i HEART top 10's

everybody loves a good top 10 list. well--a top 5, at least. and as the last days in december are here, everyone is clamoring to be the first to repeat what everyone was saying sixth months ago.

you can read the top 10 music pics from mark or marian. or you can head over to the (apparent) latest essence-of-cool guru, josh spear, and read about his pics for the top music/books/food/design/trends/(OMGjoshspearis socool)
of the last year. everyone wants a piece of the action.

in honor the new year, the last year, and all of my friends and their love for the top 10, i will post my very own. the top 10 SHOULDN'T BE DONE's of 2005:

SBD #10: shopping at wal-mart. as always.

SBD #9: the atkins diet. the south beach diet. dieting. it's so 2002. let's all shop at wal-mart.

SBD #8: hitchhiking on milwaukee's i-94 on-ramp.

SBD #7: spederline. tomkat. jen + brad. the newlyweds. or knowing anything about them.

SBD #6: wearing a speedo to the airport.

SBD #5: especially after the world's disasterly year of storms, riding anything but a vespa.

SBD #4: michael jackson. neverland. his trial. but never his music.

SBD #3: iraq, and it not being over. let's just eat cake: welcome home, martha. welcome home.

SBD #2: the world as we know it. i'm calling for a recall of the world. make i-heart the new world. no--pink is the new world. make american idol/lost/trading spaces the new world. or starbucks/wal-mart/fedexkinkos. something. anything...

SBD #1: blogging. and everything involved.

happy new year! take a little SBD out of 2006 and have a super sweet new year.

casino christmas

from the beginning, i was skeptical about spending christmas in minnesota. the truth is, i would rather be snowboarding in colorado than ice fishing in the frozen north. however, like a good son should, i made the pilgrimage.

my family and i arrived in st. paul within an hour of each other. they picked me up, and we headed 1.5 hours further north. the plan:
1) get to the timeshare
2) purchase groceries
3) find a christmas tree
4) make dinner, decorate the tree, and have a beautiful minnesota christmas.

plans changed. by the time we found our accomodations, the five o'clock hour was nearing; we soon found that any chance for grocery shopping had ended at 4pm. my idea was to play "family christmas scavenger hunt" going door to door asking for the dinner ingredients. mom mumbled something about "oh patrick, i'm sure you would love that--" and i got the feeling she wasn't all that into the idea.

our only hope: an indian reservation with a casino and market 30 minutes north. we hopped in the car, ready to meet the ojibwe tribe at their hot casino. but to my mother's dismay, this market, too, had closed at four. the family had a moment of silence. . . and we headed for the casino. we were greeted with large signs blaring the "$12.99 prime rib special," the noise of the slots, and the omnipresent cigarette smoke.

i could only squeeze about two dollars out of my dad to play the 5¢ slots, and after a family conference on how to actually play the thing, i promptly lost it all. sean and i proposed the greatest casino heist of all time: the little tree in the corner could easily become our own. mom rolled her eyes.

the new plan:
1) find a christmas tree
2) eat dinner at the casino

we rolled down the road toward a gas station. plans changed again. sean and i decided to shop at the convenience store for christmas dinner. a box of pasta, jar of sauce, and loaf of bread later, we drove on, hoping to find that special christmas tree. squinting out my window, i barely spied it. across the highway, under a darkened porch, were the remains of a christmas tree sale. as we approached, mom's eyes lit up, and i knew she wouldn't mind that we would be performing a more subdued heist. i soon found out that mom would be the one to manhandle the whole thing.

we stepped out of the car, surveying what was left of the sale. simultaneously, mom and i walked toward the same tree. it was perfect. the branches were sturdy, and the smell was invigorating. we knew this was it. the only problem: it was nailed down to a board to keep it there--i mean, to keep it standing up there. with more family unity than i have seen since my dad tried moving the family to kansas, we pulled and pulled, un-securing the tree, and quickly shoving it into our trailblazer.

the ride home home was nice. mom kept commenting on how good the tree smelled, and i kept thinking how i would enjoy the convenience store dinner. ah, yes. a casino, a pasta dinner, and a fresh christmas tree: mom's perfect minnesota christmas.


p.s. - mom wanted to be sure everyone knows we will be paying for the tree as soon as we can. of course, mom. of course.

