Nealmeister

Ode to Them

When my sister was back home in Massachusetts over the Christmas holiday, I told her that, for some odd reason, I felt like I didn't have any good pictures of mom and dad just together.  Sure, I had graduation pictures and party pictures.  But you know how, you know how your dad (or my dad) seems to always wear a blue shirt -- almost indicative of being a USG, blue collar, steadfast kind of guy -- and has the same half smile half discerning look that you grew used to seeing as you tumbled down the stairs in the morning (half awake, of course)?  And you know how, you know how your mom (or my mom) seems to always have the permanent smile -- whether something's wrong or something's right -- and can imagine, even hear, every time you look at her that sort of filipino accent?  Well, maybe you would, or maybe you can't, but my sister did.  I didn't have any of "those pictures," and I desperately wanted one to put in a frame in my office.

So, my sister emailed me this awesome picture that her fiance took of my parents out in Seattle.  I think it's perfect.  I think they look so good in the Pacific Northwest.  And I think, even after all of these years of marriage, that they still totally love each other.  And I do love them.  And I thank them for loving me.

hawt(i)ness

This is where we separate the hot from the haughty.  I love presidential election years.  They make me love the game of politics again. And don't worry, I'll vote even if the election department makes it a pain to do so.

Beware presidential debates at St. Anselm's.  Nealmeister and Party Animal are coming!!!

"Nevar" Hate in 2K8!

• The first thing I want to say about 2008 on my blog: I love Chicago.
• An affirmative action I want to contemplate beginning in 2008: Rule 705 Motions or ... .
• Some things continue to sit well in 2008: for sure, Harry Potter movies.
• Nicknames that shouldn't (and can't) stick in 2008 in 2008: Carlton; Carlton; Carlton.
• Overrated for 2008: Showering, productivity, lack of McDonalds.
• First wrong reference/realisation of 2008: "it's what i eat and what i do".
• Magic number of 2008: 2050.
• Looking forward to in 2008: Becker's Litany of Saints @ Easter Vigil; 7/26; joy; 27.

The nickname won't stick (hopefully)

First off, let me share with the world the text message I sent to a few people this morning (late this morning) as I tried as hard as I could to not move my body (for fear that things would get 'agitated' and 'you know' would 'happen'):

Ugghh gawd.  Thing #5860 I did not miss about alcohol: massive hangovers the day after where the recurring though is "oh, dear sweet lord jesus, what did I do? I am so sorry but please PLEASE I do not deserve death."

Sound desperate?  That's because I was (and really--still am).  In fact, I am being a total schmuck; while my friends are scrubbing the tarp for the "Cups Nook," I'm blogging on Typepad mobile.  I am awesome... and being horribly selfish.  At least the music in the background is good (think: Vince Guaraldi Trio's "A Charlie Brown Christmas" Soundtrack). 

Back to the main details of last night.  First off: Hill and I went to this amazing mexican place on Halsted in 60614 -- about a block away from the Citimates' place -- called Mayan Palace.  Maybe it was good because Hill and I got to catch up on gossip, because our waiter (Alejandro) offered us a celebratory New Years' flan, or because the frozen strawberry margaritas (first alcohol in 65 days!) were unbelievable.  Whatever the reason, I now love Mayan Palace and can't wait to go back....

After a little trip to Walgreens for some Pepcid and some cash, we stopped by Kev's place and then to a bar in the 'hood.  I'll cut to the chase: after tons of ice cold Heineken and blowing about $160 on rounds of Jäger Bombs (say my receipts--and this is a good place to reference--they've only caused trouble before--and by now, I've submitted poor Rach to becoming the newest "you're doing shawwwwwwts with me" victim), I commit the most atrocious of hambone-esque 02129 moves (actually, a couple) to /POST CLIPPED/  But I have this weird feeling that "Carlton" is going to stick as my official nickname forever... I officially hate myself. You just had to be there :)

All I got to say -- in sweet defense -- is that I love my brooks brother tie and my gray wool sweater. I would take neither off for no one.  No one.

 

The End a 65 Day Alcohol Strike

Well, I head off to Chicago on American Airlines flight 2487, with direct service from BOS to ORD (and continuing service to PHX) in about 6 hours to spend New Years with the mofos and put an end to my 65 day alcohol strike.  Striking happened to be difficult.  I realized -- but never faced with such start intensity -- how much alcohol was literally flowing through my life on a regular basis.  From excellently-tasting microbrewery beer to excellently-priced keg beer, from cocktails at business functions to wine at church functions, all of this was all cut off. 

The strike has not been without great benefit.  For one, cheating was not an option.  This task became more of a mission based on integrity as the days and weeks moved on; never before I have been encouraged (albeit, sometimes sought the advice) to "cheat a little bit."  That only fueled the desire to bite the bullet -- at times, only to face disgust with the quest -- especially when I had to ask for sparkling cider instead of champagne at toasts!  Even the physical "side-effects" have been interesting  As I first said to Greg and Lori (or maybe it was Peter and Natalie): "the weird thing is that I feel great--I can run faster, swim longer--this is amazing!"  Magically, acid reflux basically disappeared.  I've lost somewhere in between 12 and 17 pounds.  People kept on telling me I was sounding better as a cantor at church.

I'll have to let you know how New Years goes.  I mean, it's bound to be fun with the mofos... wish me and my liver luck!

Moving, Lonergan, and Seventy-Five Days

An agent through which vital powers are exercised.

