Catskills with Matt & Karen (and Marco pics)

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A trip to the Catskills cabin with Matt & Karen. Pictures that Matt took follow the pictures I took.

Pictures from the back deck, site of deliciously delicious BBQ'd ribs-BBQing. Why didn't I take any from the front of the house? Good question. Here's a link to the professionally done shots taken on our trip this winter.




pan right slightly. house construction blocks all but a small windowish view of the raging river.


pan right again, the dirt gravel road. Can I mention that one other car drove up and down this road the entire weekend we were there?





In the kitchen prepping for food, prepping for photos.

one of many failed shots of fire from hours of fire watching. funny enough, right after this photo, the fire spelled out the word "sassafrass".




A better photo of phire. ha. ha.


And so begins what will become a 10,000 part series of photos of people I know pictured in front of ribs I have eaten. Photo #1: Esra (eating ribs!) in front of ribs I have eaten.







Matt with ribs I have eaten.










Karen is honored to be picture # 3 in the "ribs I have eaten" series.

Experiments in auto-timer and brightness/contrast manipulation. ("keep experimenting, genius")




Matt preps ice cream to go with roasted peaches and ice cream.





Matt on the mike??? Noooo. Matt on the ice cream scoop.




Sleepy girls. sleepily passing out. perchance to .. sleep.


Blury McOneArm snaps another winner. of Matt preparing to snap real winners.





Did a hobo take this picture? NOPE! I did! Does my mastery of one armed photography know no bounds? Nope. wait... I mean 'yes'.. it knows no bounds.





Hmmm... no hiding hobos. damn.


We found the trains (and an old guy who talked about 'em) .. we found no museums, though.




Esra cleans up after killing a hobo. Karen contemplates killing the hobo's sleeping hobo friend.


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PICTURES MATT TOOK:


Cabin in daylight. Being that we were either eating or sleeping or relaxing, we didn't see much of the outside of the cabin.

Ahh, the roaring, raging, rumbling river. Rumbling? yes, rumbling. the river got into a knife fight with another river 200 yards downstream.

I can watch rivers and fires for Daaaayyyys.

The view from the front porch.

Pre-gorging. Corn with cilantro, tomato, scalions - sweet potatos - ribs, ribs, more ribs - an amazing slaw in the back there. not pictured: the best scallops I've ever had.

Gee, I'M Sorry... did Matt and I take a buncha pictures of your girls sleeping???? That's so odd. Not sure how those got in there .. and then posted here.

Karen at the car. one-of-thousands Catskill peaks behind. Greenery everywhere. Bears? No bears.

At the Catskills Railroad Museum. ..that wasn't a museum. but was still cool.

train tracks + humans = need to tightrope-walk





And more. Karen is stuck talkin' to "old railroad dude".




Matt conjures the spirit of Robert Johnson. minus all that Southern suffering stuff that gets in the way of a good vacation.





Ok, make that fire, rivers and train tracks that I could look at for days.




Our Presidential whistlestop tour passes through the Catskills. either that or I have a gun at Esra's back.

Karen succumbs to the irresistable demands of our human tightroping genes.

Allllll aboaaaaaaard.......... but please, no smoking.

Aliens and little girls with pigtails ride for free.

And Karen. Karen rides for free too. wait, Karen is the conductor... ok thennnn... umm... hmm.. wait.. lemme think about this...
forget it, no one rides for free, this is too confusing.

there's an obvious caboose / Matt's butt (caboose) joke here but I'll leave it to you to make it.

Matt gets to live out his Mussolini fantasy. or Mussolini's statue fantasy.

Carved wooden crap (this one's a magical gnome!) guard Catskill establishments throughout the valley. This one guards the World's Largest Kalidescope which... somehow we didn't take a picture of so... internet photo theft to the rescue!! ahem.. I mean... borrowing... yes.. borrowing.



Go here for more pictures and lots of info on the World's Largest Kalidescope.


=================

And now... Also... In addition to all the above wonderfulness... here's a bunch of pictures Marco took while he was here in early April. click on the button marked "VIEW PICTURES" (duh) and.. Click on the pictures themselves to view the larger version of same..

Listicle 13.€↑

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₪₪₪₪ Why do I feel like I could watch this for hours?