milwaukee. or busting out and hitch-hiking fun

a moment comes in each of our lives in which we must depart. say goodbye. so long...farewell. auf wiedersehen, audieu. to you and you and you.

and to milwaukee. i had a fantastic time and all, but i needed to go. unfortunately, the day's only greyhound to the twin cities had already left while i was still sleeping that morning. amtrak was somehow full until christmas eve, which wasn't very helpful. all i needed was to go cross-state and end up near the minnesota border so hinkel could pick me up. all of the trains, planes and buses were full--at least, they were totally overrated (and over my budget).

so. hitch-hike, then. i HEART hitch-hiking. and i HEART allison, the very nice pothead of a girl who picked me up just blocks away from the amtrak station. what i didn't like was the fact that allison only needed to go midway into the burbs of waukee, leaving me at the very in-opportune on-ramp somewhere near 82nd street.

i was cold. it was dark. there was a street lamp over me, illuminating my frozen thumb for the vehicles speeding my. early on, i had two offers. when they told me they were going north, i thanked them and sent them on their way. after all, i needed to go west. so i would stay waiting, in the cold. 40 minutes slowly passed, each moment my two thumbs feeling the frosty biting cold.

suddently a car starts toward me. then it pulls over to the shoulder. and then the lights. oh, those lights. blue, white, red, flashing whirling, spinning.

"young man, you can't be here. hitchiking isn't allowed on the interstate."
"i'm not on the interstate. just the on-ramp."
"hitch-hiking isn't allowed here."
"is it allowed anywhere?"
"well. . . i need to get you out of here. i have had a few calls about you."

apparently there were a few folks out there threatened by my frozen presence on the side of the interstate--i mean on-ramp. obviously they couldn't pick me up. and they had to be sure no one else helped me out meeting my parents for christmas. crap, i couldn't even hitch-hike right.

the night had only begun. i didn't sleep that night; instead, i caught the red-eye bus to Madison and thought of how nice it would be spending christmas with my family.

i HEART a cup of joe - milwaukee

the best award for milwaukee's coffee scene goes to alterra coffee. with two locations and a heckofalotta good coffee, alterra has been serving waukee since 1993. i visited the lakeside location several times, and i experienced one of the darkest, richest, earthy cups of joe (alterra's java estate) i've had in months. not only does alterra roast its own beans, but it has a sweet aesthetic sensibility to its goods, wares, and shop environment.

i guess the good ol' midwest may be a ok after all. well, they brew good cup of joe at least.

milwaukee or bust

there is little similarity between the sunny south of florida and the windy north of wisconsin. and that's a good thing.

saturday morning, i left pensacola for the last time, headed to bigger and better things in--none other than--milwaukee, wisconsin. that morning, i headed towards the city of steel and ice that i knew so little about. i suppose i was really the odd man out, as both my friends were headed to the place they have always called home, while i was merely off to another unknown on my journey of unsettling travel.



later that night, we stopped for a coffee break in northern alabama, only to find. . .nothing. except a small road sign that said "detour band tonight 7:30." i looked at my watch and the minute hand was barely grazing the half-hour mark. we were just in time.

soon, we were at this alabama music venue called the country music barn. funny, becasue that is exactly what it was: a barn in the cornfield. inside was music and outside was a lot full of pick-up trucks. later that night, we met the band, their lead singer beverly, and a host of other colorful characters, straight from the alabama countryside. we danced and danced, to the likes of rollin on the river and our request sweet home alabama. although the band was on till eleven, we had to say our thanks and goodbyes at 9:30 (while the band pleaded for us to stay).

a road trip wouldn't be complete without getting pulled over. it happend around 1am that evening. this time, it wasn't for speeding; it was for making an illegal turn. fortunately, the cop decided to follow his fellow officer who flew by us with whirling lights. he quickly handed back our id's and said goodbye, with wishes for a good night.

the days were long, but the christmas lights in the car made us happy. we sang, laughed and slept. we thought of the frozen north ahead of us and forgot about the place we left behind.

later that same night...

after my flight from palm beach international airport, i landed in a much less exclusive locale--namely, pensacola. my motive? one last romp with college friends, a night dubbed movie night 2005. this was a moment that this group of students--namely, team group--had been planning since the semester's onset. as those familiar with the workings of a certain independent-fundamantal-baptist-bible college know, it is impossible for a group of students to "hang" together off-campus, especially after the darkening hours of 11pm.

