“I will never have a heart attack. I give them”

Posted by Chopper | Sports | Tuesday 13 July 2010 5:37 PM

The Yankee kingdom has an empty throne. Today, George Stienbrenner passed away at the age of 80.

Whether you loved him or you hated him, there was nobody in baseball like him. Thankfully, he was ours. He was our fearless leader. He was The Boss.

George Stienbrenner rebuilt the downtrodden Yankees into the powerhouse that they are today. Bottom line, he saved the legacy of the franchise that I’m proud to be a fan of. 11 Pennants, 7 World Series titles, and the pieces in place for many more to come. Sure, he was loud, brash, dominating, and maybe even a little bit off his rocker…..but he always got results. Even during the title drought of the 80′s, no team in baseball won more games than the Bronx Bombers.

But, he also maintained the Yankee lore. There were no alternate jerseys, or names on the backs. You weren’t growing a beard, and if George told you to get a haircut…you got a freakin haircut. The Boss wasn’t going to let any player compromise the class and tradition of the team of Ruth, Gerig, Mantle, and Dimaggio, no matter how much they produced or how much money he paid for them. The legend of the Yankees was always bigger than the sum of its parts.

Of course, George made plenty of mistakes along the way. To whitewash his screw ups would be selling his legacy short. But even in failure, nobody did it like The Boss. How many owners would publicly call a pitcher a fat pussy toad…in spring training!?! Zero, that’s how many. And that’s what made him special. He never settled for second best. He re-invested every dime he made off the the Yankees into making them better. His tactics may have seemed ruthless at times, but not when you’re a Yankee fan. All he wanted to do was win, and it happened more often than not.

No one ever talked about the good that George did. It was always just a small footnote in the story of The Bronx Zoo. He gave away millions of dollars to charities on the condition that no one every mention where it came from. Hundreds of kids went to college, without knowing that Mr.Stienbrenner paid the bill. He took down on their luck players like Doc and Straw, and gave them chance after chance to turn their lives around. He even hired his own personal assistant after catching him putting graffiti on one of the stadium subway cars. He made the kid remove the graffiti, then gave him a job. That’s the Big Stien no one ever mentioned. He demanded results on the field, but the man had a heart of gold off of it. He was the best owner a baseball fan could ever have.

The last time I saw him was my last visit to old Yankee Stadium: the 2008 All-Star Game. It was an emotional day to begin with, and then came The Boss. Sure, he rode around the field in a golf cart and was obviously in fading health…but the electricity of having the King back in his castle for one more night is something I will never forget for the rest of my life. Dammed if I didn’t even get a little teary eyed. The Boss was like every Yankee fan’s crazy grandpa, and every October we got awesome Christmas presents. Nothing makes me happier to know that he went out a champion, just like he deserved.

9 days ago, we spent the 4th of July and George Stienbrenner’s birthday in the house that he built. A palace fit for none other than the greatest team in history of sports. It’s tough for me to accept that in those 9 days since, Yankee fans first lost the voice of the Yankees, and then their heart and soul. I suppose Big Stien just needed to wait for Bob Sheppard to get to heaven to announce his grand arrival.

My friends and I have never known a baseball world without George Stienbrenner. All I can hope for is that two little Stienbrenners can add up to be even half of what he meant to us over the years.

A hard rain fell over the city of New York today. My only guess is that George immediately fired Mother Nature.

Rest In Peace Boss. You’ll be sorely missed.

“Winning is the most important thing in my life, after breathing. Breathing first, winning next.” – George M Stienbrenner III

Popularity: 18% [?]

Randoms

Posted by Chopper | News | Saturday 10 July 2010 4:41 PM

I am so fucking tired of Lady GaGa. Either get that man a beer or have her put some clothes on, because it’s killing me. Grace Jones needs to go all Tonya Harding on her ass.

So, the Celtics lost Game 7. Badly. Chokelike even. Blowing a 13 point lead? Come on guys. Sure, you can blame age, or injuries, or even the fact Kobe Bryant raped all the players wives during halftime. Me? I’m putting the blame squarely on Jay, who went to see Phish instead of watching Game 7 of the NBA Finals.

“Hi, I’m Lebron James. Some called me the next Micheal Jordan. Turns out, I’m the next Scottie Pippen..but not nearly as angry and scary looking.”

