Big Times, Rant and Lettin' a Playa' Play

Monday, June 20, 2005

Continuing with the awesomeness that is the DC Conspiracy blog, Chris Piers is now dropping a column called Ready for the Big Time, this week’s article focusing on portfolio reviews. Add that to Matt Dembicki’s The Small Presser and my very own Here’s the Thing… and you have some quality resources going down at the DCC. I finished my article for this week and it’s guaranteed to raise a few objections and quite possibly piss off a few people. But it’s the truth, dammit, and the truth cannot be silenced. Unless, of course, the American media just doesn’t cover it…

Ok, one quick rant and then story time. The Downing Street memo. Big news. Really big news. Impeachment news. I’ve only seen it on Yahoo so far and the memo was published in May. And on Yahoo, they have that “rate the news” feature now – it’s rated at 2-stars by you, the audience. It’s a fine report. It’s the truth. But guess what? We don’t like the truth. The Tom Cruise/Katy Holmes report – 4-stars. What the fuck is up with rating news anyway? Going to hell…we’re all going to hell…

_______________

My friends and I used to go on dates with girls in elementary school. Ten, eleven years old and we’d pass a note to a girl we thought was cute that said, “Do you want to go out with me?” It would have a yes/no check-box. If she liked you, she’d check “yes”. If not, she’d check “no”. If she didn’t like you but didn’t want to be mean, she’d add the “maybe” box and check that. Nothing was worse than the “maybe” box mainly because kids our age pretty much ran out of material once we passed the note – we didn’t know how to pursue. The “maybe” resulted in us fretting for a day and then passing a new note to a new girl.

I got paired up with a girl named Christina Rodriguez since the second grade, pretty much. The elementary school logic was: Christina and I made sense; if we ever got married she wouldn’t have to change her last name. And just like that I got my elementary school partner.

We’d pass notes in class and be partners in the field-day water-balloon toss, all standard partner stuff. And, of course, we’d occasionally go on dates.

A date consisted of all of Christina’s friends and all of my friends going to Molar Pizza. The guys would sit at one table, the girls at another. In between the two tables, Christina and I would sit at our own table but positioned in such a way that all we would need to do is turn around to talk to our friends. This was standard, pre-sixth grade date set-up. The guy and the girl that are on the date together wouldn’t even talk to each other, they’d split some mozzarella sticks, have a slice of pizza and spend the entire lunch turned around and talking to their friends.

If the girl kept checking the “yes” box you were obligated to buy her the fake-diamond earrings they sold at the craft festival every year – shell out the five bucks, leaving you with fifty cents for a cupcake and four-fifty for a mother’s day gift. You give her the earrings and she says they’re beautiful and hopefully throws them away when you’re not looking, those things would have probably given her an infection.

In the sixth grade things got harder. We no-longer did buddy-system dates. The guy and the girl went out alone to Molar Pizza.

Alone.

I went on my first sixth grade date with none-other than Christina Rodriguez. I was so nervous. We walked to Molar Pizza and didn’t say a word. Got some pizza and some mozzarella sticks and didn’t say a word. We started walking home and I have yet to say a single word to this girl, totally hosed the date and knew that it would be my last one if I didn’t say something soon. I finally opened my mouth and talked and I will never forget the conversation we had.

“So, I heard you got a Nintendo.”

“Yeah.”

“What games did you get?”

“Anticipation.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“I want a power pad.”

“Yeah. Those are cool.”

We then went into the schoolyard, date over.

Play on, playa’.

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