Mobert Blog

2007-11-10T10:22:00.001-05:00

mobert's dance lessons, volume one:

2007-11-05T22:46:00.000-05:00

transformers

directed by michael bay

optimus prime bumblebee jazz ratchet ironhide megatron starscream barricade bonecrusher megan fox shia laboeuf josh duhamel tyrese jon voight john turturro

first off, i wanna give a shoutout to tony pierce because i borrowed the format that he uses to do reviews because its the best and the busblog rules.

every kid growing up watched the cartoon transformers. every kid who watched that show always always thought man, how cool would it be if there were live transformers like walking around, saving the world and shit? toy companies played on this desire by marketing masses of action figures based on the autobots and decepticons, but only modern movie technology and blow em up maestro michael bay (armageddon, bad boys) has been able to truly bring them to life. when it comes to finally seeing cars and trucks and tanks and fighter jets transform into giant battling robots, this film does not disappoint.

one of the best things about the infusion of futuristic graphics into a cartoon institution like transformers is the complexity of the transformations and their interactions with real live human beings. as i remember, the cartoon transformers usually just sort of fell apart, then rebuilt themselves into huge ass two legged robots. in the movie, the viewer gets to see all the moving parts while they transform, and while the transformers are in humaniod form. very very cool.

much has been made about the fact that all of the autobots (the good guys) were gm vehicles, including a camaro concept, a pontiac solstice, and hummer h2, while all of the decepticons (the bad guys) were ford vehicles, most notably a saleen hotrodded mustang cop car. coincidence? actually, yeah. in the original cartoon, the original characters

no one who paid money to see this movie paid to see twentysomething shia laboeuf play a high school sophomore, and he really isnt worth watching in most of the films in which he appears. the one human in this movie worth your money is the above picture megan fox. get this, she plays a chick who knows cars. if she can cook a sandwich and throw a football, i say close the ballots for the perfect woman, cuz we have a winner.

very entertaining movie. two thumbs up.

2007-10-30T22:55:00.000-05:00

this must be what going to work hung over feels like:

ouch.

2007-10-22T21:43:00.000-05:00

let me start by saying this: i am in no way a baseball fan. its been well documented here all the ways i actually hate baseball. having said that, im going to admit that ive been watching baseball on tv.

even when there were perfectly good nhl and college football games on. sometimes on the same tv.

they were games 5 and 7 of the american league championship series, otherwise known as the alcs for the phonetically challenged known as baseball fans. the reason i was drawn into watching game four was a guy named josh beckett. his performance in this game was the stuff of legends, the stuff of postseason lore that little kids will get to tell their grandkids about in 50 years. as in, "grandpa, did you really see beckett single handedly win the pennant?"

check out this line: 8 innings, 1 run, 11 strikeouts. in a crucial playoff game with your team down in the series. in baseball, thats called a nice outing. in the real sports world, thats called clutch. thats kobe hittin a fadeaway three at the buzzer. thats a 80 yard touchdown drive in the fourth quarter two minute drill to win the super bowl.

and while all these are apt comparisons, beckett also had to wade thru the type of bullshit that only baseball could come up with. after flying out against beckett, eighty seven year old punk ass bitch kenny lofton decided to start talk shit and run at the mound. really? after getting out? do you see wide receivers yelling at the corner after dropping a pass? only in baseball.

even before the lofton debacle, the cleveland indians decided they wanted to try and get clever. they hired country artist danielle peck to sing the national anthem. peck just happens to be becketts ex girlfriend. there were many whispers about the indians intentionally trying to rattle beckett by going with peck, but we all saw how well that worked out. beckett had a nice little fuck you to the team he just beat:

"I don't get paid to make those fucking decisions. She's a friend of mine, so it doesn't bother me at all. Thanks for flying one of my friends to the game so she could watch it for free."

that is the snarl of a true competitor. in a sport so lacking in athleticism, grit or the desire to win championships before all other goals, beckett's elevates himself above the sludge of overweight overpaid boys playing catch with a man of a game. i would hate to be the rockies right now.

2007-10-19T20:49:00.000-05:00

it was genghis khan a bazillion years ago that said:

"The greatest joy a man can know is to conquer his enemies and drive them before him. To ride their horses and take away their possessions. To see the faces of those who were dear to them bedewed with tears and to clasp their wives and daughters in his arms."

most of the reason why khan was such a terror on the lands of asia for such a long time was that he was very in touch with the ruthless, aggressive ambitions of man. he didnt just want power and glory and possessions, but he wanted yours, and to take them from you, kill you, maim your dead body, stand over your remains and regal in his success. khan maybe have understood, more so than any else in history, the nature of man to covet those things that belong to others.

maybe the burning bush on mount sinai understand the nature of man too, and thats why it told moses not to covet his neighbors wife.

because ultimately, in modern times, it is the coveting of someone elses women that defines the modern man's need to take. its why the plight of the tragic male hero on all the tv shows is the guy who wants the girls hes not supposed to have. case in point: greys anatomy, beverly hills 90210, sex in the city, and various others.

so the point of all this ranting above is that it is natural for humans to want to fuck someone theyre not supposed to want to fuck. this realization applies in all situations.

your friends girlfriend

your coworker

your boss's wife.

your neighbor.

these are all people you probably shouldnt sleep with for a multitude of reasons. does that mean you wont want to? no. does that mean you shouldnt want to? again no. people need to realize that you should fuck who you want, when you want, regardless of where they live, where they work, who theyre married to or how much they make. at the end of the day, its natural selection. everyone is free game, let the chips fall where they may.

for fucks sake

2007-10-16T23:19:00.000-05:00

its almost a sure thing that any blogger who keeps their identity hidden at some point becomes an international man of mystery. as we know from our austin powers movies, this status is a good thing. getting liz hurley and heather graham naked in consecutive films requires said international man of mystery status (but not for beyonce, though. she was a step down). for example, i told the bouncer at a very trendy nightclub recently that my name was on his guest list, just look for middle name danger. he laughed and took down the rope for my blonde and i without so much as a second glance.

like i said, a very good thing, indeed.

there are few requirements for attaining the level of international man of mystery status. one must be international. one must have mystery follow you around like a lost puppy. and one must be a man. now, the perks resultant of these simple but profound requirements are various and sundry.

this is a good thing about being global and being mysterious. the bad things would be maintaining these two aspects of the blogger life. being international means bringing the fans back again and again with stories of dangerous superhero missions in foreign lands. being mysterious means bringing in new fans with stories of bedding hot babes around the world.

my, what a quandary.

and for a while at least, this quandary was what i went to bed thinking, what i awoke thinking, hell sometimes even what i pondered while checking out girls asses at the mall. and then the realization hit me that, due to some major changes in my blogging form and fashion, my identity may not be so hidden much longer. consider the following:

- i have published actual photographs of my real face

- i have published actual photographs of women i have really slept with

these facts are cause for concern. surely, the real life me would be recognized by some other real life person reading this blog. surely that real life person would tell other real life people. or, alternately, someone would recognize a woman i have slept with. and with how the world tends to work, that someone would just happen to be someone i am currently sleeping with.

to put it lightly, that never goes over very well.

however, even with the above two facts, the status of 'international man of mystery' might still be within reach. basement dwellers and star wars geeks must have some model to aspire to, and all those drunk and hot girls that kanye west sings about must have a visualization of who they will be gold-digging on.

so even though i have uncovered my face to the world, this international man of mystery will still travel the world, fight crime and always, always get the gorgeous girl.

yeah baby.

2007-10-15T20:04:00.000-05:00

so im sitting in front of my tv, watching monday night football, and i cant help but to think that the nice little juke jerious norwood put on some defender looked a lot like this girl i met in las vegas last weekend who likes to dance. a cute blonde thing, wearing a dress shinier than kanye's jesus piece, she drank cristal like it was her job. depending on who you ask, it actually is her job, which explains why she was two bottles ahead.

its cheaper than jaeger, she says.

ive got scotch, but i like jaeger too i say. how much does jaeger run.

she laughs. if you have to ask, stick to the scotch.

she dances by herself. her favorite spot is in front of a glass railing, which separates a raised vip balcony-type deal from the lay people on the dance floor below. all those people in the picture arent really trying to take pictures of her, theyre trying to time the air vents just right and steal a look through the glass up her dress. now those pics might make it onto a site like tmz or smoking gun or people magazine even, but that doesnt mean they amount to much. how much good are panties when theyre still on the girl? what really matters is not whats between her legs, but whats between her ears.

you know, like her hopes and aspirations.

shes five bottles deep and sharing now. she tells me about her upcoming trip to rwanda and how shes so excited and has to pack and needs some good music to listen to on the flight over. i laugh so hard a little fizz comes out of my nose.

why is that funny, she says.

i have a hard time imagining you amongst the people of rwanda. i say

well i am going, she says. why dont you believe me?

i turn and look at her with a grin.

because lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, i say.

but its more fun she does.

shes smiles, really big like little girls do when you ask them how old they are.

i like to have fun, she says.

2007-06-10T22:36:00.000-05:00

how to be my kind of woman, by mosephus jones.

if you drink wine at a bar, you are not my kind of woman.

if you are holding hands with anybody at the bar, you are not by kind of woman.

if the color of your drink matches the color of your a) shirt b) shoes c) nail polish, you are definitely not by kind of woman.

if you dance by yourself, you are not by kind of woman.

if you dance with a bar stool, you are not my kind of woman.

if you go to a bar to hang out with a barkeep, you are not by kind of woman.

if you shamelessly fake sexual interest in the owner of a club, just so you dont have to pay cover cuz you think you are better than everyone you just skipped in line, trust me, you are not anyones kind of woman.

if you think porn is gross, you are not my kind of woman.

if you cannot recite three lines each from the Godfather part uno, goodfellas, and scarface, you are not my kind of woman.

if you havent seen all of the above listed movies, plus Godfather part deux and every other scorsese film ever made, you should kick yourself in the head.

oh, and you are not my kind of woman.

if you are more like natalie portman's character in Closer than julia roberts' character in Closer, you are not my kind of woman.

if you cannot handle a guy calling you out for being a stuckup bratty bitch, you lack a sense of humor and are a golddigger.

if you are a golddigger, you are not my kind of woman.

if you lack a sense of humor, then life sucks cuz nothings funny.

if you are the hottest thirty five year old, mother-of-two adult film actress in the world, and you personally handcrafted one of the best wines in the world.

woah, man. you are my kind of woman.