the semester had ended. the rules could be broken. team group could now frolic in the glory of their unchaperoned bliss, deep into the hours of the night. despite (or perhaps in spite) of an administrator's--namely, joel mullinex--warning that the hours between 12am and 6am are frightfully evil hours, the group of students charged their way into a reckless evening of merriment.

after a victory parking lot dance awaiting my arrival in a neighboring city--namely, fort walton beach--we headed for dinner. a fender bender and a few showers later, we were sitting down to our first meal together outside the bounds of the school. in darker and later hours, we went for a visit to the movie theater, starbucks, destin's largest christmas tree, krispy kreme, *-mart in pajamas, sweet-wannabe-karaoke, etc., etc.

not least in the night's reveling was a visit to fort walton's own 40º beach at 2am. this was perhaps the crowning moment of my night, as i began to realize the true significance of not having done laundry for the last week. due to my lack of underwear, i was still wearing my speedo from the morning's airport misadventure: perfect for a chilly dip-in at the beach. certainly, this could have been performed au naturel; however, i decided my new swimsuit deserved its own christening.

one by one, each team group member dropped off to sleep or into his car to head to the airport. the friends were fantastic, and the frolicking was fun. a true blossoming moment after a disasterly autumn of a semester.

airport fun 2

early this morning at palm beach international airport, i stood scoping out the security line for a willing accomplice--someone to document my imminent task. the victim was a kind twenty-something chick flying to the midwest to visit friends. her curly purple hair was a dead giveaway that she would be up for the task.

after loading my bags on the belt, i continued through the metal detector. promptly, the tsa security guard told me to take off my hat and jacket. unfortunately for him, there was nothing else covering my florida-tanned chest other than that same jacket. and just to be sure, i thought, why don't i make it easier on everybody and take my pants off, too. that way, they won't have a question as to whether i am hiding anything or not. well, my last week of underwear hadn't made it to the laundry yet, so I was wearing a newly acquired speedo in place of my tighty whiteys. i took a breath and prepared to head through the detector, hoping the guard wouldn't mistake my full-bodied speedo for a hidden whatever-they-are-looking-for. they didn't. but then came the screaming from a blond heading full blast toward the security check point.

"sir! sir!! put your clothes back on immediately! what are you--"
"but the gentleman told me to take off my jacket--"
"yeah, but did he tell you to take off your pants??"
"i thought it would be easier--"
"did he tell you to take them off?"
"well, i had so many things in my pockets--"
"did he tell you to take them off?"
"no."
"put your pants on now."
"i guess--"
"screen this guy. i'm keeping an eye on him!"

i began un-stripping while listening to the bustle of murmuring tsa agents behind me.

"when you're through with the search, i want to speak with this guy." i heard from--obviously an important official--a guy with a sweet cop hat and some sort of badge or credentials or something.

i nodded knowingly through the usual "boy, you are stupid" and "what were you thinking?" and "do you think this is a joke?" but all i could think of was the poor little girl with curly purple hair. katrina? jessica? carol? suzanne? fred-- suzanne, that was it. poor suzanne, an innocent pawn in a much larger and more evil scheme of which she had no knowledge. i was sad for her until i looked at the video on my camera and noticed she captured only .5 seconds of me pulling my pants back on. why suzanne, you little--"oh, goodbye suzanne. have a nice flight to chicago! thanks for helpin'!" ergghh.



so after multiple baggage checks and lectures from a lot of very importatnt people, i was told that i would get a fine of up to $10,000, or maybe even a warning! This issue would be sent to "those guys up in washington" and they would decide what to do.

spare me. those guys up in washington happen to be back in connecticut romping with their mistresses as we speak. either that or they are out with their donut and coffee on a smoke break. but who am i to judge?

so now i know what will happen when you just try to make it easy for those good ol' tsa boys: a man behind you will say "never seen that before" and the angry blond tsa woman will yell, clench her teeth, and let it ruin her day. poor gal.

i HEART aqua

i have done the hostel thing. many a times, in fact. and i love the hostel thing. meeting the international not-quite-so-jet-set is always eye-opening and captivating.