₪₪₪₪ Your monkey's clothes are so 2004. Go shopping already, damn.

₪₪₪₪ Sad. the real six million dollar man died. well, the real pilot from the real crash.

₪₪₪₪ this quote summed up the righteous indignation I'm often known for: "Everything you love, everything meaningful with depth and history, all passionate authentic experiences will be appropriated, mishandled, watered down, cheapened, repackaged, marketed and sold to the people you hate."

₪₪₪₪ maybe it's that I'm a little hungover today but I could just keep clicking and clicking on this. On these too.

₪₪₪₪ I'll never have to leave the house again.. or pay for anything.. or talk to anyone.

₪₪₪₪ how cool is this----> ₪ new symbol I ran across? it's the international symbol for a sheckel.. or sheqel. From me, to you. ok, from ... whoever invented it through me, to you.

NFL Draft Sweepstakes - draft pics (get it?)

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Hambone hams it up with the fake broken leg. cute bastard.




outside of Radio City Music Hall, the night before the draft.





One armed photo goodness.






We look so much hotter in this photo. What? Am I supposed to not include it?? Also, the moving truck looks cool. I mean hot.




the view from the continental breakfast buffet area. the view from our room was much the same, just reversed (to see the West side of the park, instead of the East, pictured here)





Matt tries out for the NY Jets.









My turn. Interestingly enough, the Jets dont have a # 06 on their team. And the Jets picked #4 in the draft, not #6.




Let's call this... the grand concourse of Radio City Music Hall. looking down from the 3rd mezzanine level. Oh, do you like my artsy photo tilting technique? neither do I. I'm having fun with it though.




One armed photo blury fun.





"And the Oakland Raiders, with the number seven overall selection in the NFL Draft select... Michael Huff out of Texas"


Annnnd... another shot of same. Damn I need a zoom on my cameraphone.

And sitting in front of me?? Randy Moss and LaMont Jordan!! I know! awesome huh? LaMont could bulk up a little with some Chunky soup, I think.

Poor Matt Leinart. Going to a team where he'll almost surely start from day 1. Oh, did I mention the millions and millions of dollars he's gonna make?



the view from the ground level.





later that night.

my first published freelance article

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Sooooo....
....I haven't wanted to announce anything until it was official, but as of yesterday, it is.. I've had my first official piece of writing published in the L.A. based online magazine, The Simon.
...
.....Here's a direct link to the piece I wrote: Arabs and Iranians: A User's Guide. The title wasn't my first choice.. in fact, it wasn't my choice at all. The title ideas I'd suggested to the editor were:
Lone Goose in a Duck Duck World
Iran – Square Peg in a Round Peg Region
Arabs and Iranians... and Iranians.
Arabs and Iranians... (vs. the “Fox news Iranians”)
.... I think those are a little more apropos to the article but I'm not complaining. Well, ok, I guess I am. Also, I'm not entirely happy with the article itself. I think it's a little disjointed and feels somewhat forced (I seem to be a little resistant to editing) but for a first published piece, I can live it it.
... hope you enjoy.