2007-03-26T23:30:00.000-05:00

from reader mail:

dear mobert,

where the fuck you been man? three months and no posts? do you know how much shit can go down in three months? i think you should post some pics or something to prove to the world that your still alive.

holla back,
reader.

dear reader,

i must admit, i am astounding at your unique mix of annoyance and eloquent curiosity. to make up for lost time (which i tend to do alot of), i will oblige you on two fronts. the first, you'll notice, is a new link to the left to the left entitled mo'pics. there you will find photographic evidence of not only what, but who ive been doing over the past three monthes.

on the second front, i have complied a list of my whereabouts and various and sundry doings during the last monthes, because lists are the keep is simple stupid way of blogging. here goes:

things that happen in three monthes:
- movies viewed= forty-one
- movies recommended for viewing= three
- those movies are= traffic, the departed, casino royale
- one coworker gots knocked up
- one coworker got divorced
- neither happened because of me
- i swear.
- two victories over dook
- one dook player leaves
- one loss in the tournament
- zero correct picks for the final four
- twenty dollars lost because of said pics
- number of times i make it rain a week: 2.6
- number of 50+ pt games for kobe = 5
- number of 50+ pt gains for mobert = 6
- number of dollars made of said gains = enough to make it rain on dem ho's
- trips to: chapel hill, raleigh, st troupe, myrtle beach.
- number of late night queen city hot dogs eaten = 451
- number of timeout chicken biscuits eaten = 2
- number of times "where's hectors" was asked = 1
- number of pics on Mo'Pics = 70
- number to come = infinite
- number of mobert posts in the last two years = 48
- number of mobert posts in the last three monthes = one

enjoy

1. work in paradise 2. best cheerleader pic 3. rip jason ray

2006-12-21T21:23:00.000-05:00

truth and rumors:

-allen iverson, who's contract with the sixers did not have a no-trade clause, verbally nixed a deal to the bobcats because he couldnt get on the list for a swanky new condo in downtown queen city.

-greg oden's actual birthday is 4-20-1960, which makes him forty-six years old.

-mobert will make an appearance in chapel hill sometime between december 22 and january 2.

-mobert's hot corporate trainer likes guys in cowboy hats. do not ask how he knows this, that information is confidential.

-the most overheard line at headquarters is "if the record's two mil, im just tryna do three."

-fidelity national financial company (FNF) is currently being investigated by the SEC for multiple offenses, including insider trading within its funds, accepting improper gifts from other brokers, and misrepresenting 401(k) fees to its institutional clients.

-the title track to jay-z's new album kingdom come contains a sample from "superfreak" by rick james.

-dook's highly touted freshman guard jon scheyer once scored twenty one points during a one minute thirty second span in a high school game. what dickie v always fails to mention is that twelve of those points came on free throw attempts.

-no one gossips at headquarters because there is no water cooler.

-the queen city brokers fantasy basketball team is current first overall, two games clear of second place thugged out. however, recent injuires to dirk and lamar odom will test this team's depth and resolve in the coming weeks.

-dook backup point guard josh mcroberts has a $400 a day speed habit. he thinks its only four dollars a day because he is also dyslexic.

--between hilary, obama, and john edwards, mobert endorses the non-white illinois senator.

-mobert endorses john mccain over anyone else.

suze orman, self-professed financial know-it-all and mediocre author at best, has a BA in social work, not economics or finance or business or math even. she does not have any post secondary education, and does not hold any NASD licenses.

-crutchfield capital llc, a private equity firm in queen city, is working on a deal to buy facebook. details are forthcoming.

-crutchfield capital is recruiting mobert very heavily because they believe he will "make them a shitload of money" according to a reliable source.

-bobcats rookie adam morrison only showers once a week.

-the north carolina tar heels could probably beat the charlotte bobcats.

1.trade stocks for free. 2. when bad gifts attack. 3. ford has better credit than you.

2006-11-14T01:04:00.000-05:00

the queen city observer made its first report of the day concerning unusual activities with its weather forecast. the afternoon high temperature in queen city on monday, november thirteenth two thousand and six would be up very close to eighty degrees farenheit. unseasonably warm for the middle of autumn, even south of mason dixon. the observer soon followed with more. downtown queen city traffic would be very packed around seven and eight pm eastern time due to a number of planned events, all of which would take place within blocks of each other.

a motivational conference at the newly minted bobcats arena.

a contemporary jazz art festival at the local art institute.

and some ball game. with some cheerleaders.

to help aleviate the traffic pressures, a number of downtown businesses sent their employees home early, so as to start rush hour traffic at three pm rather than four pm, adding considerable commute time to all. so when i got home from work in a record twelve minutes and thirty six seconds door to door, i began to wonder. what was happening? what is going on? and thus began the alignment of the stars that resulted in a very good night in the state of north carolina.

consider this:

- the carolina panthers, having scored no points in the first half of their monday night game versus the tampa bay suckaneers, scored twenty four in the second half. a touchdown each to brad hoover, steve smith, and keyshawn johnson. carnel and galloway? not so much.

- hours earlier, the univeristy of north carolina announced butch davis as the new head football coach. if you dont know who butch davis is, you can google him. just type in ncaa football championship.

- hours later, the univeristy of north carolina mens basketball team will begin its regular season play against sacred heart. this is the same mens basketball team that scored one hundred and forty points in its final exhibition on saturday night against pfeiffer. their are nba teams who regularly take the better part of three games to score 140 points. the over/under for unc's matchup against winthrop in the first round of the nit tip off: 274.2 points. ill take the over.

- speaking of the nba, former dook player and orlando magic first round draft pick jj reddick was a healthy scratch. again. reddick has not played a single game for orlando this season. in related news, the magic beat the celtics 92-89.

and with a feast awaiting at headquarters in the morning, a good day in north carolina becomes a good night under the stars. heres to more days like today and more nights of the same.

man i love this place.

2006-10-22T23:07:00.000-05:00

miami trip, day two: day two started off much better than day one. the last cab ride for the week lasted a whole twelve point six five minutes. the distance between miami international airport and the orange bowl does not take that long to drive, mind you, but the state of florida decided to start construction on some roadways surrounding the airport a few months back. big ups in traffic delays, not big ups in actually getting shit done. to this day, there are piles of dirt and concrete waiting on the side of the onramps, chillin' out, maxin', relaxin' all cool. awesome.

the cab let me out at the n2 lot on seventh street northwest, the swanky lot were the old tanned rich miami folk park for the football games. i took two steps out of the car and started dripping. wasnt sure if it was sweat or my skin actually melting off my bones but one things for sure; miami is fucking hot, the kind of hot that could liquify a newspaper out in the street down to a woody pulpy black inky mess.

its a good thing i brough two carolina tshirts but damn, coulda used some sunglasses. not that they would shield mine eyes from the horrendous performance the tar heels pucked up at the orange bowl that day. the offensive line was almost as rickety and roughshod as the orange bowl itself, with is rusty creaky seafoam green support beams and the afghan taliban cave access tunnels. the whole time i stood in the stands i just wondered how such a football institution like da u could possibly play at such a decrepit excuse for a stadium. kenan may not have seen as many wins or as many great players, but at least the student body didnt fear for their lives when walking up the steps. and we didnt have hideous forest green and neon orange as our colors.

the only good thing that came out of representing the tar heels at the orange bowl were the introductions. mobert the tourist was gonna have a good time tonight, and we all know that good times start with introductions. some of them went like this.

gdot says: yo mobert. this is sloan. sloan, mobert.

mobert says: hi sloan. its a pleasure.

sloan says: same here mobert. you ready to party tonight?

mobert says: thats why im here.

needless to say, this is a good question to be asked when you first meet someone.

gdot says: hey tori. this is mobert, that guy ive been telling you about. mobert, tori.

tori says: hi mobert. you look really familiar, dont i know you from somewhere?

mobert says: no, but i get that all the time.

probably the easiest line in the book, but both gdot and tori cracked up when i dropped that gem. mobert goes two for two on introductions. things are shaping up for tonight.

the cool part of miami is that its really flat. the biggest hill i walked up all day was from the low tide on south beach. the roads are straight and fast and people drive crazy so you get where youre going. the other cool thing is that, for such a huge city with so much stuff packed into it, its not cramped and its definitely not urban. you walk down the side of the street in miami beach, and on one side theres the beach, and on the other side is a sidewalk. the sidewalk basically walks through the back porches of all the hotels and restaurants and bars that run endless along the street. you see the miami style in the architecture too. everywhere you go its art deco hotel here, pastel stucco million dollar house there. the landscape here is so different from anything anywhere that when you see a guy doing laps around the versace mansion in a white lamborghini, you dont even blink.

gdot's crib is right near sunset place, an outdoor/indoor strip mall hangout sort of place. it was where the high school kids hung out after dark, and where the kids arcade and adults sports bar were the same place. not anything nearly the ritzyness of bal harbour or anything like that, but serviceable places of businesses nonetheless. the three of us, gdot, mike and myself went to a place called town kitchen and bar for dinner. looked like a hot spot on the inside, but the service was horrendous. didnt get waited on for like thirty minutes. food was the bomb diggity, but lets just say the guy didnt get a very big tip.

after dinner went something like this: drink, call girls, repeat.

the cab ride from south miami to south beach is half the fun of going out. you get on the causeway right near downtown, where the heat play and the big buildings are. the causeway stretches over the water, where youve got star island on one side, and the bay on the other side. theres a spectacular view of downtown just past the bay, and you can sometimes see the huge ass cruise ships in the water. youre almost sad that the ride is over when you finally get to south beach but not really cuz you in south beach. let the party begin.

now between the mojitos and various other liquors, the details are a little fuzzy, but the following events took place somtime between twelve am and four am:

- walked down collins ave along with thousands of other people.
- saw the hotel from scarface.
- did not get carded.
- anywhere.
- reminisce with tori about high school.
- walk faster than everyone else.
- walk across oncoming traffic and not give a fuck.
- saw expensive cars and scoffed.
- walked into a hotel bar
- saw a girl my sisters age making out with a guy my fathers age.
- be amazed by the ridiculousness of said hotel.
- get to the outdoor bar in the backyard and be even more amazed.
- take shots.
- take more shots.
- lie down in one of the beds (yes, beds) and pass out.
- sit in a bungalow and wait for bottle service.
- close out a $60 tab.
- twice.
- go across the street and walk on the beach.
- chill out on the beach at three am.
- watch and laugh while sloan's friend goes in the water.
- fully clothed.
- go to a late night cuban restaurant where the waiters dont even speak english and order a grilled cheese sandwich.
- be drunk and tired on the ride home.
- pass out and wait for day three.

day two ending sometime around five am. its seems like day three had a big performance to follow. in a few hours, we'd find out.

