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On This Day
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A New York Experience

Billions of the people get on the bus each day and rely on the bus driver to safely take them to their destination…NOT ME. I’ve lived a semi-pampered/sheltered life during the last 10 years, which makes it hard for me to let go and let someone else be in charge of my environment.

Missed bus

On Thursday I left home around 10 to travel to NY, via public transportation. As I was driving to the bus stop, I couldn’t get there as quickly as I wanted to because there was a bus in front of me. After being stuck behind the bus for about 2 minutes I finally realized that I was supposed to be ON that bus. I overtook the bus, sped to the next stop, found a parking space, and sprinted to the bus stop. Unfortunately I wasn’t quick enough to get on that bus and it sped right past me, leaving me to wait for the next one.

I sat at the sheltered bust stop type thing and patiently waited for the next bus, which came 20 minutes later. I boarded the following bus, but since I’ve never rode on a bus alone I didn’t know how much was the cost for round trip fare. I figured that a 1/2 hour trip shouldn’t cost more than $20, so I handed him the bill and said “round trip,” hoping that I used the correct bus-lingo. The driver (who looked very angry) took the money, stuck it in his shirt pocket, closed the door and kept driving…..while I stood there waiting. Was I supposed to get a receipt of some kind? Did it cost $20 to ride the bus? Why wasn’t this dude giving me anything back?

I took things in stride and spotted an open seat on the somewhat crowded bus. When I began to walk to the seat the bus driver slammed brakes and I went flying to the front of the bus. As I held on to the bar for dear life, the driver handed me my change with a yellow tag type thing, and murmured “have a seat.” I wasn’t liking this.

Now, I’m generally a nice guy, but this was going to be a long ride so I found 2 empty seats and sat down in the middle of both of them—an act that screams “I’M SELFISH, DON’T SIT NEXT TO ME.” At the very next bus stop, a guy who couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing boarded the bus. Guess where he sat?? Right next to the selfish, 1st-time-riding-public-transportation-in-his-life passenger. JUST GREAT!

The ride was full of coughing, sneezing, “excuse me’s” and “God bless you’s,” but luckily the bus arrived in NY half-hour later and my interaction with the sick passenger was finally over.

At the port authority I met up with my friend and she gave me a tour of the city, which included a trip to: the atrium of the Marriott hotel, Times Square, Grand Central station, Central Park, the HOT subway, and some other places that I can’t remember.

Now for the part that everyone actually cares about…the pictures:

Homeless Guy
Some random homeless dude sleeping on the streets

Elevator
The elevator in the hotel…hotness

Mad Taxis
Lots-o-Taxis

Lights in the Hotel
Lights in the Marriott

One Bentley
Outside of the hotel I saw this car with 1 tall black guy inside. I knew that he was some sort of NBA Player, but I didn’t recognize his face

Two Bentley
Seconds later, a different color of the same car pulled out of the hotel garage. Inside, I recognized Spyda from “Streetball” on ESPN and “And1 Mixtape Volumes 5 & 6.” For anyone who’s wondering, the car is a Rolls Royce and it’s LONG.

CRUSHED Car
This truck toppled this car. The worst part was that this street is a 1 way and there’s no other way for the cars to get past. The car—Mercedes CL600…a $130,000+ car…somebody’s got some ‘xplaining to do.

Horse
One of the horses that pull the carriages around Central Park. He looked very unhappy, but then again if you had to walk all day, everyday you would be unhappy too.

Protestor, or something
This was random and I didn’t catch the point of why he was there.

All in all it was a good experience and I’ll do it again sometime soon…but next time I have to drive the bus and no one is allowed to sit next to me.

Birthday Wishes

For Christmas of 2004, I asked for an Apple iMac—the cheapest Apple computer available at the time. I never actually thought that I’d get the Mac because it far exceeded the normal holiday budget of my parents, but I stayed consistent. Every time I was asked “what do you want for Christmas,” I always answered “an iMac.” When Christmas came, I not only got a Mac, but I got the flagship model of the Apple empire—the $2,000 G5 Super Computer/Cheesegrater.

Well, my birthday is coming up and I’ve decided to use the same principle to prepare my birthday list.

For my Birthday, I want
1) 1998 Lexus LS400
'98 Lexus LS400

2) $2,700
I’m severely over the miles on my lease, so the only way that I can turn in my car 14 months early is to shell out $2700, and the only other way for me to earn $2700 is to sell my soul, and/or my bod…..uh…. Nevermind.

3) (optional) A zebra
How many people can honestly say that they own a zebra?!?

So that’s my list. It is mainly directed towards the people who I live with, but if you feel like paypalling me $2700, or buying a zebra for me, don’t fight the feeling.

As my dad said, “you don’t get what you want, you get what you expect” and I am expecting a zebra with a $2700 check in his mouth to be sitting in the driver’s seat of a Lexus or Jaguar parked in my driveway on August 3. Now make it happen.