however, after hours of transportation from the ft. lauderdale airport to south beach, i needed my own space. and the fact that the same crazy guy showed up at two different tram stations and decided last-minute to hop my bus, trying to be my buddy all along--took it's toll.

i like to make a parallel between my hoteling situation and shopping. when you need some hip, cool new trousers, or a jacket, or a t-shirt--but don't want to pay more than...well, as little as possible, actually-- you should shop at h&m. the quality sucks, but most viewers of your obviously un-paralleled fashion sense aren't nearly discriminating enough to make a negative comment.

so was staying at aqua hotel: the service was basic, the refurbishments were cheap, and the price was moderate. and the look was hip and cool. trendy and minimal. and i loved it. plus, there was free wi-fi and who doesn't HEART that? i have to admit: my thin pocket book would have liked the hostel, but my slightly discriminating tastes HEARTed the modern furniture, the rain-style shower head, and the concrete floor that was little more than the remains of ripped up carpet.

thanks aqua. thanks h&m. thanks.

baby, why don't we go?

key largo is a sweet change from the trendster, overidulgent streets of south beach. after an excellent birthday on the beach party headquarters of the south, the relaxed feel of the keys were welcome. obviously, i couldn't stay much longer than a night, as the only signs of civilaztion were the road-side beach shanty motels and an occasional cvs pharmacy. i didn't even find a really great place for a meal.

but something about the local sports bar--with only a handful of 22 year-old kids--felt more substantial than the glitz of the city just an hour north. maybe it was the fact that these kids weren't hiding anything from one another and were content just listening to jack and diane from the juke box. i'm sure key largo has its share of ridiculous tourists in busy season. and i'm sure marie, the cigarette-wearing doll behind the counter at the pelican motel, will always do her best to suggest the restarant down the beach becasue she gets a kickback. but the snorkeling was great, the people were kind, and the traffic was a little less intense. however, next time i think i'll try something a little more "island" and a little less "look! highway 1 has a gas station."

i HEART sobe

american spirit + euro trash + latin soul = south beach. interesting: an american city with a bit of european flare. despite the retro all-american feel of ocean avenue in all its art deco glory, the pedestrian lincoln avenue has a distinct las ramblas feel with its plethora of open air cafe seating. lining the street are euro-trash clothing stores, the staple starbucks, cuban eateries, overpriced boutiques, and the uber-americana ghirardelli chocolate store. it's even a guess as to whether the chick behind the counter will speak english or spanish. take it or leave it, but i'll take it.

i HEART the beach for the day, a meal down española way, and a martini in a breezy delano cabana. and then i will sit and soak in the warmth. becasue soon i will be in milwakee.

welcome to the sunny south

the change was immediately satisfying. the moment i stepped through the automatic sliding doors of the west palm airport (after a few chats with kindly old information lady at the podium) i smiled. then i rushed back into the airport bathroom and stripped down to my skivvies by removing jacket, scarf, sweater, jeans, and shoes - all remainders of a frozen chicago morning at the cta stop. in t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, with only my overstiffed duffel weighing me down, i hurriedly returned to the bus stop. jed's plane had been diverted by rhode island snow, and he was driving from orlando to meet me. flip on my tunes to the scissor sisters' take your mama--my south florida soundtrack. at the bus stop, gotta find change, ok--ask directions, guess the bus stop nearest the "cool" part of west palm beach, and walk down the street like perpetual tourist i am.

oh, i am so good at finding the right spot in the city. evidenced by numerous magazine write-ups lining the wall, pizza girls will give me the right amount of "patrick, you sure know what's up" and "it's a good thing you skipped buger king at the airport in favor of this diversion." with slices in hand, i was out on the street to wait for jed. with only a hint of chicago still in my mind, i breathe in all of florida's 80 degree humid glory and take a bite.

i HEART fanmail

check out tyler's comment under i-HEART's airport fun! post. next week, departing west palm beach airport, that'll be me. sweet idea tyler! i'll be sure to post pics.

it was the worst of times, it was the best of times

oh you windy city. filling me with excitement and sadness, with merry resilience and melancholy bitterness. the whipping cold is a biting whisper of malice, but one that brings with it a gasp of adventure. you have been the best and the worst, chicago. oh yes, yes you have.