2006-10-09T22:40:00.000-05:00

miami trip, day one: so my four day trip to miami started off without a hitch. and by without a hitch, i mean waiting for a cab to the airport for an hour and a half and missing my flight. as i pulled up to the terminal, im pretty sure i saw the actual plane i was supposed to be on taking off from the airport into the late evening sky.

awesome. just fucking awesome.

oh wait, it gets better. you dont go through the self check-in at the counter when youve missed your flight, so i got to stand in line and wait to speak to a human being. our conversation went a little something like this.

no theres not a later flight

yes, we understand that cab drivers are jackasses, but theres nothing we can do about that.

the next flight takes off tomorrow morning twenty minutes before kickoff.

so at this point, i am extremely incensed as to my situation, to the extent that every single little thing about existence irritates me. the next thirty minutes or so went like this.

jeezus, how can it be cold enough to need a jacket. dammit now i cant even go out and get drunk tonight. holy crap, this is the most unnecessary cab ride ever.

back at my apartment after the second shitty cab tip of the day, i played some xbox and slept in my clothes, in anticipation of the real miami trip, day one, which would come much later than i thought.

2006-09-23T16:03:00.000-05:00

ive been watching a lot of football lately, and i cant decide who to pick.

erin andrews or bonnie bernstein?
who would you take?

2006-09-05T23:21:00.000-05:00

it's another hot night, dry and windless. the kind that makes people do sweaty, secret things.

i wait and i listen.

for a while it's as quiet as it gets here. coyote calls from the hills. police sirens, rising, falling, cutting through the traffic's white noise roar.

i hear the jangle of the keys at the door as she comes in...

she glides out of her coat like it was christmas wrapping. playing it for all it's worth. and it's worth plenty. shes got the kind of figure you notice.

its her voice that spoils everything.

a little girls voice, all squeaky and mousy and bubbly and bouncy with false innocence.

i get everything i need.

then can i have a ride? she asks, using her real voice this time, a voice thats left innocence a lifetime behind.

i take redondo over the hill toward old town. it takes longer that way, but i figure she could use the time to settle down. at first all she can do is sob and blow her nose and smoke cigarettes.

she smokes six cigarettes.

the last i see of her, shes fixed her makeup and shes sauntering away, tossing me a wave and wink.

then she blends into the sea of flesh that is old town.

old town. where beauty is cheap provided all you want to do is look. but if youre ready to pay, you can have anything you can imagine.

i hold tight to the wheel to keep my hands from shaking. i pull out and cut back over the hill. out. away.

the damn old town memories, of drunken mornings and sweaty sex and stupid bloody brawls.

you cant just pick and choose. you cant take the good without the bad.

ive got the radio tuned to some lonely hearts talk show, but im not listening. one more time, i sort through the broken pieces of my past. and like always, they come together to form the same, sorry picture.

i think about all the ways ive screwed up and what id give for one clear chance to wipe the slate clean. to dig my way out of the numb, grey hell ive made of my life.

id give anything.

ring!

hello?

is that you?

her.

im sorry to call. i know ive got no right. but i need to see you. tonight. please, dont hang up. please.

she keeps talking.

and like and idiot, i keep listening.

her.
damn.

I should tell her to go to hell, instead i give myself a shave i dont need and i show up twenty minutes early.

her.
damn.

what the hell could she want with me now?

you cant drive two blocks in this city without coming across a saloon. this one's a country joint, the bad kind.

its not the kind of place id expect her to know about, let alone go to.

i grab myself one last lungful of night air, then i trade it in for a smoky soup spiced with sweat and vomit and booze and blood.

i know the flavor well.

why here? its not like you. no, with you everything alway had to be first class. all the way. and when i couldnt foot the bill, you sure as hell found somebody who could.

i order up a ginger ale and stare at it for the better part of an hour. shes late, like she always was.

and like always, shes worth the wait.

she asks for some kind of scotch nobodys ever heard of, then settles for what they have. not like her to drink hard stuff. the cigarettes are a surprise too. used to be she couldnt stand the sight of them.

she moves close, all vulnerable, a deer caught in the headlights.

ive got places to go. just tell me what you want.

i must still mean something to you.

no reason at all to be nice about it. not after what you did to me.

i was wrong darling! wrong!

you made your bed. sleep in it.

forgive me, darling. i beg you...

she leans over, but i pull back.

you do that again and i swear to hell...

never mind then, its too late. ill go.

she gets in her car and it drives off.

buddy, i dont mean to poke my nose in where it dont belong, but that there is a dame to kill for. whyd you let her go?

the night air hasnt gotten any colder

it just feels that way.

her.

damn!

- Frank Miller's Sin City: A Dame to Kill For #1, Special Edition.

2006-08-28T23:23:00.000-05:00

on friday afternoon somewhere in the midst of four forty five and five oh clock, i roll the windows down and blast guns and fucking roses on the drive home from work. its loud as shit, and all the little soccer moms and vice ceo's in their nazi sleds give me funny looks every time i pass in the right lane doing just a little over double the speed limit. they squint and crane around tan leather flip down sun visors, but all i see through dark tinted shades is an open road and a couple days off. ive never been scared of looking at the sun, but when youre behind the wheel its necessary to focus on whats important. this car is five and a half years of paper bags and clean ups on aisle six. the apartment to which i am driving home is eighty hours of making moves wearing a headset and a smile. this suit doesnt belong to me, it has some italian guys name on the inside. all i can do to promise i will try not to spill beer on it tonight.

somewhere in between west tyvola and fairview i come to the realization that this is my life, and that ive earned every inch of it. ive worked my ass off just for this day, this single, sweaty, end of summer night and million more coming up just beyond the sunset. worked, just for this cush job, for this cush city, for these cush ladies and for this cush money. i walk into places and say things like keep the change and gimme that on the wall without a second thought anymore. imagine me doing that two years ago and you might hurt your brain.

if that doesnt work, try to figure out why your girlfriend is getting in a cab with me. oh i think they like me, better yet i know. its lights camera action when i walk though the door. hell, even the girl who cuts my hair cant keep her hands off me. lets just say that she cuts my hair for free now. on the side, if you will.

somewhere in between when we were younger and where we are now, you wonder how things would turn out, how the real world would be, how living life would actually feel. now i never slang crack rock or had a wicked jump shot but this, this, i have to say, feels pretty damn good.

2006-08-17T00:57:00.000-05:00

cant sleep. must blog. a ten minute freestyle post in two verses.

readysetgo.

I.

clothing designers have a lot in common with gun manufacturers. yeah, i said it. tshirts and tech nines, if you will. it makes perfect sense. because either product can be used correctly or incorrectly, and people usually dont know the difference until someone gets hurt.

for example, smith and wesson wants as many people to buy as many guns as possible from them. at the end of the day, neither smith nor wesson gives two shits what those people do with those guns. the company will always claim ignorance and deny deny deny responsibility for any wrongdoing til the day they die. plausible in some cases, beyond a reasonable doubt in others.

II.

designers and other rulers of the fashion world hold the exact same position. lacoste claims no responsibility to the completely idiotic use of their idiotic embroidered animal logo. go ahead, misguided fourteen year old frat boy imposter, wear your hundred dollar pastel polo shirt with the dirtiest underwear length shorts you can find. throw your collar up. throw your croakies and let em fight with the collar, even though you never take your sunglasses off. the saddest part of this tragic opera is that big fashion rakes in their dollars while racking up their victims.

when pressed, both industries will hide behind the bill of rights. incorrectly, of course. the second amendment is prefaced by the phrase "a well armed militia, being necessary to the defense of the nation..." well, i dont know where you have been for the last hundred years, charlton heston, but a well armed unorganized, untrained domestic force of citizens is no longer necessary to the defense of the nation. consider your amendment null and void and, on another note, just cuz you made a movie about ancient times doesnt mean you have to live in them.
fashion victims will cite the first amendment's provisions for freedom of expression as their right to fund the unending river of high fashion blood money. this too is a bastardization of our Constitution. choosing clothing without the least bit of understanding or thought of what is 'stylish' or what is 'fashionable,' or the complete lack of creative contribution to these concepts disqualify the fashion victim's selections as ideas or theories or thought that could be protected. what you, the fashion victim, "express" in your clothing falls somewhere between headbutting a beach at high tide and screaming fire in a crowded movie theater.

strange bedfellows indeed.

2006-08-14T22:55:00.000-05:00

one year ago i got a letter back:

dear mr mobert danger jones,

i want you back. i dont want you to leave yet. id be a shame, after all those years, that things would have to end like this. i dont want to do the just few months a year only when you feel like it routine anymore. it does get old after a while, you know.

you the only one who ever understood me, who ever gave me the proper props. you always wrote about how everyone back in high school took me for granted and you were right. all the kids would sit by the pool and get tan and run around and try to be as crazy as they could be for three whole months out of the year and not once did they ever realize that their best years would be soon behind them and that i would be gone sooner then they thought.

people only miss me when theyre forty and stuck in a cubicle somewhere and daydreaming cuz they are bored. i heard theres a scientific term for it. i think its called computer screen depressive epilepsy, or something like that. but, you miss me even when im still here for you, and i can never thank you enough for that.

im the perfect companion. im warm, fun, easy on the eyes. i give you all the time and space in the world and dont ask for anything in return. what more could you want?

hell, throw and egg out on the street and ill fry it for you.

i know you have a job now, mobert, but that doesnt mean its more important than your life or your happiness. the money wont always be there, you know, and who wants to be the richest stiff in the graveyard anyway? i want you to know that no matter what happens, ill always be here for you, whenever you need me. just wait til the months start starting with jay and yoo and thats where youll find me.

love,
summer.