Arabs and Iranians: A User's Guide
By Kory Dayani, May 1, 2006
 I was at a flea market a few months back when a friend pointed to a table of fabrics and jokingly said “Hey, look – it’s one of those Arafaty headdress things you desert people wear.” After I stopped giggling at the comic awesomeness of his inventing the term “Arafaty” (and thinking about all the ways I would steal it and make it my own) I explained that Iranians don’t wear the Arafat-style headdress; Arabs do. In fact, for almost 30 years now, I’ve been trying to shed light on how Iranians differ from our Arabic Middle Eastern neighbors and (like many of my fellow Iranian-Americans) dispel some myths and misconceptions about Iranians. You’d think after years of practice it would get easier, but with the current political situation, our task is actually getting more difficult
 To begin, I should point out that the country name is “Iran” (pronounced: Eee-Ron, not Eye-Ran or IHh-Ran. It may seem like a small point, but it honestly does ruffle many Iranian feathers to hear it pronounced incorrectly. And while we’re at it, things are only “Persian” if who or what you’re talking about was born or invented before 1935, when the country officially changed its name (see: rugs, food, history). During recent times of crisis, however, many Iranians have sought to call themselves “Persian” as protection against the negative connotations associated with post-hostage-situation Iran.
 As for how Iranians differ from Arab people, the list is probably a mile longer than the points I’ll raise but here’s a few basics: Falafels, schwarmas, hummus, tabuli, cous cous and a dozen or more foods commonly associate with the Middle East – all Arabic foods. Kabobs, yogurt dips, stews for rice dishes, soups, quiche-like creations (most containing meat – much to the frustration of our vegetarian loved ones) are the foods I grew up eating. Persians of the seventh century adopted the Arabic alphabet but then saw fit to add four letters. We borrowed a good amount of their vocabulary but can’t converse with each other effectively enough to even ask directions. Iranians pray, as do Arabs - but then we kill each other over what amounts to an argument over who should succeed Mohammed's successor, Ali (Sunni vs. Shia). Heck, we don’t even share the same calendar (I know you all celebrated Persian New Year or Noruz on March 20 – tonight, we’re gonna party like it’s 1385). Arabs have to wait until Jan 20, 2007 for the Islamic New Year 1428. As to the Arafaty head scarf, the ghutra or kuffiyeh, as I mentioned... well, we don’t wear them, and like most Iranians, we don’t know why and we don’t care.
 By definition, Arabs are “members of the Semitic people of the Arabian peninsula” and “members of an Arabic-speaking people” (Merriam Webster). If location and language are the criteria, the real question then is, Where and when did Arabs and Iranians originally diverge from each other and why? The answers are long and not entirely agreed upon but are best explained by historian Bernard Lewis. His gist is that unlike the other countries conquered by the Arab nomads of the seventh century, Persians differed just enough in a few key areas not to be completely assimilated:

 Language – Farsi is Indo-European based, as opposed to the Semitic language of Aramaic that was spoken in many surrounding countries.
 Culture – the Persian people and their culture were older and more centralized, hence more contributions. (They were founded in 540AD by my namesake, Kuroesh, in fact – something I am unjustifiably proud of. Humanitarianism, art, poetry, mathematics – and beer, let’s not forget beer – were explored for all they had to offer.)
 Political and historical memory – Iran had been conquered by Alexander the Great but only briefly, as opposed to repeated conquests other modern-day countries have had to endure.
 Birth names – Persians/Iranians have always had a fondness for naming their kids with historical Persian names, as opposed to the conquered people of Arabic speaking countries using Koran-inspired names like Mohammed or Ahmed. (You’ll rarely find Iraqi Nebuchadnezzars or Egyptians calling their sons Tutankhamen.)

 There are more recent historical road bumps that have kept cultural attitudes toward (and from) the West vastly different for Arabs versus Iranians as well. In 1953, the CIA coordinated a now well documented overthrow of the democratically elected government of Iran, installing a resistant Shah Reza Pahlavi as the U.S. puppet, basically ensuring that the American voice would be heard at OPEC and cementing backroom deals with U.S. oil companies. This led to the 1979 taking of American hostages and the ushering in of the Ayatollah-led theocracy that struggles to keep its stranglehold on the people of Iran to this day.
 It’s been a crazy few news months for my people – another half-boycotted election sidelined dozens of legitimate candidates and brought to power one of the 1979 hostage takers, a man who keeps spouting almost hilariously frightening bits of playground-like logic. (“The Holocaust happened? Oh yeah? Prove it!” and “If you love Israel so much, United States, why not move it to Alaska? Huh??”) Were it not for the ratings of this fire-breathing puppet (remember that since 1979, Iran has been a theocracy led by their Ayatollahs – they make all final decisions, not the president) and a history and region spotted with confrontation with the West, the other hot-button issue of late (nuclear power) might actually be seen for what it undoubtedly is: a bid to become a legitimate nuclear power. Instead, the bearded marionette wields his saber, rattling it with the sounds of megaton explosions over Jerusalem, goading the U.S. into confronting a nation whose people would always rather embrace the U.S. than fight it. (Recall those candlelight vigils in Iranian cities post-Sept 11.) The mullahs of the country will continue to clash with modernity and call their enemy “The West” as they have since the ’79 revolution, while the people of Iran continue their resigned impersonation of the children of violent alcoholics, silently hating the situation they can’t seem to escape, always hoping for something better to manifest itself and make the nightmare go away.
 If I sound less than hopeful here, I am. Iranians at home and abroad have been hoping and waiting (and waiting) for the overthrow of an oppressive regime, employing election tactics so intimidating that a people so ready for change resign themselves to the reality of the theocratic totalitarianism that controls them. The national depression is understandable in many ways – Iranians in Iran have continued to run up against depressing choices come election time: a choice between right-wing fundamentalists or moderates too scared to fight the fundamentalists and completely powerless to enact any real change if they are elected. And so, the people boycott elections... call it “voting for Nader,” if you will.. call it not playing the conservative-vs.-slightly-less-conservative two-party game. Call it a soul-crushingly overwhelming feeling of political powerlessness. Whatever you call it, the people and the government of Iran are two separate entities with two separate goals – a difference, most Iranians would agree, is greater than any difference between Iranians and Arabs.

