I was driving to “Love Park” when I saw a group of people with delirious expressions, dressed in all white, and prancing with toy kites towards the love statue. Upon first glance, I thought that the crazies were let free from the hospital, but after doing a bit of research, I found out that these people were promoting the opening of a cirque du soleil show. Excellent form of guerrilla advertisement. Ten years from now when I’m invited to speak in different cities across the world, I will release rabid gorillas in the city’s center with “GEREMY IS HERE” shaved in the hairs onto their backs. How’s that for guerilla advertising?!
I eat cereal every single day. For my 22nd birthday I got a cereal dispenser for QUICK DISPENSING POWERRR. At least once a week, I leave work for lunch in the middle of the day to satisfy my cereal craving. Some people call me a cereal killer–I prefer the term “fanatic”. So naturally when I heard that there is a “starbucks-type” cereal cafe in Philly, serving only cereal, I had to take a visit.
Cereality is located in Philadelphia across the street from UPenn’s campus and it quickly became my paradise. I almost began to giddily-giggle as I entered into the store and saw all of the cereal options, toppings, additions and flavors that I could’ve added to my meal to create the perfect concoction.
“Sir, what can I get for you today?”
“Give me the ‘Life Experience’… no… the ‘Jump Start’…. NO! I want the ‘You Snooze, You Lose’….nevermind… I want frosted flakes, and….AND STRAWBERRIES. YEAH!”
They almost brought me to tears.
“…and add some caramel to my cereal! And I’ll take one of those spoon-straw things too! A blue one! And make it 2% milk… I’m watching my figure!”
I whipped out my camera and started to take pictures of the place when I was fiercely interrupted by the cashier who turned quickly transitioned the fake-smile facade to an intense frown. “DID YOU JUST TAKE A PICTURE OF THE MENU?!” I replied, “Nah, just taking a picture of the sign,” to which he responded, “OK, just DO NOT take a picture of the menu.” Ok, calm down buddy…
I retreated back to the car to eat the cereal, which was served in a round chinese take-out box. Overall the cereal was “ehhh,” simply because no one is a better cereal chef than me. I might not be able to boil a pot of water, but I can definitely make the best cereal known to man, as evidenced by the weak showing of the competition. BELIEVE THAT.
The exhilarating feeling of being scared on an amusement park ride doesn’t have the same effect when there is a large possibility that you might actually die. The carnival came to town this week and my seven year old brother just had to be there because “everyone from school” was going to be there and, of course, he wanted everyone to see his super-cool older brother.
We loaded the family into my car and drove to the carnival, which was situated in a parking lot. We bought tickets and began scoping out which rides to use them on. The first ride that I saw was the Gravitron, so I boarded it with my little brother and prepared myself for nonstop fun and excitement.
We stepped into the spaceship-like ride and stood against the wall as directed. I looked to my left and saw vomit against the wall–a clear indication that it was time to find a new place to stand. We walked about 10 feet away to a new location and awkwardly inspected our surroundings as we waited for the ride to start. An extremely bright light emitted from the ceiling caught my attention, but upon further inspection I realized that “the light” was the sun and there was a giganto hole in the roof. What caused that hole?? Did a kid fly out of the ceiling?!? Is this ride safe?! I didn’t want to stick around to find out.
I grabbed the brother and began to walk towards the exit, but then the door closed and the ride began to spin. I had two options: 1) attempt to write my will in my phone’s notepad, or 2) hold onto my kid brother and hope that we leave the ride with all of our limbs. I couldn’t let my brother die because it would severely mess up his perfect attendance record in school, so I made it my duty to sacrifice myself for his well-being.
The ride was a failed safety inspection waiting to happen. Screws were loose, dry vomit was on the floors, and I don’t think that the Gravitron operator was wearing any clothes (which could’ve been the cause of the vomit). Luckily, my brother and I came out of the ride unscathed.
I closely observed the condition of the other rides and realized that they were of the same caliber as the Gravitron. Rust spots were repainted, screws were loose, entire parts were missing, green fluid was dripping, and the ride operators didn’t seem to care about safety at all. This marked the end of my excitement. I couldn’t ride anymore of the rides because I’d probably lose a finger and I needed to keep all of them to type this journal entry.
On Sunday afternoon I came home, changed clothes, and got prepared to battle THE BIKE once again. Physically, I was not prepared for a bike ride due to the scrapes that were left on my body from the first fall, but emotionally I was ready–I made the decision that I was not going to let a tiny fall (and a lot of blood) hold me back from my original journey!
I slowly drove the bike to the end of the driveway and then I suddenly stopped. That’s when it hit me…I had NO IDEA where I wanted to go. I should’ve probably planned this journey a little better.
I made a left, then a right, then a left, then another left, rolled down a hill, made a slight right, then a sharp left, and turned right. I looked up at the building before me and realized that I was at an oh-so-familiar place. I was staring at the last place that I wanted to see on a weekend. I was looking at my workplace. I had to get away…quickly.
I headed north and ended up on a two-lane highway with a black Honda Civic riding 5 inches from my back tire. I was peddling so fast that the kenetic energy that the bike was producing could’ve powered a 100 watt lightbulb for a week and a half.
I turned onto a side street and regained my composure. Everything was a lot calmer and I was no longer sweating bullets. Two seconds later, HONK!!! A little silver Toyota Prius was driving behind me and I had no idea because the car is absolutely silent. If Obama vowed to pass a law that states that all hybrid cards must hang a bell on the front grill to alert all pedestrians of its proximity, I’d vote for him for sure.