2006-08-08T22:41:00.000-05:00

one year ago i wrote a letter:

goodbye summer. i cant hang out with you anymore. its not allowed. i have to be grown up now and work and make money and shit like that. sorry.

job? yes summer i have a job now. if you wanna be so picky about it, it involves used cars and selling them. no, it doesnt pay well and no, i dont care.

yes, i know that you are the fucking shit summer. ive already blogged about that, a whole bunch of times. the only real cure for the aches of the world could only be a few months of you, summer. so many times that the old folks that dont get to hang out with you in june july and august anymore.

to be honest with you, i dont even know what im doing selling cars. ive never done it before, but after i turned in my application, sid's preowned vehickles called me back and said i was hired without so much as an interview or a care in the world. it was kinda weird, but i took it anyway.

i just need some energetic people who really wanna turn it up on sales, sid said. at the staff meeting he and the other managers were jumping up and down and being really silly in the hopes of looking like those energetic salesfolks. they didnt pull it off.

sid called the company goals 'non negotiables.' maybe its me, but that doesnt sound very positive and energetic and shit like that, but hey, ive been working here for two days and theres no way in hell im rocking the boat already. the discount is too damn good.

the job itself shouldnt be that hard though. i would imagine that its a lot like selling jeans or ice cream at the mall. get in the customers face as much as possible and ask open ended questions. at least thats the impression i got from orientation. i guess we'll find out.

so, again, im sorry summer. i have to put in a lot of hours in the next few weeks, so that means we're pretty much over.

goodbye.

2006-08-01T01:02:00.000-05:00

greg thinks doing these survey things make him a fifteen year old girl. he is wrong. clearly, he does not have a myspace and doesnt know any better. apparently neither do i.

BASICS

[my full name is]: Mobert Mosephus Danger Jones The Third

[my birthday is]: November Fif

[my age is]: wes miller, but bout to be michael jordan.

[my birthstone is]: something orange i think

[my horoscope is]: Scorpios fucking rule

[my zodiac is]: Scorpio. they fucking rule.

[my grade in school is]: 8th year senior.

[eye color]: Brown

[hair color]: Brown

[height]: bout 5'7 post haircut.

[weight]: thirty seven short.

[in the morning I am]: tired as fuck, but still well dressed.

[marital status]: gods gift to women. hows that.

[all I need is]: hbo

[love is]: all you need.

[if I could see one person right now]: the fine girl at the pool today. shiiiiiit.

[i dream about]: milk and cookies.

[could you live without the computer?]: sophomore year in college, i went for a full two months while my gateway was in the shop. when i moved into my apartment, i pulled another three week stint with no internet. go figure.

[my favorite color is]: Black

[my favorite animal is]: yo momma in the sack.

[my favorite food is]: whatever pops out the foreman grill.

[my favorite fruit is]: apples

[my favorite vegetable is]: lettuce. as in salads.

[what hurts the most? physical pain or emotional pain?]: Emotional

THIS OR THAT

[me/you]: who the fuck are you?

[Coke/Pepsi]: red bull

[day/night]: nocturnal like a damn owl.

[jeans/khakis]: the days of casual pants are over. suit pants + blazer

[car/truck]: cars with big engines and trucks with big rims.

[lunch/dinner]: Dinner

[silver/gold]: platinum duh

HAVE YOU EVER

[pictured your crush naked]: only with a camera.

[actually seen your crush naked]: only in the car.

[had sex]: only on the porch.

[imagined having sex]: only while having sex with another woman.

[been in love]: only wife of mine is a life of crime.

[fallen for your best friend]: nope, keep my enemies too close.

[been rejected]: rejection is for punks.

[rejected someone]: yeah, i just say "you got punked"

[used someone]: only women, but not all women.

[been kissed]: depends where

[been French kissed]: i got a french chick that loves to french kiss

[drank alcohol]: the judge said i shouldnt answer that.

[lied]: only when i talk.

[done something embarrassing]: my lawyer said i shouldnt answer that.

[skipped school]: my parole officer said i shouldnt answer that.

[wished you were someone else]: my mistress said i shouldnt answer that.

WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX

[what do you notice first?]: FBB. go watch alfie and youll know what i mean.

[what's the most you've done with a girl?]: you mean this week?

[what's the most you would do with a girl as of now?]: drink her booze and give her cab fare.

[last person you slow danced with]: my life size princess leia cutout.

[worst thing to say]: "You smell poor." One word: sorority. This wasn't said to me, but just comes to mind when i see "worst thing to say" (seconded, greg)

[tall or short]: short, like about waist height...

[scruffy or clean shaven face]: i want a woman who has to shave more than i do.

[hairy or smooth chest]: two words: areola fur

[eye color]: Any and all.

[hair color]: depends where.

[long or short hair]: again, depends where.

WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON

[you talked to on the phone]: parental unit.

[you hugged]: my life size molly ringwald cut out

[you kissed]: im sorry, i was really drunk. i dont remember her name.

[you instant messaged]: sarah.

[you laughed with]: the entourage from work.

HAVE YOU/ARE YOU/DO YOU

[have a crush on someone]: not sober.

[right/left handed]: right is might.

[smoke]: no, but ive been told my body does.

[obsessive]: nope, just compulsive.

[trust others way too easily]: trust no one.

FIRSTS

[first best friend]: my life size chewbacca cutout.

[first date]: went to see seven years in tibet starring brad pitt.

[first girlfriend]: my life size debbie gibson cutout.

[first kiss]: in the back corner of the snack bar at the skating rink.

[first job]: bagger at lowes foods. pretty soon, i was runnin that shit.

[first screen name]: fuckyoupayme1983

[first self purchased album]: skee lo "i wish." what you know aobut dat?

[first funeral]: brooks' mom.

[first pets]: dog julie.

[first piercing/tattoo]: upper ear in mexico. more coming.

[first enemy]: the kid in gym class that always called me names.

[first big trip]: Korea. news flash everyone: its just Korea. kim jong may have lost his damn mind, but officially, by declaration of the goverment, its just Korea. save all that north/south bullshit for the dakotas.

[first play/musical/performance]: in the shower with a bar of soap when i was eight.

LASTS

[last big car ride]: fifteen hour trip in thirteen hours to miami.

[last kiss]: my life size marilyn monroe cut out.

[last movie seen]: black hawk down.

[last beverage drank]: milk.

[last food consumed]: beef jerky and cheez itz.

[last phone call]: Think I answered this already.

[last shoes worn]: caramel johnson and murphy captoes. (better get yo shoe game up, greg)

[last item bought]: quiznos mesquite chicken sub.

[last soda drank]: red bull

[last ice cream eaten]: starbucks java chip.

[last shirt worn]: navy blue zoo york tee.

[last website visited]: the prosecutor said i shouldnt answer that.

FINAL QUESTIONS

[who has it easier-boys or girls?]: middle aged, married women.

[I want]: an xbox 360, dammit.

[I love]: paris in the springtime.

[I miss]: Carolina.

[I fear]: moths eating my suits.

[I hear]: my car alarm going off. fuck.

[I wonder]: when im gonna get that fixed. hmmmm...

2006-07-30T23:56:00.000-05:00

manufacture dissent. produce propaganda. be a mobert guest blogger.

express interest in the comments. see how far your word can go.

2006-07-27T00:01:00.000-05:00

1. time warner fucking cable guys have been to my house three times, and i still do not have a functioning modem.

2. respond to above statement with multiple wtf's and object throwing.

3. having no internet gives me plenty of time to clean up the bachelor pad.

4. plot and scheme big party.

5. hopefully old and retired neighbors wont mind.

6. for the next few weeks, i get paid to sit in a room and read a book for eight hours a day.

7. i think that if college went something like that, i woulda done better.

8. big belated bday props to the one and only g dot nice aka gregorypaige.

9. girls, if you think trying to fit into that hot new pair of jeans is hard work, try keepin yo ass skinny enough to put on a tailored suit. that shit is snug.

10. no, the pictures of women do not have anything to do with the posts. no, i will not stop posting them. tipper gore, please stop emailing me.

11. that is all.

2006-07-18T18:52:00.000-05:00

mobert and friends volume two. read on.

this is jane. jane used to work and an upscale clothiere at the mall called baby gap or something like that. she bought all her clothes there and thought she was real hot shit when she wore them. one day, we were both wearing jeans from her store and she noticed.

hey! i like your jeans! are they baby gap?

sure are, better than yours though.

what?! mine are baby gap too.

paid too much for them though.

umm, hello. employee discount.

umm hello. swap meet.

damn, good point.

the first time we hung out (not wearing baby gap jeans), we watched the sixth sense starring bruce willis and haley joel osment (remember him?) i proclaimed i had never seen it and she punched me in the face. she was surprised and in total disbelief that anyone on the planet earth would have never seen such a fine movie. even if mister em night is a formulaic racist suburban hack. it was pretty much the only choice though, cuz the only fine films she had were dont be a menace and beverly hills cop three.

jane told me to leave out the part about that night where she told me to come over to her place at 11 pm and she had already put away a bottle of five dollar wine. i told her yeah sure thing, itll be our little secret, no one will ever know.

har har, fat chance.

when i got home i was tired, but i wrote this in my other, secret blog:

she told me about how when she met me at that party over the summer and asked me for a cigarette that she was really drunk and doesnt usually smoke.

i said thats surprising, because youre body usually does.

she smiled. you know i really have class in a few hours.

and for a moment, the next day, walking through the new season on that crisp first day of spring, cool and dry with a sprinkle of march breeze, for the first time in a long time, it wasnt so bad.

2006-07-15T15:00:00.000-05:00

one year ago, i was living by myself:

when a person spends a good deal of time by themselves, they start out thinking that things are honky dory and that having some alone time is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

this person will do alot of things that they never had the chance to do when there were other people around like roommates and friends and the kind of drop dead gorgeous but desparately horny women that tend to spend the night every once in a while.

stay up till 4am.

sleep till 2pm.

drink beer at 2:10pm

drop a deuce with the door open.

watch porn with the sound turned all the way up.

but then, after doing all the fun stuff by yourself, as with all things, the novelty of the whole situation wears off. acutally, wears off is probably the wrong phrases for such a phenomenon. its more like a disappearing act in a poof of smoke than a slow erosion. one second, youre free from the prying eyes and the ignorant words of others, and the next second, youre alone.

but of course its really easy to see. after the first and second seasons of entourage! on dvd are over and youve put away a six pack by dinner time, all of a sudden you realize that, if you stand still and be vewy vewy quiet, you can hear the crickets really loudly.

its just like a scene from a movie. you know the one im talking about? the one where a person is talking and then boom! crickets and it emphasizes the fact that the actors are alone or its quiet or theres not shit going on around them.

my old roommate came into town on friday for the weekend. he makes his home in raleigh, but is working at a beach resort in the outer banks over the summer. he stayed at my place and we had a grand ol time. last night, a bunch of mutual friends came over to my humble abode and we drank lots of beer and played funny games with red plastic cups all night. its was fun to be around large numbers of people in my home, which hadnt happened in a while.

some how we made it up the big ass hill to franklin street, where all the bars and clubs are located in chapel hill. and even though there werent that many people out last night, it was a good time had by all. so good, in fact, that a total of four people crashed at my crib after all the fun was done. there was the old roommate, tomkat, his gf, poomba, the guy from virginia tech, elvis, and his curiously bubbly friend from durham, chewie. two on the couch, one on the futon, and one in a sleeping bag on the floor.

when they woke up in the morning, my house was a disaster area. cups everywhere, broken bottles, darts, ping pong balls. it was a mess, but my impromptu houseguests were the coolest people in the world and cleaned everything thing up.

when i got up and came downstairs a few hours later, i thought i was in someone elses house.

and then i realized i wasnt because, well

i was alone.