the best: staying at a boy's a house. someone new, who makes your heart beat faster.
the worst: a boy stays home from work, jerk! talk to me while you're home!

the worst: realizing it's time to check out of a boy's house a day early.
the best: being welcomed into another home-one that is way hotter than the nicest hotel.

the worst: sadness, loneliness, restless night, in the windy city.
the best: a new friend at the shop on the corner. a conversation on the phone. a cup of coffee.

the worst: two dollar burger night at the ivy. lonely, nobody around.
the best: remember the sweet house? dinner there by a renowned chicago chef.

the best: ginger-infused vodka. jalapeno-infused vodka.
the worst: a smoky club that stays with you until you next do laundry.

the best: royal treatment. being loved.
the worst: leaving tomorrow.

airport fun!

i'm waiting in the security line, ready to move ahead. i need to take off my shoes, jacket and belt. crap, why did i wear two jackets and shoes that tie? the old couple over there - they can hardly walk, and yet they are taking off half their clothing to go through the detector. um...did you forget about your bling, lady?

"excuse me, she has a flight in half an hour. can she get through!?" some lady says for her friend. well how do you think i feel? of course, i did sort of merge into the first class line already, but nobody needs to know. and keep an eye on that guy next to you. i'm first, buddy. oh no...you are not going to take the bin before me. you didn't.

change in pocket, watch on, wallet in, ipod playing, shoes tied, jacket zipped, got my laptop back, one bag in hand.
"sir, i need to look through your bag. apparently you have a scalpel..." grr, my x-acto.
"yeah, i forgot my x-acto is in the bag."
"sir, you can't take this-"
"i know, sorry, you can take it."
"sir, you're welcome to take this back out-"
"i don't need it. take it."
"sir, you-"
"hey, it's yours. i don't want it. i don't know--keep it, throw it away. uh..bye!" hurry, take my bag. go.

gate C2. good, it will be just off the escalator. grgh, C2 is all the way down the terminal. what happened to the conveyer belts in the hallway? I have to walk the length of the entire terminal. why, because i decided to carry on my luggage? stupid...stupid. finally, nearing the gate. C2...between C1 and C3, right? ok, so wha--? this is ridiculous.

me and airports? we're over. next time, i'm sticking to my vespa.

goodbye atlanta

on the advent of my atlanta departure, i feel that i must temper my exuberant overreaching recommendation of all things hotlanta with a few notes of the awful signs of SHOULDN'T BE DONE that so often are present here. after all, atlanta certainly is not the dream destination of a lifetime; and although it shares in some of the glory of the venerable south, it also shows signs of some of the south's seedier side.

ok, maybe this has something to do with the fact that yesterday was rainy and cold, and i was thinking about how i would much rather be freezing in aspen than freezing in atlanta. maybe its because i didnt sleep two nights ago, and maybe its because i cannot always HEART everything about my surroundings. like when i'm sitting at a light next to a ginormous vehicle called a hummer wondering, "where do you plan to go? i know you may support our president in his war efforts, but if you aren't willing to scratch your armored vehicle in combat yourself, i'm not sure that i see the point." and i will be pointed: i have never seen more of these monsters than in the south. apparently, these people have places to go in their rugged outfitters that i never knew existed. apparently.

i have to admit that my one other complaint this morning really has nothing to do with atlanta. this saddens me any time i encounter it: to know that peole with such good intentions could go so terribly wrong. of course scooters are the best means of transportation in this modern age. but please, drive a vespa.

i'm sure that i could find a few things that are truly atlanta SBD, but i wont waste me time. just looking at that hummer takes it outta me.

atlanta: thanks for the love. you're doing well, but you're still growing. keep your chin up, kid. chi-town, here i come.