The Workstation

For the first time this year, you are hereby invited to explore my workstation/desk. Click each photo for a larger image with superimposed comments.

My desk (5)

My Workstation (1)

My desk (2)

My desk (3)

My desk (4)

The Brisk Walk That Turned into a Mad Dash

I woke up at 7am this morning to take a walk around my neighborhood. Why? Because I’m random like that.

I started west on my block, then I turned onto a slightly busier block. A few hundred yards later, I made a left, a right, and another right and somehow ended up on the highway. I was on the shoulder of the highway staring at the fast-moving traffic straight ahead. I had 2 choices: 1) kiss the front end of moving semi-trucks, or 2) run like mad. Since I’m here to write this entry, you can guess which option I chose.

When I exited at the nearest exit, which happened to be about a mile down the road, I was in desperate need of a tank of oxygen, but the journey wasn’t over. I had a 1.5 mile walk home and my body kept telling me “just collapse already!”

When I finally got home, I dragged myself into my bed and passed out from exhaustion.

8 hours later, I woke up to type this entry.

1) Meet me 2) Remember me

I meet an average of 2 new people each day, but most people forget about me within a week of the initial meeting. My goal is to be stuck in the mind of those who I encounter like a tumor…a malignant tumor.

After thinking about different ways of achieving this goal, I came up with 3 options:
1) an 8×10 picture of myself
2) a Geremy F replica bobble head doll
3) a personal business card

Since an 8×10 of myself would probably be hard to handle because of the large size, and a bobble head doll would be too heavy (and freaky), I settled on the business card idea.

I want to be unorthodox by having a vertical business card rather than the typical horizontal format that everyone uses. Also, I want a simple design on the front with a brief summary of myself on the back. I want it to be simply amazing.

Biggest problem: I can’t design my way out of a paper bag (whatever that means), so I am enlisting the help of some of the visitors of this site. If you want to give it a whirl, contact me via e-mail, and you can be paid via cash, or some sort of barter system (I’ll give you my first born child).

Keep your eyes open, Geremology business cards are on the horizon.

The Three Salesmen

WARNING! STEREOTYPES AHEAD!

Earlier this week, I went with my pops to an exotic car dealership to buy, well, an exotic car and we were approached by 3 men who I would like to label “The Three Stereotypical Salesmen.”

Salesman # 1 looked like his name was “Big Al” . Big Al was a large man who wore at least 30 gold chains. Every word that came out of Big Al’s mouth sounded like a lie. Big Al seemed like the type of guy who would roll back odometers to fool a buyer into thinking that they are getting a car with 10,000 miles when they are actually getting a car with two gillion miles on it.

After my dad briefly spoke to Big Al about the car, salesman # 2 smoothly stepped into the office while speaking very loudly into his phone. I highly doubt that salesman # 2 was speaking to anyone on the phone because he seems like the type of guy who would speak to an imaginary person on his cell phone just to make people believe that he is someone important.

Salesman # 2 looked like his name was “Pretty Ricky.” Pretty Ricky was a tall guy who had light brown hair and hazel eyes. Pretty Ricky obviously thought that he was Mr. Hot Stuff. Pretty Ricky seemed like the type of guy who would be your best friend until you decide not to buy a car from him. For some reason, Pretty Ricky knew every way to push my buttons and I didn’t like it. Pretty Ricky, Pretty Ricky.

When my dad, Pretty Ricky, and Geremy (I like to refer to myself in third person from time to time) hopped into the car to take it for a test drive, Pretty Ricky nibbled on a “fun sized” bag of mini peanuts the entire time. He didn’t nibble on the peanuts itself, he nibbled on the plastic bag that contained the peanuts as if he was a little mouse. Pretty Ricky nibbled on the plastic so incessantly that I started to believe that the manufacturer of the plastic peanut bag soaked it in syrup. I couldn’t pay attention to anything in the car because Pretty Ricky nibbled as loudly as a hungry African wildebeest. STOP IT ALREADY, RICK!

When it came time to negotiate a price, the friendly faces of the two salesmen turned into the ferocious faces of hungry vultures. The men did not want to decrease the price at all, and they made it very known. When my dad pulled the old-fashioned “walk away and make them run after me” negotiating technique, salesman # 3 appeared out of nowhere.

Salesman # 3 meant business. He’s the genuine type of salesman who actually knows what he’s doing and is not out to scam you. Salesman # 3 seemed so innocent that I won’t give him a degrading nickname…he’s simply, “Salesman # 3.”

Just as my dad and I got into the car to drive away, salesman # 3 knocked on the window with his soft knuckles, and used his soft voice to settle on a price for the car that my dad was happy with.

…yet we didn’t complete the purchase.

I learned a few valuable lessons today:
1) Most salesmen fall into one of the three stereotypes
2) You must look for the “salesman # 3” if you want to be happy
3) If you are hungry, don’t nibble on the package—JUST OPEN THE BAG AND EAT THE NUT.