2006-07-10T12:38:00.000-05:00

ok, so yesterday i watched le copa mundial finale and it sucked. i saw the first two goals, fell asleep, woke up at the end of regulation, fell asleep, woke for penalty kicks.

oh, and there was a headbutt in there somewhere too.

as an american who doesnt watch much football, zizou's forehead beatdown of six foot four marco materazzi is kind of a curious end to what appeared to be a glorious career. while we dumb yankees may not understand the global significance of the world cup, i dont think that zidane's headbutt will define his career.

i mean, babe ruth hit a whole lotta home runs and had a 2.28 career era, but nobody remembers him as a fat drunken racist slob do they?

i was cheering for the english side the whole way, just cuz englands matches were the only ones with decent crowd shots. all the other games just featured a lot of face paint and flags and chickens and fat diego maradonas. i dont know about you, but any red blooded football fan would much rather see mrs posh spice beckham in fuck me silly boots. and since her friend in the hat looks a bit tight-lipped in the twat department, making fun of her would be a highlight to say the least. i think it would go a lil sumthin like this:

ha, youre boyfriend's name is ashley!

and hes gay!

youre a carpet munching golddigger bitch!

see? more fun than a world cup penalty kick shootout. holla back.

2006-07-08T11:44:00.000-05:00

mobert is postponed until Queen City

til then, read funny shit here and here.
start from the beginning, there will be a quiz.

2006-07-04T20:12:00.000-05:00

happy fourth of july everyone.

hooray america!

2006-07-03T14:34:00.000-05:00

warning: this post is about hockey. the boring, no fun, offseason business side of hockey. the part of hockey where champions are dismantled and dynasties are bought and sold. if you dont like hockey, then you should stop reading now.

with that out of the way, onward.

i have a love hate relationship with jim rutherford, the general manager of the carolina hurricanes. now, general managers in the nhl are different than in most sports. they dont sit on their asses and do nothing, like in baseball, nor are they glorified coaches, like in football. general manangers in the nhl just deal with personnel issues, contracts and trades and such.

ive mostly hated jr for the past few years because of his super penny pincher attitude when it came to his moves. even before there was a salary cap, jr had a tendency to completely ignore a players accomplishments when considering resigning intergral pieces of the team. its rumored that his favorite line around the office is "we can get it cheaper elsewhere."

now cheaper is all well and good when it comes to chinese hookers and cocaine, but when it comes to team building, it doesnt work. canes fans subsequently suffered through years of spare parts teams bought up from garage sales. no fun to watch, and certainly not winners.

this year didnt start out any differently. the canes had major holes to fill. two top defensemen. scoring winger. scoring center. goaltender. powerplay pointman. and for coach laviolette's system to work, they all have to be super fast. jr's results were at the time disappointing. commodore and kaberle? neither were top dmen on their old clubs, and neither of their old clubs were particularly good defensive teams. matt cullen and cory stillman? ones an underachieving journeyman and the other a slow aging career third stringer. awesome jr, just awesome.

and then we won the stanley cup.

in the nhl, there is a phenomenon called the stanley cup hangover. teams that win the cup tend to struggle the following year. the way you avoid this is be smart during the offseason and make sure your team needs are filled twice over, just for depth.

jr was able to resign the biggest absolute must sign players in eric staal, rod brindamour, and justin williams, along with kaberle and commodore. however, none of these players were unrestricted free agents, and were never in danger of going anywhere. the unrestricted free agents that were absolutely necessary to focus on were matt cullen and doug weight, who shared time centering the third scoring line and on the power play. with how crucial that third line depth was for the canes success last season, keeping one of these players was key to maintaining scoring depth and powerplay success. with cullen being able to play center and wing, along with a point on the power play, he was the obvious choice to keep. doug weight, as good as he is, didnt fit the canes system quite as well as cullen, and at his age, was too expensive to keep. so what does jr do?

he blows the whole thing and lets both of them go. cullen to the rangers, weight back to st louis.

now, who did jr get to fill this hole? nobody. the free agent list is shortening daily. a speedy center and pointman? hard to find, harder to sign.

dammit jr, you better not fuck this up. i want another cup.

2006-06-29T19:00:00.000-05:00

moving on up! to the Queen City! we finally got a piece of the piiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!ps i will now be growing shaggy hair and a trashy 'stache. holla

2006-06-23T22:24:00.000-05:00

welcome to mobert and friends. this is the part of the blog where you meet the people i meet. lets begin.

this is julia. julia is from jersey and hates it. she told me so. specifically she didnt like the fact that the majority of guys in the state are not zach braff in garden state types but more short joe pesci lookalikes with bad hair and too much cologne.

i grin and say what a surprise, but not before i introduce myself.

hi. smirk.

hello there. i like your blazer.

you would, it matches your shirt.

it does. now thats got to mean something.

yeah, it means you and i look awful good together.

smirk. smirk.

insert game over celebration here.

her friend is trying to hand her a cell phone, circa nineteen eighty seven. she has just used it to get the digits of one of my roommates. yeah, he would get wingman props for that, save for the fact that the phone mysteriously malfunctioned somewhere between typing on the keypad and unzipping the handbag. this caused julia's friend to be upset because her phone didnt work, and this cause my roommate to be upset cuz, well, he had to continue duff duty. hey its a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it.

so it was getting late that night, and julia, being the good, not as drunk as the others friend, decided to get her duff home before she fell and broke something. as she grabbed me and gave me a big goodnight hug, she slipped something into my back pocket, then whispered something in my ear.

maybe we can look good together again sometime.

all id have to do is show up babe. all id have to do is show up.

2006-06-16T20:15:00.000-05:00

i have a lot of free time on my hands these days. i live with my parents, so i dont really have to do anything while im at home. which also means i dont really do anything while im at home. blogging is about the most exercise in a day, and a curious box of cheez its on my desk tells me even thats not doing much good. its too hot, i say, its too sunny. or as the case was a few days ago, its pouring rain and flooding too hard to go outside mom. so im just gonna chill inside with a nice tall glass of orange juice and watch the americans wish they could hang with the best footballers in the world over in germany.

in case you havent noticed, the last few posts of mine have been stuff from the archives, not new material. old shit. you know, like from two thousand four and shit. theyre not even the best ones from the old shit, but i tried to pick relevant ones. mr redick going to jail is obviously not old shit, and heres a new, even better take on his ordeal then even mine. again, bottoms up to that.

this chillin out at home stuff isnt too bad. im gonna have to get used to it too, seeing as how The Man decided to only suspend my license for sixty days. lotta help that punk ass piece of shit lawyer was. he shows up late, said all of two sentences at my hearing, and wants to charge me an arm and leg for no results. sorry buddy, it doesnt work like that. i know, i work in retail.

predictions for the weekend:
italy 1, usa 2
canes 2, oilers 4 game 6
lefty wins us open
cane 5, oilers 2 game 7

holla holla holla.

2006-06-13T18:08:00.000-05:00

it must be difficult being jonathan clay redick. its almost makes you feel bad for the kid. my carolina degree would never let me do such an atrocious thing, but i do have to say seeing his mugshot all over espn this morning did make me ponder the difficulties of young jj's life.

how could he have it that bad, you say? 2006 player of the year, surefire lottery pick at this month's nba draft, a degree from one of the top schools in the country, the dude's got it made right?

i mean, for the last four years, youve had a whole entire state worth of fans cheering and backing you every step of the way. with every three pointer, with every free throw, everyone in new jersey celebrates like they just won a free weekend at a timeshare in seaside. sean may doesnt even have that kind of fanbase, and he actually has a championship ring.

jj redick has to be the biggest sports star in durham. also the most recognizable, as in a six five white kid from virginia in a town of five nothing black folks from north carolina. anyone who sees him know who he is, what he does, read his poetry, and how much money hes about to make.

even the cops.

and all these folks, who are all big fans of jj are so thankful for everything that hes done for them. scoring all those points, winning all those ncaa championships, beating north carolina at cameron on senior day, all these wonderful, wonderful things.

so when an underpaid, overworked durham police officer pulled over young jj at one oclock in the morning for pulling a uturn to avoid a checkpoint, youd think that that officer, knowing jj's storied career and understanding what hes done for dook university and the durham community, might have cut him a little slack. so what if he had a few beers that night, hes a star! a hero even! all he had to do was look the other way just this once, and no one would have even known. it would have been a small favor to one of the greatest college basketball players of all time. sure, it would have been easy, but you are forgetting one thing.

even jj redick's fans hate him.

bottoms up to that.