Fall is finally becoming fall in Boston, in November.  Crisp and cool, just the way November should be.  I always thought that this type of fall weather lends itself to the nostalgia that replays inside my mind and supports the frustrated writer that lingers inside of me.  That's what I thought about when I was walking up Walker Street after I got off the bus this evening.  I was thinking about how much I really love my street, and how cool but strikingly red the fireball glowed from the utility pole at the top of my street, and how much I really loved what I do--even though I bitch and complain about it at times.  It's that new slug of a slog that I have to fight out and figure out.  I could quit.  But I love the playing field.

Beneath that fireball, though, I bumped upon Todd and Meg's U-Haul.  Todd and Dan were in it, amid all of the Todd and Meg's life that was getting squeezed into a 17-foot U-Haul.  Now, I always get really funny with change, especially moving.  I play things off like I'll see someone tomorrow.  I try to keep things "normal."  I laugh a bit and [/MESSAGE CLIPPED/]

Sunset in the East of Eastern Time

Remember back in the beginning of the summer, when I was really bitter because I was at work all the time, so I wished upon the world for winter to come? [See: Bitter]  Well, now it is the end of August, and I take those words back. 

I know spent most of my summer in an office.  So, it's kind of sad to see that, now that things are a bit normal at work, that the sun is setting at about 7:20 these days.  With the way time works here in New England, we're so close to Atlantic Time that damned Eastern Time brings about darkness at 4:10 come December.  I never win.

So I say, boo to that.  I think I'm going to have to go to Rio de Janeiro come January or Mid-February.  Winter time, 90 degrees, Brazil.  If you want in, let me know... Looks like I need to start working out so that I'm beach ready by then! 

The iPhone Commercial [ORD/SBN/MRY]

This is going to sound really weird.  But every time I hear/see the iPhone commercial, that little nostalgia button inside of me gets triggered.  It's like the music and the iPhone voiceover voice are really soothing.  At the same time, the shots -- I don't think I can call it cinematography -- have this flow that puts me into the Rudy/Skipping class for the BrewCo with Hill/Doors of Notre Dame/"walking across South Quad at dawn after pulling an all-nighter" kind of feel.  Everything's in soft, clean, incandescent-boosted hues.

And it all begs another question that I'll just answer.  I really miss Notre Dame.

I guess that's why I'm wicked excited to be making the trek on the third week of vacation.  Instead of celebrating a year on the job, I'll be celebrating the ND Perpetual Keggers, ND Football, ND Wedding.  And I really can't wait to go to the Grotto.  It's my favorite spot on campus, especially late in the summer when the Indiana humidity, 1000 chirping crickets, and faint sounds of the lake culminate in just one really surreal experience.  Just thinking about it makes me sigh.  And when I close my eyes and just think about it, the feeling of being relaxed pours over me.

Perhaps this is a little bit of hyperbole.  Perhaps it is.  But I think it answer's Erin's question from a few weeks ago.  I still think about that place.  And it still matters.  It matters to me.

Thank you, iPhone.

Tales from Friends Getting Married

From mi amiga Veronica (via mi roomie, Jess):

Three weeks before the wedding and on four hours of sleep. I managed to set fire to a bagel in the cafeteria and evacuate the whole building. I had three firemen trying to comfort me while I cried. One offered his friend to strip at the bachelorette party.

I’ve done a lot for before 9am on a Monday.

I know already that this one is going to be a wicked awesome wedding...

Fast Forward Rewind: Summer 2007

[Gate at Nate & Sue's Family Cottage, Little Compton, RI]

It is really hard to believe that Summer 2007 has nearly half-way completed.  I'd like to think that I'm a glass is half-full guy, but this summer, I'm thinking that more than half of the things that I wanted to do won't happen.  The second rafting trip up in Maine has already fallen through; trips to Hampton Beach or surfing at Salisbury or beach bumming on Plum Island have been talked about; and my sister and Chris are moving to Ohio next week. 
One thing is for certain, though: for the times that I have been able to enjoy the summer and everything it's got to offer, the times have been high-flying and wicked neat.  Jackman 2007 was full of hits.  Having Hillary and Travis come out from Illinois and Ohio -- only to partake in scorpion bowls, amble about Perkins Cove in Ogunquit, and ride the rides at Canobie Lake (all those pics I really do have to upload soon).

Nothing, though, kicked things off better than heading down to Little Compton for what's becoming an annual trek to Rhode Island.  Sue finally posted her pictures.  Now, I can quasi-relive inside jokes of "that's what she said" or nostalgize about my constant napping.

What's cool about Rhode Island, though, is that it's got everything you'd expect in Maine, plus a tinge of what you'd expect in the Carolinas.  I guess that's uniquely Rhode Island.... and now, I'll let the pictures say the rest.

Some hosts are great.  Others are awesome.  But these guys are wicked awesome!  Plus, they're photogenic, as evidenced by yet another glamour shot down in Sakonnet Point.

Peace and tranquility.  Little Compton Harbor.  You'd never guess, though, that it was an abnormally chilly Memorial Day weekend...

They still got it in them.  Able to walk without blackberries.  Able to laugh at wicked stupid jokes.  Able to not stare at the camera during ST's candid shots.... well, some of us like to smirk a bit!

Or, in realizing that you're from Maine, perfect your ability to have your eyes shut when the camera lady's saying "the sky is perfect.  Don't blink on me!"  Oh well.  I guess this makes the picture a bit more memorable...

I'm beginning to realize, more and more in these contemplative pictures that involve one of my 27 hoodies and one of their 27 pairs of sunglasses, that (a) I really like my hoodies, and (b) I really need to get contacts so that I can finally wear sunglasses.

And, oh yeah, as time goes on, I'm realizing that I look less and less like my mom, and more and more like my dad.  Wow.