I was happy when I re-arrived home safely because the lack of a helmet and the vicious drivers made me continually question whether I’d return home in one piece. The entire trip gave my nerves a workout but, as predicted on 3/24/2008 @ 8:51pm, I EMERGED VICTORIOUS!
Next stunt: Bear wrestling!
Four days after returning from Massachusetts, I left New Jersey en route to Virginia for a work related assignment with a client. Although the trip’s intention was not for fun, I made sure to enjoy the experience of traveling to a new state. The drive to Virginia was great but the drive back was long and rough because of the traffic associated with the Pope’s appearance in the Washington DC area.
The worst part of the trip was when I stopped to refuel at an Exxon gas station. I got out of the car, lifted the fuel hose to stick it into my gas tank and a few ounces of gas residue dripped onto my pants. I started smelling like a pyromaniac and the “sweet savor” of 93 octane fuel embedded itself into my slacks.
As my last precautionary measure to avoid any other hiccups in the drive back home, I went to use the public bathroom in the Exxon. As soon as I entered the bathroom my eyes began to water from the strong stench that smelled like a mix of excretion, train smoke, and vinegar. After I left the bathroom, the smell was still stuck in my nose and I kept having weird flashbacks of the nightmare-riffic bathroom. The combination of the bathroom’s smell and the smell of my gas-pants made me want to vomit, and I had to live with it for 6 hours.
When I got home, I passed out in my room until 10am the next day. I didn’t get the smell out of my nose until yesterday–13 days later.
The drive back to NJ from MA was ferocious and weather conditions made it tough to drive. As soon as I got on the highway, raindrops the size of 8lb newborn babies started falling from the sky. As if this wasn’t bad enough, the sun turned on its high-beams and focused its light directly on my windshield. Nevertheless, I got home safe and successfully completed my 1st mission to Boston, MA.
I met a young man in Boston who was 2 years old but had the mental capability of someone twice his age. Introducing my greatest friend’s (Erika’s) godson. When I pulled out my camera to take a picture of him, he stuck his arm out and said “iwaa-takea-pikta,” which Erika quickly translated into “he said that he wants to take a picture.”
I liked his pro-activeness!
Before handing him the camera, I insisted on taking my pictures of him. First he showed me his happy face….
…then he showed me his “angry face” (which was the exact same expression as the happy face, except he squeezed his hands closed really tightly to properly communicate the angriness)
Then I handed him the camera to take his own pictures, which came out a lot better than the ones I took…
On Saturday morning at 6:30 am, I left the house with my GPS, two cell phones and an umbrella on hand and I drove north. I was driving to Boston, Massachusetts and had a ton of motivation to keep me entertained throughout the four hour drive.
I had an aggressive itinerary in place, which included:
- visiting the Smart Car dealership to place an order for the smart car that I wanted so badly
- visiting The Johnny Cupcakes Store, a wonderful example of a self-made, self-driven multi-millionaire who achieved success through his own uniqueness
- visiting Bodega–undoubtedly the best and most exclusive sneaker store on the East Coast, known only to sneakerheads like myself
- and, most importantly, dropping in for a surprise birthday visit to my friend Erika six days before her birthday. I’m random like that.
Overall, I would consider the trip to be a huge success and a great kickoff to my Great Exploration plan. Over the next few days I will be covering the lessons-learned, things discovered, and random points of entertainment that I experienced during this trip.
…and for the record, I was disappointed to find out that the sweeping stereotypes were wrong and not everyone spoke with the widely-fabled “BAWSTON” accent.
The United States is a huge place and I haven’t seen enough of it since I’ve been in school all of my life. I live in a beautiful little town with a little over 10,000 people, but there is so much more out there in this world. That is why I am starting my newest endeavor:
My goal is to venture out of my small town in New Jersey and see the rest of the world, starting with the United States. As I travel, I will admire the scenery of the various states, collect and understand the habits and customs of non-jersey folks, pick up some friends on the way, and hopefully pick up some ideas for future endeavours. My ultimate goal in life is to build a conglomerate into an empire, in which I will preside as the King/Emperor and should bring me one step closer to my destiny.
My adventure has already begun, but there is so much more ground to cover…
Last night I went to the IZOD Center to see the Nets reduce the Hawks to utter ruin. Midway through the Hawks’ comedic performance on the court, my friend and I went to the food stand to find some nourishment; however, all I got instead was a tummy full of belches and “food” that was probably chemically charged.
I looked through the food options: hot dogs, shrimp and fries or “chicken” tenders and fries. My best option seemed to be the “chicken” tenders and fries so I put it on my tray, paid $85 to the cashier for the meal and headed back to my seat. I took my first bite into the “chicken” and realized that they forgot a key ingredient in the recipe–flavor! In order to remedy the situation I retrieved some sweet and sour sauce and dipped the second piece of the “chicken.” As soon as the “chicken” entered my body, I began to burp. Midway through my fourth consecutive burp, I took another bite and almost threw up in my mouth. I was DONE.
If you are ever faced with the opportunity to eat “chicken” tenders from a sports facility, please make sure to find out where the chicken came from. Come to think of it, I didn’t see the Nets’ mascot at all during the game–maybe he was the mystery meat!