2006-06-13T11:15:00.000-05:00

if you come here looking for enlightenment, then surely you must be disappointed.

on a daily basis.

likewise for spirtual nirvana, world peace, and truth.

because frankly, i have no idea what the truth is.

i dont know if i can handle the truth.

because alot of my days are filled with motions without emotions and routine of the worst kind. class food sleep blog class food sleep class sleep food blog sleep.

or something like that.

the ancient story of the phoenix talked about how, after 100 years, this bird would set itself on fire and burn itself into a pile of ashes. and from that same smoldering pile of ashes a brand new bird would come out and do it all over again.

whenever i heard the story i always wondered how he made it to a hundred in the first place.

cuz if get to hang around as long as montgomery burns, then theres gotta be a few decades in there somewhere where shit just wasnt going right. where life was boring and routine and completely without emotion. and then id want to cash in my little burning to ashes routine a few years early, just to get a fresh start if nothing else.

but i think there should be some catches on the whole fire thing. a few simple things, just to make sure when you come back youll know it was all worth it. around the world of emotions in 80 days.

you have to have a really really good day. its has to be 80 and sunny so all the pretty girls are out with little skirts and dresses. and it has to make you feel really good.

then, you have to see one of you friends get hurt. right in front of you. not fatally, but enough for him to writhe around on the ground in pain and scream fuck fuck fuck a whole bunch of times. he has to go to the hospital and you have to wonder if hes ok for a couple of days.

then you have to have the most boring week of your life.

then you have to hear about that girl, that girl that makes your tummy tingle, with another guy. a guy you know. a guy that lives down the street or down the hall. you have to regret ever falling for her and you have lay in bed without food or showering and listen to boyz II men 'end of the road' on loop for three days straight.

and when you come out of your lovesick coma, you have to take a shower and go out with two of your closest friends for a wild night on the town. go someplace where the beer is cheap and flows like wine and theres good loud music. cuz its only in a place like this where good times are born.

and the last thing you have to do is at the end of the night, when its time to go, you look your friends in the eye and tell them you could never have made it through any of this without them. you have to tell them you are leaving and not coming back. not to any of this at least.

and they both understand, because you did make it through.

cuz even though youre leaving behind all the bad things, there are still alot of good things in those ashes too. some of them are good ashes.

and when its finally time, youll turn away and walk down the street alone for the last time. back to your place for the last time. back in your bed for the last time. back of your eyelids for the last time.

and then you wake up and its a brand new day.

2006-06-12T11:32:00.000-05:00

the call came in from headquarters at around 4:30 in the pee em. the golden amp cackled and sparked to life. saturdays tend to be busy, but we were having a down day. the call was the first of the day. with the volume knob turned up to eleven, charlie's voice rang clear and true. the sidekick and i listened closely, the growing urgency apparent on our faces.

shit mobert, did you hear what he just said.

pretty heavy shit, tmobile. you up for it?

shit man, lets fucking do this shit man.

we took the orders from hq and got ready. the sidekick loaded up the grungemobile, our very own 1980's chevy conversion van, with three marshall amps and a few stratocasters.

and both les pauls. just in case.

the sidekick hoped behind the wheel and drove us off in a frenzied hurry. ran a few stop lights and scared a few old people on the way.

and when we pulled up to the mall, no one moved. no one made a sound. the vermin saw me and they knew who i was and they were scared shitless.

teenyboppers. everywhere. at least two dozen. maybe more. they all stared right at me. made no attempt to hide it. there were whispers from the food court and hushed nods from the gap.

fuck, there he goes. fuck, thats him. fuck, thats the one they talk about.

thats the daysleeper.

i brushed my hair out of my face and lit a cigarette. the guitar stuck out a bit from underneath my jacket. the braver ones gathered all around me, some crouched, some snarling and some with their claws out. the sunlight glinted off my weapon of rock and roll and they hissed at the sight.

the first one lunged at me from behind, blaring lindsey lohan out of an iShit mini. it was wielding two ryan cabrera cds and swung both of them at me like knives. in an instant, i turned and threw my jacket aside, gripped my six stringed weapon and swung for the fences. the teenybopper screeched at the force of the blow and exploded in mid air, falling to the ground in a pile of smoldering ashes.

at that very moment, all hell broke loose.

the teenyboppers jumped over tables and threw chairs aside to get to me. they came from every direction. lunging leaping lashing, i judo chopped and samurai hi yaahed all over their punk asses. swinging and slashing away as one by one each beast fell, most of them with a ashlee simpson you make me wanna lala scream. with the six stringed wonder in my hands, i was unstoppable. the enemy was laid to waste in a matter of minutes.

as the smoke cleared pink shirts with flipped up collars and big bugg eyed sunglasses were scattered about among the ashes. the hordes and hordes of demonized mtv youth that invaded the mall were reduced to little more than cat litter. the last one ran off with a whimper into the haze of smoke hanging around the food court. i took one long last drag from the cig, threw it down in the ashes and stomped it out. with a clenched face i cracked a dry smile, proud of my handywork's mayhem. the survivor would go tell all its friends, no doubt. todays fight was done, but there would me more. plenty more.

i flicked my cigarette butt into the ashes. welcome to the jungle, bitches.

2006-06-09T11:50:00.000-05:00

dear the game of baseball,

i think you are great.

exceptionally amazing, even.

nothing could be finer than you.

only a sport as great as yourself would have so many loyal fans and have so many people talk about you so much.

only the greatest athletes in the world play you. take for examples such finely tuned athletic machines like david wells, pudge rodriguez, man-ram, jason giambi, and last but not least, the retired john kruk. pulling off so many incredible things on the field, like catching and throwing a ball, i can see why people would easily pay money to see these guys play you, baseball.

and hell, president bush, the greatest president of all time, used to own part of a team that played you.

really though, why else would so many people watch so much of you all the time?

like a game every single day? sometimes two?

because the thing is, during the long hot summer months, there are so many other things in the sports world that sports fans could be watching.

like hot dog eating contests

and bicycle crashing. i mean racing.

and poker!

but the fact that you manage to overpower all those massively popular sports with their massively loyal fanbases is truly astounding. an accomplishment for the ages.

its almost as if people have nothing better to watch.

oh, but your genius doesnt stop there, baseball. everyone knows that you are so much incredibly longer than other sports leagues at over 180 games a regular season, almost all of those games are played during the national football leagues's offseason. a hugely popular television sport on weekends when people watch tv like the nfl isnt any competition at all, cuz you dont play games during its season.

what a genius plan! only you could come up with something like that, baseball!

and when the nfl season does start, you just have a knack for getting those playoff games going. cuz nothing makes the anchors at espn cream their drawers like the playoffs. who cares about the start of nfl, nba, nhl and college basketball seasons when your playoffs are on?!?!

and after avoiding all those other wannabe sports during the offseason, you are still so great that news guys will even talk about all the training you do in the spring, before the next season of you even starts. during march fucking madness, no less.

and then, when your season finally does start, people dont even talk about the nba playoffs, or the nhl playoffs, or the finals, or the championships, cuz who wants to watch those when sports fans can watch the first fifty meaningless games of your season?

your front office is legendary. you never let the players union push you around on anything, like salary caps, trade deals, contract restructuring, or substance testing. and you handle player discipline in such a timely manner. whenever a player appeals a suspension, your administration always always reviews it within the next few months. and meanwhile, suspended players can even play in the all star game, if they so choose, because suspended players have rights too. no other sport has administrators that are as compassionate and as understanding as yours, baseball.

you know what, when you take a step back, and look at all the great things you accomplish, its truly awe-inspiring how you manage to have so many fans, baseball.

keep up the good work.

love,
mobert.

2006-06-07T23:54:00.000-05:00

i went out to the bars last night. actually just one bar, the one bar called hes not here. on tuesday nights its the place to be because no one else has cheap beer on tuesday nights.

i met up with a girl i know there. it happened to be her bday, the big one niner, so i decided to buy her underage ass jaeger shots all damn night. we had a few large cups of really cheap beer in between as well. her indian friend and designated driver for the night was really cool. i taught them both how to play darts because if im a bad ass mutha fuckah at anything, its throwing darts at a dartboard. those things are dangerous around drunk people though. you better watch out, you might poke your eye out with one of those things.

i dont use pickup lines. ever. the easiest way to meet people (read: pretty little girls) is to be completely honest, even when you are trying to pick them up or get the digits or show them your newly washed sheets within hours of meeting them. im no casanova, so boys, stop emailing me asking about how to get pretty girls to notice you. a magician never gives away his secrets, and im not telling you the double secret magic failsafe lines that always always get the ladies acting like they think you are and interesting human being.

if i did have any advice for the hopeless and romantically lost, it would go a little sumthin like this:

-stop wearing the same thing everyone else it wearing. its like camoflauge. it makes you blend in with the crowd, and you dont want that.

-stop saying the same thing everyone else is saying. the hottest of the opposite sex dont care about how many beers you can drink or about how you got soooooooo tanked last night that you puked all over your room. keep your bodily fluids to yourself.

-stop thinking the same thing everyone else is thinking. if youre in a meat market bar/club/nightspot, everyone is thinking the same thing. if you have a different mindset (read: not trying to fuck the nearest thing with two legs) people will notice. ask what shes drinking, ask her if she knows this song, ask her why her friend is being so drunk and making an ass of herself.

those tips come with a money back guarentee, haters. dont be mad at me just cuz my only bad habit is coming home with more numbers and goodbye smooches than you do.

cat wasnt hanging out with any of her friends though. the frat boy sitting next to her nursing his booze could barely keep his head up. the picnic table could carry on a conversation better than he could.

shes working over the summer. some kinda internship where you get coffee and answer phones, but you get to write it down on your resume and it looks good. she hates it, just like she hated blade runner when we watched it in film class. i said whatever you luv you some harrison ford.

she said no, i like edward norton.

i said me too and she smiled.

game. over.

seacrest out.

2006-06-05T23:25:00.000-05:00

if i told you to pack up you shit and move tonight, how many boxes would it take?

i told him four probably, plus that big ass duffle bag in my closet and my computer bag. its not an easy thing, packing up the last twelve months of your life and whisking it away to a far off land like it never happened.

or like its even over.

my far away land is my parents house, a whole fortyfive minutes of bumpertobumperrushhour traffic away from chapel hill. it seems useless at best, these few weeks between leaving and leaving again.

its probably best to use these weeks for quiet reflection. to look back on things that ive done and things i cannot change.

thats a load of bullshit if ive ever heard one, he said. the real life forrest gump can come up with better lines than that, jackass. what is this, not another teen movie eighteen and a half?

hurr hurr very funny. its the truth dumbass.

i dont like talking about myself. its not that i dont have an ego bigger than this room, but it seems to me that self importance is the worst of virtues. the bastard stepchild of arrogance and ignorance, or something like that. if i had a lot of fun this year, thats for me to know, not for me to gloat about on some sleazy bathroom wall called the blogosphere.

yeah, i stayed up many, many nights and made some memories

yeah i rolled out

yeah there were tears i knew id cry.

no matter though. it all just goes in the bank. the bank of good judgement. filled with files and files of experiences and endless boxes full of lessons learned. anyone with any sense about them wants to have the biggest good judgement bank on this side of the mississippi. alas, they would strive for it. they would make it a life goal. they would consider the great accumulation of all that life will teach you the greatest accomplishment of all.

but you dont want to hear about any of that. right?

he looked at me and gave me his little smirk.

of course not, you dumbass.

then he got up and started for the door.

oh, and one other thing. pay for lunch.

