true colors are revealed. 

Case in point:
-It's really easy when times are good to say that your really care about your neighbors and those around you. Sure you may bake a plate of brownies for the local bake sale or bring over a pitcher of lemonade when your neighbors are putting up the new siding on their garage. Or always preach about how we need to stick together when times got tough (this was during good times btw).  That is Easy. 
-But what about when your neighbors have four feet of water in their basement and are trashing desperatly to try an salvage priceless memories that have taken a lifetime to build while your house sits undamaged on higher ground?
-If your really gave a shit about your fellow man you wouldn't have sat on your porch, sipped your morning coffee, and then ducked town while everyone around you was in their own personal hell. But that was the easy way out I guess. Not that I'm calling out some of my hypocrytical neighbors (<cough> fuck you), but I would just like to wish them good luck in trying to get to sleep at night.

On the other side of the coin
-I am still in awe of 99% of the populations empathy with each other. My mom and I went to a Red Cross shelter today and saw strangers helping strangers find warm clothes and get a hot meal, volunteers being escorted into towns to clear out debris and inspect homes, and everyone being extremely civil and kind even though some of them were just to hell and back. It's still awe inspiring.
-Also I sent out an email last night to my Brothers in Deltasig seeing if any of them wanted to kill their Friday and Saturday nights and show up at 6 AM Saturday to help dig my families lives out of our damaged basements. The response was immediate. Volunteers popped up like whoa, people who couldn't make it apologized profusely and offered to help out in other ways. It was a thing of beauty.
And I thank God more and more everyday for me joining this fantastic organization.

We Got Lucky
When I was walking through the basement yesterday, it basically looked like someone came in, knocked everything down, and put a thick layer of diarrhea over everything. The look and the stench was unbearable. I was mostly depressed by seeing photographs, appliances, and other items my parents had work so hard over the years to collect and afford, all laying there now in a pile of shit.
But we got lucky. Some people don't have homes to rebuild.

Right now I have six shirts (I bought a 6-pack of t-shirts) a pair of jeans and basically lost about 90% of my worldly possessions over the weekend. There are litterally hundreds if not thousands of people that would trade places with me right now in a heartbeat. 

Even though this may seem like a shitty situation, I truly thank God that my family is safe and we are left with what we have. It may not be much, but it's ours.


Sweet and the Sour
My favorite line from the movie Vanilla Sky is Jason Lee's character stating to Tom Cruise that "life is never as sweet without the sour". 
One thing I can take away from all that has happened over the past few months is that life will be the sweetest it has ever been since there has been so much shower. 
Just thinking how great it's going to be to:
~Getting wings on Wednesdays
~Cooking
~Shaving and bathing (REALLY looking forward to those)
~Having Deltasig back up and running again (which I have found is my rock)
~Eifel Towering a random girl in Schydes with Iverson (okay, maybe a little too much info)
~Hell just getting a beer with the guys
These are things that I took for granted but never will again. The will be extremely sweet. 


Tomarrow, the day after, and the day after that are all going to be good days. :)

Prost!

Going to bed, passing out rather, after the reception of my cousin Ben's wedding last night I could have never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be right here, right now.

Right here is in front of a Mayo Clinic computer in a family lounge at St. Mary's Hospital (the same one where my Dad is currently at) and right now is 11:37 PM on Sunday August 19th, 2007, the longest day of my and a lot of people's lives. 
My feet are cold, wet, and itchy. 
I have dime sized blisters creeping up my calves from running around in waders all day. 
I'm wearing a pair of Pumas from 9th grade, two sizes too small, because they were the only dry shoes in the house. 
My knees ache. My head hurts. 
I've had half a turkey sandwich, a cup of coffee, and about a dozen red bulls today. 
This uncomfortable lounge couch may not seem like much, but right now this is my nirvana.
Let's just start this shit from the beginning...