The year of the pitcher? More like the year of drug free baseball players. Don’t fuckin kid yourselves, there are a lot of mid to late 90′s starting pitchers sitting at home that are pretty pissed off right now. Defense? Stolen Bases? When the hell did these become important again? For as much as I’m happy to see baseball come back to the place where i loved it, it’s just odd to watch the transition.

On a side note: I have a tendency to use baseball terms a lot in my day to day life. I think I have issues. Well, other than the obvious.

Happiness? The definition of happiness is knowing I won’t have to watch soccer for four wonderful years. The World Cup is a crappier version of the Olympics without all the bearded Russian women. No, it’s not because I don’t understand it, it’s because it sucks.

Mel Gibson. It was nice knowing you. You had me at calling a female cop sugartits, but you lost me when you turned that into being a crazy racist asshole.

Yeah, so I wrote a blog about the oil spill like 3 months ago. Great job everyone. Now it just spews less oil. It’s things like this that make me think it might come in handy to know mandarin chinese someday.

Popularity: 8% [?]

Back in the saddle

Posted by Chopper | News | Friday 2 July 2010 4:38 PM

Well, today marks 5 weeks since I got back in the good ol USA. I must say, it’s nice to be home. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time…but there’s no whiffle ball games and beer pong in southeast Asia. Yup, back to regular life. No more jaunting off to islands, no more laying by the pool, no more feasting on kangaroo meat. Mmmmm kangaroo meat.

Yeah, so Australia kicked ass. I’ve always wanted to go, and it was the perfect opportunity with me only being 6 hours away. Ny buddy Neil heard of my plan, and sure enough…decided it was time to burn some vacation days. I must say, we kicked the crap out of Australia. I think we slept 5 hours a night, and drank at least 12 beers a day the entire time we were there. It was almost perfect. Except…..it’s ridiculously expensive. Well, at least Sydney is. Australia somehow managed to skip this whole global economic crisis. I don’t know, maybe they are all living off residuals from The Crocodile Hunter or something. Luckily, I had some cash saved up from that two months of not paying for anything…and I blew it like Monopoly money.

Speaking of Monopoly money: How in gods name can you tip a stripper with dollar coins? I mean, I’m not giving her $5..and all the other ways I can think of can’t be legal in most civilized nations. Well, except for Canada.

I quickly familiarized myself with the local beer. Fosters? Yeah, Fosters is a myth. A sham. A shamocracy even. I couldn’t find Fosters in one single bar in a 200 mile radius of Metro Sydney. The closest we came was a bartender that thought they may have a can in the basement. That’s it. Nothing. Australia pulled the David Hasselhoff of beer on us, just like we did with Germany. We told them “Oh, here…there’s nothing more American than David Hasselhoff, then you come to America and find out he’s just a washed up drunk guy that no one gives a crap about. Well, the Aussies turned it around on us. What’s even worse, is that they did it with beer. Not cool guys, not cool at all. Some things are just friggin sacred.

But just when you want to get mad at them, they break out the Koalas. Then everyone goes awwww, and you forget that they spent years hoodwinking you to buy 5 gallon cans of shitty beer. Oh Koalas. What cute little things they are. What cute, smelly, mean little things they are. Koalas are like the junkies of the animal kingdom. They wake up, paw around for a few hours, growl at a couple of people, get their fix, sleep for 20 hours, then do it all over again. I can see that shit at the tavern, I didn’t need to fly half way across the world for that nonsense.

The Australians have awful taste in music. I mean, terrible. I saw a kareoke night where people had to sing every bad 80′s and 90′s love gone wrong song that was ever written. But, they sure do love their AC/DC.

But I have to tell ya, if it wasn’t like umpteen hours away…I could totally live in Australia. Instead: I’m back in Boston, back around those I love, and back to doing what I do best: Making dick jokes, acting like a jerk, and offending people.

Let’s get movin.

Popularity: 11% [?]

Hey Louisiana, F*ck you!

Posted by Chopper | News,Rants | Sunday 2 May 2010 11:20 PM

These people have to be either the unluckiest people on the face of the earth, or someone just has it out for them.

So. Here we are. The largest oil spill in US history, headed right for the Gulf coast. Meh, No big deal. They only have an ocean full of precious wildlife, and states that depend on it for economic survival.