2006-05-29T23:55:00.000-05:00

stuff to do this week:

1. end an era and move out of chapel hill

2. move into new place with lingerie supermodel roomates

3. stop the man from trying to take my independence by requesting a preliminary hearing and hiring a lawyer.

4. at twelve oh one ay em on friday morning, receive payment for services from current employer

5. distribute funds from said payment to various places, like said lawyer, gas, bills, dvds, beer.

6. in that order

7. check the weather in miami and wonder about the future

8. take a nap

9. round up a few folks and ask them about their experiences with insurance and financial services.

10. write down their answers

11. take said written answers to prospective employer and convince them to hire me

12. perform services for current employer for insufficient reimbursement.

13. hang out at the mall

14. watch the carolina hurricanes advance to the stanley cup finals.

14. sleep, dream, repeat

2006-05-27T20:28:00.000-05:00

from the mailbox:

state of north carolina

department of transportation
division of motor vehicles

mobert jones III
666 highway to hell
middle of nowhere, usa

offical notice

your north carolina driving priviledge has been scheduled for suspension in accordance with general statute 20-16(a)(10a) and 20-23 for speeding in excess of eighty miles per hour.

effective date: 12:01am, 06/05/06
scheduled termination date: 12/05/06

requirements:

prior to the effective date of this order, you must mail all north carolina drivers licenses in your possession to the division of motor vehicles. failure to surrender your drivers license may result in an additional $50.00 service fee. it is unlawful to drive during the suspension period.

hearing provisions:

a preliminary hearing is allowed. provided your request for a hearing is made prior to the effective date of this order. you may retain your license pending the outcome of the preliminary hearing.

reinstatment procedures:

a restoration fee of $50.00 and the appropriate license fees are required and must be paid at the time your driving priviledge is reinstated. at the time of the issuance of your drivers license, you must present proper identification and proof of age. if you own or operate a motor vehicle, you must show proof of liability insurance coverage. this order is in addition to and does not supersede any prior order issued by the department of motor vehicles. if additional information is needed, you may contact a representative of the division at (919) 861-3807.

brenda mills freeman, assistant director
drivers license section

2006-05-25T21:34:00.000-05:00

he watched as the cigarette butt flickered across the windshield in an orange sparkled dance right before he slammed the brakes and the horn. she was a brunette, and the dirty mercedes she was driving just danced a left turn across three lanes of incoming traffic, namely, jorge's bright yellow taxi, cab number 3650. her oversized sunglasses must have impeded her vision, or she was colorblind. whatever her ailment was, she cut so close that i could smell the chanel no five on her skin and see the herpes on her lip.

goddamn kids, jorge said. he turned and looked over his shoulder at me. the thing about this town is that they practically run things here. buncha twentysomethings running a damn city.

you say that like its a bad thing, i joked

he glanced again with a quizical look. lets just say that age will teach you how to tip.

I smiled. fair enough.

the drive was long. west 836 was closed down for a number of miles, the number of miles we needed to get on to get on to where i was going. we chitchatted during the downtime about business, his and mine. eventually we got to talkin bout what we do to pay the bills.

my boss wants to come down to miami and take a local restaurant nationwide, and hes got over a million dollars from his investors to do it, i said. its a pretty lucrative deal, theres a lot of money all around.

my boss makes a million dollars, and hes just a prick.

i laughed. whys that.

he glanced over his shoulder with a clever grin.

you know that bitch that just cut us off? that dirty slut with the chihuahua and the european purse?

what about her.

he grinned again.

that was his wife, he said. his third one.

the light changed and jorge turned back to the front.

bienvenido a miami

2006-05-23T22:33:00.000-05:00

you could say im haaaaaapy
not quite bear eats monkey, but this series is far from over.
game three, wednesday evening seven thirty eastern standard time on oln.

2006-05-18T00:55:00.000-05:00

my prediction for the nhl eastern conference finals:

carolina hurricanes = bear
buffalo sabers = monkey

2006-05-15T22:26:00.000-05:00

american airlines flight 459 was scheduled to leave raleigh durham international airport with non stop service to miami at six thirty three am on tuesday, may sixteenth, two thousand six. that is exactly seven hours from now. not enough time to sleep, not enough time to eat, not enough time to put on a nice suit and tie, and definitely not enough time to get ready for an interview that has the opportunity to change your whole fucking life.

good thing i wont be on that flight.

miami is very different from chapel hill north carolina. its a beach town, a big town, a diverse town with a lot of non white folks in it, and a town with a lot of fake tits in it too. the malls are crazy, like bal harbour for example, where the whole first floor has so many italian names on it, you would think you just checked into the Godfather Hotel. you gotta go up to the attic just to find a banana republic and you gotta pay. for. parking. throw all that together, mix well with pro sports stars and mtv parties on every corner and hot damn! you got yo'self one magic city. what kind of single red blooded twenty two year old male whos about to make more money than he ever has wouldnt want to call miami home?

the kind that already has a home, thats who.

ive lived in north carolina my whole life. its one of the best places to live in america. forbes magazine even says so. its great, and ive always been a big fan of great. theres just a whole lotta uncertainty about the future right now, and between botched weather forecasts and hospital drama finale plot twists, its hard to figure out what tomorrow may bring, let alone the rest of your life.

good thing i wont be on that flight.

2006-05-13T01:53:00.000-05:00

i got two phone numbers tonight and it was easy. let me tell you dudes out there who are having a hard time with this concept: its easy its easy its easy. whenever a man has the luxury of going out in chapel hill, getting a girls phone number should never be something to fear. the stakes and the odds and the situations are all primed and tilted in you favor, so take advantage cuz youll never have these days again.

should you do it just cuz i say so? no, you should do it cuz you will regret it dearly if you dont.

one of them works at my secret spot at which i get all my fly gear. shes always super nice and is sure to come show me some of the new tees whenever i come by. she knows what size i wear and what colors i usually wear and which ones will go with the mad max jacket and stuff like that, but her paycheck depends on it so its acceptable. ill often humor her when she brings some shit thats not worthy of being on my body by saysing "yeah, thats ok, not my steez thou hun." she usually smiles and runs along, leaving me to shop as i please. shes cute, thats why i even bother to give her the time of day. her boss is a friend of mine, so by association shes a, um, 'friend' too.

the other one used to play volleyball in her bikini in front of my dorm freshman year. her friend was dating a friend of one of my friends so you know we had a bunch of those ive met you before but dont hang out with you enough to remember your name moments. but tonight, tonight was different. i was walking around in a bar, on my way out to leave when she tried to smack me in the face. shell deny it to her dying day, but she did, and the only reason that she did was because she wanted to talk to me and couldnt think of any other way to flag down a constantly moving, wildy unpredictable, highly experimental stud like myself. we got to chatting and touching and flirting a bit until her mother hen friend started literally looking over her shoulder like a mean teacher during finals. in case you couldnt tell, her friend totally killed the mood. she was obviously mad at mother hen for doing so, so when she batted her eyes and asked me if i would be out the next night, i responded with a cool "if youre lucky," and politely asked her for her number so that, if shes lucky, she would find out. she gave me a smile and wink and typed into my phone.

at this point, troops, your exit strategy is easy. click, turn, walk away.

i only remember one of their names and to tell you the truth, one of the friends of one of these ladies was way hotter and way more interesting to talk to than the on whos number i actually got. but thats the beauty of the thing. for when you are not actually interested in a female, but you are in her friend, that process is called networking. by building relationships with friends of people we want to know, we move up the social ladder simply by association. and this upward mobility is a great goal, because of the wonderful things you can achieve through it, and how really really easy it actually is to accomplish.

click.

turn.

walk away.

2006-05-10T11:36:00.000-05:00

you know, there are a lot of women that want to sleep with me. this is not a new phenomenon, nor is it unwelcome. its quite a good problem to have, if there is such a thing. if you can handle a little lack of sleep and the occasional leisurely walk of shame, then read on. world travel! make money! this is the career for you son!

file the entire previous paragraph under "Pimps Annonymous Brochure: Introduction"

hell, one only has to follow the mobert to last night for a good example. us dudes and the ladies are just chillin out late night at the 621, and all of a sudden... (this convo is as best as i remember it, officer. )

alli says:
so mobert, you think you would have sex with me?

mobert says:
nope. thinks a long time.

alli says:
oh ok, whatever. gives mobert the oh no you didnt just say that look.

...

alli says:
are you for real?

mobert says:
are you calling me a liar?

alli says:
yeah i am, i do think you want to have sex with me.

mobert says:
no, actually im not.

alli says:
ok fine. acts like she doesnt care

...

alli says:
ok, so if you dont want to have sex with me, can you tell me why?

mobert says:
babe, you arent my type.

alli says:
see, thats bullshit, i think you want to have sex with me. pouts like a little brat.

moberts says:
try me.

alli says:
gives mobert an look.

it was now four ay em. many of us were ready for bed. alli wanted nothing more than to drink more vodka. interesting how a woman can tell you she wants to sleep with you without saying a word...

an interesting night indeed.

2006-05-06T10:53:00.000-05:00

allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is mo
bert, m to the o b
i used to fold t shirts at the A E.
i guess even back then you could call me
prodigal son of the 6-2-1, oh!
fresh out the box like a new pair of white kicks
im not the only one thats knowing that you like this
next year, just keep it hot, keep it new fo me
cuz you know im graduatin' from that U-N-C!

this is a public service announcement, sponsored by g dot nice and the good folks at 621 Productions

"Now before I finish, let me just say
I did not come here to show out, did not come here to impress you
Because to tell you the truth when I leave here I'm GONE!
And I don't care WHAT you think about me - but just remember,
when it hits the fan brother, whether it's next year, ten years,
twenty years from now, you'll never be able to say
that these brothers lied to you JACK!"

2006-05-04T18:25:00.000-05:00

things i will not miss about the univeristy of north carolina.

final exams

final papers

studying for final exams

parking tickets

meter maids who think cutting tickets is the most important job in the world

never ending construction

dirty hippies (clean hippies are ok)

basketball groupies

elitist and racist fraternities

stuck up gold digger sororities

rude bouncers (cool bouncers are ok)

slow bartenders

schoolkids records, the walmart of record stores

8-20

lines at the club

and thats about it, cuz everything else here is, of course, perfect.