HEART the bosom band

just don't ask me what the name means. maybe it has something to do with the breastlets that the girls wear.

merely weeks before i left the campus of pensacola christian college (i promise, that is the last time that i write those words), the hottest photo shoot in the history of the school was staged on the college's own unchaperoned sidewalks. with little more than pouty lips and a splash of perfume/cologne, these darlings took to the sidewalks for their modeling debut, and here is the result. i implore you: HEART the bosom band. because they certainly HEART you.

i HEART the beehive

no city is complete without its fashionable trendster boutique of household accessories, kitsch greeting cards, and superfluous finds. however, rarely have i visited such an inspiring concept store like the beehive co-op in the heart of atlanta. almost every piece in the store is designed locally, then displayed in a little niche of this veritable co-op. although the pieces (now don't lose me here) consist of women's and children's clothing, handbags, jewelry, ceramics, cards and wrapping, and on and on-- they are not just the season's most fashionable well-made handicrafts. oh no. unlike other places of its kind, the excellent design is evident; and the care of the staff and artists doesn't go unnoticed. well-designed and one-of-a-kind pieces are the HEART and soul of this happy little homemaker's hotspot. well--it's pretty cool if you're not a homemaker, too.

i HEART a good bad doctor

and this is one of my favorite li'l ol' sketches that i ever did see. here, you will meet the doctor, his good friend beverly, and a host of other lovable characters. what are you waiting for? HEART this today!

starring: will ferrell
2001
PG - 4 stars
6.5 min.

late nite at the earl

after a short session of drunk/srunkblogging last night, we all decided to get our groove on to a little swing music on mark's very own private dance floor. a little charleston and jitterbug as well as marks own rendition of "look at me i can kick my heels up and party" dance. surprisingly well done for the amount of practice he had. much later, after the night's merriment, mark and i went on to a show at the earl - which is HEARTed by all of atlanta's indie/scene kids. methane studios has done its part to establish the scene in atl with their top-notch poster design. unfortunately, the show sold out - a surprise for relatively little-known american analog set. the show must have sold out becasue the earl is such a small venue. i mean, who has ever really heard of these guys? well, i have, and i HEART them. ok, well, i like 'em well enough. after trying the back door (at least twice, if not more), asking around for extra tickets, and few cigs (mark, not me) we decided to head home. promptly, i went to bed. surprising for a friday night--but ok, because it was the first night this week i hadn't spent the night blogging away...

i HEART the mod squad

a few nights ago, as mark, jessie, and i were walking into one of atlanta's finest establishments, green's liquor store, some guy tried stopping us to talk. "wait..the mod squad, hey! mod squad, you guys-wait, you..." but we didn't let him finish. i thought he was a bum asking for money. then i quickly changed my mind thinking he was a drunk just wanting some booze. a split second later i decided he was some nice guy that thought we were cool. it didn't matter. because we were too cool, and by that time we were already inside, thinking of nothing but ourselves...

drunkblogging

has anyone delved into the world of srunkblogging? ell, i haven't done any investigation into the mattter, but it must have ben done. i am sure i wiill love it. im not exactly drunk, but i had the seetwater christmas ale at the vortex - atlanta's finest bureger - following that a chimay, and a tidy bowl shot. you can only know what that is if you attend a meal at the vortex wwith shot/shooter to follow. and now i am at marks with a chocolate mint maritni firmly in hand. soon to follow, american analog system at the earl. alll reperts due in the morning...

i HEART a cup of joe - atlanta

after yesterday's mad pccboard frenzy to post anything and everything relating to my ex-gay-student status at pensacola christian college, the thread has been terminated. i mean deleted. gone...poof. therefore, the link on my last blog doen't help much. to sum up the case: i'm gay. former pcc-er Lowell Porter found my profile online in which i stated I was gay. having a gay profile automatically means you are soliciting yourself for sex. banned pccboard member ryan debarr decided i had crossed "the" line and reported the profile to the school's administration. pcc kicked me out. but every student at pcc knew i was gay anyway, apparently. even though i'm gay, some people say they still have fun hanging out with me.

that sums it up, so you didn't really miss anything if you missed yesterday's frenzy of postings.

after hearing about the events of yesterday, i decided to move on with my life and go get a cappucino. so here i am at java vino. at least atlanta has decent coffee joints. i HEART that. the wasteland oftern referred to as pensacola offers the obligatory starbucks or even the somewhat off-beat bad ass coffee, but even that isN'T very interesting. yet another reason to HEARTlanta. and just to satisfy mark, who is constantly blogging over my shoulder to blog me about my last blog, here's a photoblog just for him.


btw, thank you for all comments relating to the pccboard. as much as i love having people talk about me, i dont always love people giving judgment calls without knowing the full situation. and, yes, sometimes gays are actual people, too.