Over the past couple months I have this recurring dream about drowing. No matter how much I struggle or swim I can never reach the air. I usually wake up in a cold sweat thinking it was actually real (I have very vivid dreams with is both entertaining and extremely fucked up). But this time instead of waking and realizing it was all a dream, I was surrounded by about three feet of Root River cocktail (two parts river water one part raw sewage). It was the second time in twenty-two years that I was actually scared for my life. Think about it. It's pitch black (electricity was gone by then), you can hear water just pouring into the room, it smells like the inside of a porta-potty they forgot to pick up from the county fair. I could hear my mom having a coniption (sp?... actually i don't even think it's a word) and I can see flashlights from the stairway. So I hop feet first into the shit, grab whatever I can in the dark (a few ruined dress shirts, my laptop which is now a $500 paperweight, and a couple of cook books). As I make my way towards the light I also grab my Deltasig box which is somehow floating right near the stairs (coincidence? divine internvention? dumb luck?).

Up the stairs, soaked in shit, grab the waders, a hoodie, and a raincoat and head out to help the neighbors. At this point I'm already sure this day is going to be long and FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition). We go around and make sure the neighbors have all of their valuables secured and in a dry place (ours were already gone). The trailer park below us was completely submerged. People, including children and infants, straddled the top of the trailers waiting for one of the canoers to paddle by and float them to dry land (which there wasn't a whole hell of a lot). I dragged my bike up from the basement because it was getting light out and I wanted to see the town for myself.

When the creek flooded it basically divided the town into three impossible to reach sections. Stevens Ave (my hood), Brookyln/Tyrol Hills, and North Rushford. And wouldn't you know it my grandma lives in North Rushford and my cousin and her two kids were stuck in Tyrol Hills. No electricity, no cell phone service, no idea where they are or how they are doing as of this time. 
I biked to the school where the Red Cross was already setting up operations. I could see that parts of Hwy-42 headed to Winona were under at least three feet of water. The dikes that were supposed to keep flood water contained overflowed like Nick at the Vu (that's right Asuncion, burn!) 
Hoards of people were huddled in the school. Cold, hungry, homeless. I had my camera with me, but these are not the memories you want to keep. These are not fucking Kodak Moments.

When I got back to the house I was told to wade into the basement to turn off the main breaker on the SEP panel. The shit is still about waist deep. But what really got to me was that by now everything was floating on top of said shit. Ruined family photos, my Grandpa's letterjacket, my DSP diploma (really pissed off about that btw), the world's most comfortable couch, washer, dryer, furnace, all that stuff, Destroyed. After I flipped the breaker I threw up for the first time in five years that wasn't alcohol related. I felt absolutly horrible that everything that all of these working class people (the neighborhood) was gone in a flash of a flood. It made me ill.

It then became a blur. I remember driving to Chatfield and Rochester for cases of water, dry goods, flashlights, lanterns, and golashes. But I really don't remember the trips too much. Honestly I was just trying to keep my mind elsewhere. Maybe this was just a horrible, horrible dream that we were all having and we would just snap out of it. To keep my mind occupied I actually listened to very word to country songs on the radio. I now realize that they are the worst written songs in the history of mankind and that Kenny Chesney is a douchebag.

When we got back with supplies and handed them out, we were told that the National Guard was going to come through and evacuate. So now we're in Rochesterian Refugees, still don't know where the rest of the family is, and pretty much stripped of everything (possessions, pride, stamina) but our spirits. That is something no amount of water, wind, or whatever else God can conjure up, that can never be taken away.


But there were some beautiful displays of the human spirit today. The local grocery store was sending cartloads upon cartloads of free food over to the Red Cross station who were cooking them up as fast as they could for people who hadn't had a hot meal or any meal for that matter since the waters began to rise. I saw people of all different social and economic backgrounds lending a hand to each other in times of need. Complete strangers helping carry other family's heirlooms and priceless possessions from basements to safety. People caring for other people; not because they have the same income or play golf together, not because they share afternoon tea, but because everyone was affected by this and everyone hurt. It's a shame that it takes an event of this magnitude to bring out the best in people, but brought it out it did. 



After I told a lot of people about today, one of my close friends refered to me as Job from the Book of Job, due to all the unfortunate events that have seemingly come one right after the other this past year.
 Job was true believer in God. God decided to test Job's faith. He took away his wife, his children, his health, his possessions... and still Job held on to his faith and chose to remain strong and never break.

For those of you who may not know me or my family, I just want to put this message out there...

No one will ever break me, my family, or our faith. Not even God himself.