listicle 12.²´

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ðððð...If I told you I didn't search for these links, they find me, would you believe me? 'tis true.

ðððð...This summer, I'll be here. Will I pay those drink prices? Heylll No.. thanks to this!

ðððð... I found a new most-beautiful-watch-in-the-world, top left picture. [insert picture of me drooling on the watch here] The watch type.. or style? ..is called a jump hour watch and I -will- own one someday. Anyone got any tips on a good pyramid scheme? Now accepting donations.

ðððð...The above replaces this watch as the most-beautiful-watch-in-the-world.

ðððð... from the only blog I read daily (she's hilarious, read more)... your cuteness-quota will be filled for the day

ðððð... OhSweetJeebus - I cant believe I just stumbled across this! - I think about this clip every time I hear the words "Capital I" or .. even see a capital letter I. ..or heck, even whenever I see a big ol' eyeball. considering that I first saw it 28 YEARS AGO.. I'd say the clip/song was pretty impressionable. thank you YourTube and people who upload. Those of you in bands, I double-dog-dare you to record a full length version of the song. Also, I will give you $1.

ðððð... OhSweetDoubleJeebus! - Johnny Cash and Big Bird - Dont Take Your One's To Town.

ðððð... I think I would be in heaven if/when this gets made. I may need to help fund it's completion.

ðððð... Could this guy be the crazy toe massager I wrote about last year?