2006-05-01T22:01:00.000-05:00

there is a zoo right smack dab in the middle of campus, right between the old ass geezer library and the caffeine shop. its gets more traffic in the first two weeks of may than most other days of the year. if it was a website, itd be like yahoo or cnn or something like that. a place that we in the industry like to call a high traffic area. hell, some kids even spend the night, sometimes two or three in a row, just cuz they think itll make them smarter, and when its all said and done, theyre none the worse for wear.

i usually just go to study. the park benches are covered with plush green leather, like some kinda irish tavern honeymoon suite on st pattys day. they blend in real well with the surrounding foliage. trees and bushes and shrubs and such line all the walkways. from the benches you get to see all kinds of wildlife. its easy to see how somebody whos supposed to be working dilligently away at some sort of arbitrarily assigned paper busywork could get distracted. theres a great deal to the scenery here, like the rare brunette giraffe slowly stalking the plains, or the herds of ba-donkeys drinking from the water fountains. if youre not paying attention, you could get caught up.

the strangest thing about the zoo is that its almost completely quiet. you would think that any place where college kids gather at 2 am would be the rowdiest place on earth, but the zoo is not that kind of place. no, no, kids here are way too concerned with whats going on in their own little worlds to give a vocal damn about anyone else's boredom. they just stare at their pages and listen to their music, all while letting the richness of the wildlife go to waste.

if my club owner friend came up in here, hed go nuts and pull his own hair out. why isnt there a bar in here?! all these people need BOOZE and they need it now! he would shout. then the nightcop, being the bad mammajamma that he is, would ask to see our student id's and kindly ask us to leave. for a guy whos in charge of 'security,' hes damn child molester-ish on the grand scale of creepiness. reads graphic novels and drinks coke for seven hours a night. kids, let this be a lesson, if you dont go to college, this will be you. in this place of nocturnal loniless where theres no rest for the weary...

and right then, another giraffe passes by. and then her friend. and then another.

oh, right, thats why i keep coming back.

2006-04-28T21:51:00.000-05:00

i post this every year, but this years version is different. better. more bittersweet.

The Things We Think and Do Not Say

As my entire college career lies in my wake and an uncertain future lies ahead, now is the time for yours truly to take a short time to remember and reflect.

All throughout grade school, I remember the last day of classes as a yearly event of unparalleled joy. The only thing anyone could think about was the endless summer. The next school year seemed like it would never come. College? Getting a job? The rest of you life? Only an eternity away, not worth worrying about now. However, in college that same last day of classes is different. One might never think that a party that starts at 3 pm on a Friday afternoon could in any way be bittersweet, but you would be wrong. The very reason why we drink with the sun on our backs, the reason we sing "Freebird" at the top of our lungs, arm in arm with our closest friends on the front lawn of a frat party, is not because we are happy that the school year is over, but because we realize that the rest of our lives is one year closer. We are scared because we finally comprehend that these years, the years that we live our lives and our youth to the fullest, the best years of our lives, are slowly but surely coming to a close. That is the reason why we drown our misty-eyed happiness at the bottom of a bottle. We smile, we sing, we cry, but we will never be the same.

This realization is useless unless each of us learns, for better or worse, from our earth's most recent trip around the sun. Each person reading this rant is not the same individual he or she was at this time last year. We have fallen in and out of love, slept through classes, ingested copious amounts of alcohol and encouraged others to do the same. We have sung, danced, fought, talked, walked, run, and ate. Many times all of these happened in the same day. We grow, we build relationships, we fall, we get back up, and in the end, we are better people simply because we made it through the ups and downs.

This year has taught yours truly a great deal. I've had the best times of my life, most involving alcohol, loud music, and loose women. Highlights include Novemberfest (a 621 production), Halloween, Puerto Vallarta, BLACKOUT featuring Tyler Hansborough (another 621 production) and all the lovely, lovely ladies in between. But, as with all things in this world, the good came with the bad and the ugly. I learned what real friendship is, and who my real friends are. Almost at the same time, I learned to recognize who could persevere through life's lemons, and who will need a lifetime of therapy to get over their sheltered youth. I can tell you with no ego that I am not bitter toward any of the people who taught me these things. In fact, I am glad I ran into them now so I can avoid them in the future. As cliche as it sounds, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade, mix it with vodka, and drink a lot of it.

i dont know how things are going to be. in about a week, this so called life called college will be done. like at the end of goodfellas when ray liotta goes from the gangsta life to the middle of suburbia and he is bored to tears. After all my reminiscing is done, I know that remembering is only helpful in moderation. Don't worry about the future, for it has yet to come. Forget about the past, for the past is done. Only care about today, because today is day one.

Enjoy the endless summer everyone, wherever it may take you. Never forget that the future is bright.

Hugs and handpounds.

2006-04-25T22:30:00.000-05:00

how to throw a hot party, by mobert jones the third

go on spring break

get drunk

plan end of year party while drunk on spring break

621 presents BLACKOUT featuring tyler hansborough? sounds good to me.

create an event on facebook and send it to all your friends, cuz we all know word of mouf is the best advertising money can buy.

make fun of people who dont rsvp cuz they are wack as shit.

see over 100 confirmed guests

expect three times more

buy supplies, which include giant shroom shaped black light bulbs, specially ordered black plastic cups, and big ole bottles of bottom shelf liquor.

dont forget the grape kool aid. lots of it.

put all the breakable shit in the closet so it stays in one piece.

if youre name is greg, keep telling everyone thats worried about the rain that its gonna stop.

sit in your house and watch it rain. all day.

if your name is mike, bounce out on helping out to go to the hurricanes playoff game.

watch hurricanes lose.

make funny comments about bad karma and laugh nervously.

more rain.

as soon as it gets dark out, go get fly and change into your blackout threads.

mix the shitty liquor and the koolaid. stir it up just a lil bit.

dump a whole two pound bag of sugar all up in that shit. stir it up just a lil bit.

kappa tappa kegga with mussell's super industrial strength robotic no hose tap.

start dranking.

bang out some jams, cuz everyone knows if you play it loud, they will come.

drank some more

see the rain stop and be merry.

see people show up.

see ladies looking fly all blacked out.

see more ladies looking fly all blacked out.

move some units and make that money.

get crunk. get high. get low.

cut the lights off and watch everybody glow.

dance dance, cuz these are the lives youd love to lead.

bring out two more kegs just to, you know, keep the party goin.

move some units and make that money.

go upstairs and break the seal.

have sloppy drunken makeouts.

get buzzed, get drunk, get crunked, get fuuuuuucked up.

watch greg go to work. watch mike holla. watch kelechi spit game. watch vic-tory treat all the women in the place real respectable-like, the ones hes not tryna fight at least.

watch three of them fail miserably.

get pissed cuz the cops show up, even though the music isnt loud at all. next time you should tell people not to stop their cars in the middle of the street in front of your apartment.

try to be polite to officer miss butch nasty while secretly dropping some yo mamma jokes from that new mtv show on her in your mind.

hide lora and lil paige in your bathroom when the cops come all up in your place clearing people out.

go to timeout at 4am and consume the most delicious meal youve ever had.

go home and go to bed

listen to victory come back from dook, bang on your door at 5am, take off his socks and pants and hop in bed with gregory paige.

get up, clean up, wrap up.

take lots and lots of pictures.

blog.

fin

2006-04-24T19:55:00.000-05:00

the hurricanes are strugglin a bit, and i think i know why.

ive decided that katy temple is the worst sideline reporter in the history of sideline reporting. therefore, she must also be bad luck for dem boyz. now, im not saying that she belongs in the kitchen, but she sure as hell doesnt belong on my hurricanes' sideline. fuck off katy.

2006-04-20T22:49:00.000-05:00

laziness defined

must mean a big party is coming up

hmmm...

2006-04-19T09:51:00.000-05:00

greg says:
speak of the devil.

mobert says:
dude, what i do, i just got home.

greg says:
youre just like vinci man.

mobert says:
like who?

greg says:
vinci, man! that dude from eighth and ocean

mobert says:
whys that

greg says:
man, you have to watch this episode

mobert says:
no i dont, ive seen him already

greg says:
see? you are just like him!

mobert says:
yeah, cept i have much better taste.

greg says:
in what?

mobert says:
beer, women, clothes, you name it. hell, i should be on that damn show.

greg says:
hahahahaha

2006-04-18T09:25:00.000-05:00

ok, see i have a confession to make. no, it doesnt involve underage girls or a video camera, father, its something much worse. right now, right at this moment, i have two papers due in the next fourty eight hours. two. at twelve pages a pop, and about an hour of dicking around on facebook per page, thats a whole lotta writing. so instead of actually doing productive work, im blogging. welcome to the show.

understandably, the undergrad is not exactly poppin at eight in the morning. my first paper is due in exactly nine hours and im not worried one bit. hell, i wrote fifteen pages on The Godfather in six. something tells me that the economics of premarital cohabitation is not as much fun as visual analysis of violence in the greatest film of all time.

speaking of The Godfather, its common legend that, in order to play the role of Vito Corleone, Marlon Brando stuffed his cheeks with wads of cotton to pull off the necessary aura of The Don. this is a load of horseshit. i just had my wisdom teeth removed, and after having my cheeks stuffed with gauze for the past three days, i can tell you from experience that it doesnt make you all raspy or strike fear into the hearts of men. you can wave you hands around in the air and squint with beady eyes all you want, but without the voice, people will be refusing your offers left and right. theres no such thing as the co-tton don.

the only good thing really about having dental surgery is getting a brand spanking new bright orange plastic prescription bottle of Vicotin, addictive painkiller to the stars. this shit will fuck. you. up. i promise. theres a little sticker on the side that says so. ive been trying to get off it, especially cuz academic work usually requires clarity of thought in writing and not medicated ramble soup, but it just makes you feel so damn good. i could probably get off it if i really wanted, which means that ive just come into a supply of prescription drugs for recreational usage. not my bag, but nobody turns down a profitable opportunity. any takers?

two pages down, ten more to go. schweeeeet.

mobert out.

2006-04-18T09:19:00.000-05:00

blog, world.

world, blog.

everyone grab a beer and lets go.