NFL Draft Sweepstakes - the after

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____Remember when you were growing up, how fast those actual minutes of birthday-present-unwrapping would come and go? How you had been absolutely living for those moments for months and even as they played themselves out, you knew it just wasn't living up to the anticipated glee you thought you'd feel? Yay! A sweater ...smile. - socks! (socks?? seriously?) ahem. "what's umm.. next?" And as you kept an eye on the dwindling bounty of presents, your relatively undeveloped mind somehow, in those rapidly shrinking moments, understood things like nihilism, the illusionary falsehood of anticipation and Buddhist tenets of desire as the source of all suffering - you 'got it'; you understood then and there that you'd built up a model for earthly nirvana that couldn't really exist while simultaneously berating yourself for that shallow greed that had you wanting more.
____Such was the reality of the Sprint to the NFL Draft Sweepstakes.
____Don't get me wrong; I had a blast. I had a "unique experience" that I'll "remember always". Yes. I had tickets to the NFL Draft and I had a 40th floor hotel room with Central Park view that, for three nights, cost more than my monthly rent. And yet......
____As I "unwrapped" each of my sweepstakes "presents", something seemed... strangely missing. Siphoned off, I found out later, by the very people bestowing my free weekend. [insert suspenseful music here] don't worry, I'll explain. But before I do, I'll reiterate, I had a truly great weekend and I'll always remember it as such.
____So.. I left work Friday at 1pm, rushing to get Hambone to the vet for what turned out to be him expertly feigning a broken leg (later that night, my roommate Brian said he was running around without even a limp - thanks Hambone! I didn't really need that $225) The boys needed their shots anyway so I'll mentally chalk up the $225 to vaccinations and not to a desperate cry for attention Hambone seemed to think was necessary. But I digress....
____I made it up to the Hilton hotel 10 minutes before I was supposed to be there, set down my bag in the room and waited for a call from the Sweepstakes folks. Right on time, the call came in. The voice, I intuited (correctly, it turned out) to be that of a southern Cal mid-level marketing rep with a heaping helping of "So-Cal street-cred". He said there was a bit of a problem that would be corrected within the hour - It seems the "limo" that was to pick us all up turned out to be one of those luxury airport type vans and as my sweepstakes' contact's boss told me later "yeah, like we're gonna pick up Matt Leinart in a luxury airport van!" (OH, the horror!) - so... a slight delay while they got their stretch limo coordinated... it'd meet us in midtown where we'd make a van-to-limo switch and then proceed on towards the Union Square W hotel to pick up Leinart and his agent.
____The sweepstakes guys were nice enough, for sure; friendly, accommodating and most definitely, in possession of a crazy amount of street cred with no qualms over displaying it proudly. (facetiousness alert). They seemed overly concerned with my thinking that this sweepstakes thing was the coolest thing ever and how I was basically living out the pinnacle of possibilities the American dream could ever imagine for someone. What was kind of fun and funny for me was that I went along with it. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I went along with it because I didn't want to disappoint them (hmm, the birthday present analogy again?). As we rode in the limo south towards the W, sweepstakes-rep-#-2 (the "boss") was in almost constant contact with Matt Leinart's agent, coordinating where and when we'd pick them up; would we need to use the back entrance of the hotel to avoid the fans out front? would they have enough time to eat or shower before we picked them up? could we.... wait ... while Matt's agent ate a sandwich? No, really. Esra and I sat in the limo while the agent ate a sandwich and Matt took a shower. Honestly, I didn't really mind. The scene out in front of the hotel was hilariously entertaining. Fan boys in NFL jerseys and baseball caps stood out front with their deflated footballs and loose jerseys or 8x10 photos, eagerly waiting and peering into every dark windowed limo or SUV, waiting, hoping for Matt Leinart or any other famous person to sign their... stuff. (sign my stuff, sign my stuff!! - maybe it's just me, but I don’t understand the joy of having stuff signed by famous people - minus the signature I got from Dr Seuss, age 11)
____And then the time came for my every hope and dream to be fulfilled - Matt fought off fan boys with a few signatures here and there and then, reaching the limo... genuine smiles and handshakes for Esra and I - and off we went.
____The conversation flowed much easier than I thought it might.. rather, it wasn't as awkward as it had the potential to be. We talked about the crazy media-week he'd been having, with ESPN riding his coattails, filming his every move - luckily, for him at least, the nonstop filming had ended earlier that day and his sense of relief seemed obvious. We covered the up & down nature of his draft stock (he'd been slated to be picked anywhere from number 3 to number 13 depending on which butt-kissing or butt-kicking sports journalist you were reading - and if you think #3 vs. #10 doesn't matter (#10 was where he ended up getting picked), most sportscasters are agreeing that he would have been at least $40mil in guaranteed money richer had he gone at # 3) and then talked about what teams he would like to go to. I said at one point "I read that you were out in Oakland, how did that go?"... I heard "it went great" - but at that precise moment, something distracting passed by out the window and during the time it took me to look at it, I heard "I love the Raiders, I've been a fan since I was a kid" - my brain seemed to spin it's wheels for a moment because I wasn't sure who had just said that, Matt Leinart or his agent. I looked back and stammered out "sorry, did you.... say you were a Raider fan??!" He laughed 'cause he caught the fact that I was asking because I genuinely wasn't sure who had just said it and agreed that yes, he and his brother had grown up in Pasadena as huge LA Raider fans. He said he'd love to play for the Raiders and of course would love to stay in California but that he was hoping he wouldn't slide down as far as the Raiders pick (number 7) and would hopefully be picked by New Orleans, Tennessee or the NY Jets - which segued us into him asking about NY and it's weather - how if we had to name some major differences between So Cal and NY, what would they be (not enough Raider fans, not enough good Mexican food). We talked about watches and the mammoth one he was being paid to wear to which he quoted, almost verbatim, his umm.. blog on NFL.com saying that he had a major watch and shoe fetish. Sounds bites. This man has done far too many interviews lately. Hmm. ok, break him out of the sound bite routine - I know, the Raiders!! (heheheh... everything comes back to the Raiders) How was Al Davis? Amazing, what a football mind and really nice - they talked for a few hours on nothing but football after having a great workout for the Raider trainers & scouts. What had he done in NY so far? Site seeing... the basics, but it was hard with an ESPN crew in tow. Hmm.. what else... do I want to know... from this 23 year old kid? Hmm... But before I got to ask if he wanted to have a whiskey-on-fire drinking contest, he was handed his agent's phone, saying he had to do a phone interview with some sports writer and Tiki and Rhonde Barber. That lasted most of the rest of the ride up to the ESPN Zone which was fine by me - the guy had had a ridiculously long week and was somehow doing amazingly well with this Sprint contest winner so I was fine listening to a live interview, conducted by two great football players to a potentially great future football player.
____We arrived at the ESPN Zone and the fan boys swarmed. "Matt!" "Matt!" "You're Great!" "Sign This!!" "Who's that hot Iranian lookin' guy with the hot Turkish lookin' girl behind you?" - you know.. the normal things I hear ... in my own head. We entered, were arm-banded by a hostess and before I could even look up, Matt was introducing me to Braylon Edwards, wide receiver for the Cleveland Browns. We were then led behind a black curtain where there were lots of... hmm, how do I describe this without sounding.... business jerks. Sorry. Plain and simple, there were -a lot- of business jerks. Suits with cocktails and finger foods and networking upon schmoozing upon networking. "Matt, I'd like you to meet so&so from AOL" - "Matt! great to meet you!" with a firm business jerk handshake. So & so from Burger King and this company and that and of course Sprint. I chatted briefly with the event planner for the evening, a Ben-Stiller's-wife-look-alike who explained (needlessly, thanks) the benefits of networking and corporate tie-ins with sports stars and how blah blah blah I'm gonna get another drink now.
____And so... we ate and drank a little, we chatted with publicists and agents. Matt introduced me to Shawne Merriman of the Chargers annnnd... another h-e-uuu-ge player who's name I didn't catch. As Matt got dragged from meet-and-greet to meet-and-greet with the different business jerks dying to meet him, he'd shoot me a here-we-go-again look or a few times, he waved me over, I think to help get him out of a particularly awkward meet-and-greet. Frankly, I'm not sure how any of these guys do it without snapping. There's gotta be a mathematical formula involving your projected draft pick number having a direct relation to your level of tolerance for obligation... and business jerks.
____By 7:30 or so, everyone had met and greeted pretty much everyone there. Matt had to get to some sort of dinner with (guess?) more business jerks so we shook hands, I thanked him for the hospitality, wished him luck and jokingly made him promise to introduce me to Al Davis when "we picked him with the #7 pick". And that was it. We said our goodbyes to the sweepstakes handlers and one or two of the less annoying business jerks, I got my tickets for the draft the next day and we beat a hasty retreat to our hotel room where.... we ran the ever-famous hotel-indecision-gauntlet of what and where to eat - finally justifying, after much effort, a far too expensive room service meal.
____Saturday. the big getting-out-of-a-limo-on-national-TV day! yeah! except- No. I got a call from our main sweepstakes handler guy with, I kid you not, the full "calling in sick to work voice" in full effect. "Heyyy, Kory... man... how.. um.. set were you on the breakfast at our hotel thing?" - Eh, that's ok. "ok, cool... we'll uhh, definitely swing by and pick you up for the trip to Radio City Music Hall" - Ok, cool. Two hours later I got another call, no call-in-sick voice this time "Hey, Kory.. bad news man.. we got in the limo, I said we had one stop to pick you guys up before Radio City and the limo driver said 'no can do, I'm slated for one stop only, no pick ups'" - yeah-right - it's two blocks away and YOU're paying for the limo, you cant make him go two extra blocks? Ok, whatever. In hindsight, I suppose that's where I started to get a little irked at being jerked around. No matter.. I walked, met my buddy Matt out front and we entered the fantastic fan-atic fray (pardon the punny poetics please).
____Radio City Music Hall, as you can imagine or have seen, is amazing. The place was packed with media and fans from all 32 teams, about 2/3rds of which sported out of date team jerseys. It was much as you might expect from a convention-type atmosphere - food booths, corporate tie-in booths manned by 20-something day-laborers (business jerks, notably absent) and of course, everybody's favorite, the shwag booth. Anyone paying enough attention to the booth as they walked by stopped to get their complimentary bag of: a radio with headphones to listen to NFL Network or ESPN coverage of the draft, an NFL folder with draft info papers within, some Topps football cards, a Sirius radio ballpoint pen, a Sprint phone card and $.75 cents off Chunky soup coupons (McNabb's mom was in attendance, I suspect she stuffed all the bags with coupons herself) and... what else? hmm. oh, a Chunky-soup-imprinted beer cozy... 'cause.. you know, you keep your Chunky soup in beer cans that you like to keep cold or... you uhh... fit your hot Chunky soup into beer cozies that... yeah, it's making my brain all cloudy thinkin' about why they included that. Oh and .. .Wait! the best thing ever!! EVER!!! a huge, 6 page fold out poster of the new Hummer II!! I know!!! You want it on your bedroom wall? I know!! Sorry, I'm framing mine. By framing I mean, I left it on the floor and tore it with my feet before I left.
____What else? Oh, yeah. the Draft. Good god is it slow and boring. I mean really, people - I know this is your big day in the spotlight but that artificial feeling of suspense you create by using ALL of your allotted time to make your picks is just that - artificial and everyone knows it and is annoyed by it. The Houston Texans, picking first had already picked and signed their #1 pick 10 hours before the draft actually got underway and yet they still took 11 of their allotted 15 minutes to formally have their pick announced at the podium!! And so it went - every pick.. pick announced, come to the podium, handshakes, hold up new jersey for photos, announce the next team is "on the clock" and then wait. and wait. - repeat.
____We stayed for Matt's team's picks (Minnesota at # 17) though we almost lost patience waiting for it. By #14 or so, a lot of attendees had already lost patience and split, allowing Matt and I to sneak down to the floor level and get a ground-level view of things. Ahh. Which leads me to the main "prize siphoning" I mentioned at the beginning. You see, it was told to me in the limo, the day before, that the sweepstakes guys had "fought hard" to get the two tickets for me and they weren't even sure they could get themselves in to the draft. The seats Matt and I had were second mezzanine, which actually turned out to be a great view, above the huge NFL Network and ESPN news desks and cameras that blocked a major part of the view of the ground floor folks. Well, wouldn't ya know it, our sweepstakes handler guys somehow did get tickets and ... hmm... interesting... THEIR seats happened to be on the ground floor. No way. I never could have seen that coming. "Hey, Kory.. where are you guys at?" said one of them via cell phone near the end of the day. After I told him where, I heard "woah, no way, I thought you guys were on the floor too". Frankly, it wasn't the siphoning of the good tickets or not picking us up in the limo on draft day - it was the totally transparent lying and half-assed cover up attempts that were, well.. a little bit insulting. But again, whatever. See? again, I'm feeling a little guilty for complaining a bit about what was a free gift. The point is, if you're giving someone a gift, don’t go buy something new but then give the 10 year old used one you had lying around your house.
____Esra and I spent Saturday afternoon in Central Park, four blocks away. Near sunset, it got windy rather quickly so we headed back to the hotel and prepared for a little wine party thing we had slated for the eve. (worthy of note: friends who work at places that have alumni parties but accidentally buy too much wine for the alumni which then gets drunk by the friends of said friend... well, those friends rule.)
____Sunday was the real Central Park day - sandwiches and a blanket at Sheep Meadow. Does it get any better? No. the answer is No, it doesn't. Well... barring all ladies in the park being naked, No, it doesn't. We lounged, we sun-tanned, we ate, chatted and people-watched. Esra's friend Holly joined us and we did more of the same. Around 6:30 or so, it started to get a bit cold so we headed back to the hotel, rested a bit (you know, from our exhausting day), we got some food and watched the Sopranos.
____All in all, an absolutely great weekend. It really wasn't even worth mentioning the sweepstakes-handler-guys and the siphoning but darn it, that was part of the weekend and you know for a fact that you would wonder what was wrong with me if I didn't complain a little. I wouldn't want you to worry... so... the whole truth and nothing but is what I gave ya.

I'll have pictures up soon.