Now, I’m not going to go on some big anti oil rant. There’s no point. No matter how many hybrid cars there are, or energy efficient windows, or natural gas solutions: We are slaves to the stuff. That’s not going to change. Not to mention, accidents happen. You can’t be perfect 100% of the time when it comes to anything really. That’s just the risk you take. You can’t drive to work everyday and not accept that fact. That’s just the reality of the situation.

What I am pissed about however, is the response to this nightmare. Or quite frankly, the utter lack thereof.

I like my President. Sure, I disagree with him on a few things. But overall, I support the guy. Well, not this time. 12 days. You let this shit fester for 12 fucking days before you got off your ass and headed to Louisiana. I mean, WTF?? Seriously? After everything that happened with Hurricane Katrina? The President who is supposed to be for the common man was too busy cracking jokes at a state dinner with that suckbag Jay Leno to get his ass in gear? Where was the Navy and the Coast Guard with oil booms? Why was BP left alone to deal with this for over a week when we have the unlimited resources of the United States of America? Of course they said they could handle it. What else were they going to say? You’re telling me a government regulated company is going to come out publicly and say “Well, quite frankly Mr President…we’re pretty much fucked”? Of course not. We never should have even given them the option. We should have taken the reins from day one. “Oh, you can handle it huh? Well, it sure looks that way from the 500,000 gallons of oil in the water. Now, get the fuck out of the way”

Instead, the entire federal government sat around with their thumbs up their asses while an ecological disaster of epic proportions just got bigger and bigger. There are more private fishing vessels dragging booms right now to try and save their livelihood then there are government ones. It’s literally so ridiculous that I can’t even believe it’s actually happening.

The President telling me that “BP is gonna pay for this” does nothing to help the wildlife that will eventually be sucking down super unleaded up and down the eastern seaboard, or prevent the utter thrashing of the marshes and beaches that will take years if not decades to undo. Neither does suspending new oil permits less than 2 months after you just opened up more land to offshore drilling. PR moves aren’t going to help fix this.

What will help is declaring a national state of emergency, and pulling every boat, raft, and spare cotton ball into the Gulf as fast as you fucking can. Ya know, like you should have done a week ago. If money isn’t an object when it comes to any of your pet projects, then it shouldn’t be an object when it comes to making sure our citizens can fish and swim in our own waters without coming out looking like a cast member from the Jersey Shore.

Get on the fucking ball my friend, because “Barry, yer doin a heck of a job”

Popularity: 47% [?]

My love…and hate for all that is Filipino

Posted by Chopper | News,Random | Sunday 2 May 2010 10:33 PM

Love: The attention. Man, they treat me like freakin gold here.
Hate: The attention. Sometimes I just want to open my own fucking door.

Love: The work ethic. These people take serious pride in their work. Even if you are a shit shoveler. Nobody half asses anything.
Hate: Filipino time. It’s like Chop time, but 10 times more frustrating. At least I get to work and meetings on time.

Love: My hotel staff. They all knew my name by the end of the first week. The cleaning staff alone deserves a medal.
Hate: Korean tourists. Rudest motherfuckers I’ve ever seen. They treat the staff like second class citizens. I need to learn how to call someone a douchebag in Korean.

Love: The weather. 85+ and sunny every day. It never rains this time of year.
Hate: The unforgiving smell of raw sewage after there actually is a big rainstorm.

Love: Buckets of San Miguel beer.
Hate: Empty buckets of San Miguel beer.

Love: All the big visiting music acts stay on my floor.
Hate: Having to hang out with the guys from Tears for Fears.

Love: Large amounts of cheap disposable goods. I bought new Vans for 11 bucks.
Hate: Filipino’s think all Americans are rich.

Love: That I have a new friend that’s an Ex-CIA agent.
Hate: That he was able pull my arrest record less than a half hour after I called his bluff. Well played Terry….If that IS your real name.

Love: The unwavering desire for my minons to follow my exact orders.
Hate: The inability for my minons to think on their own. Ever. They are so fucked when I leave.

Love: The Bars are open all night long.
Hate: Sunlight.

Love: Readily available supplies of Cuban Cigars.
Hate: How many I’m going to have to throw out when I get red-flagged at customs.

Love: Making up fake names at Starbucks. You’d laugh too if you ever heard an Asian say “Grande Cafe Mocha for Smegma”
Hate: When they remember your name as Smegma.

Love: Filipino bitches love me.
Hate: The fact that Filipino bitches REALLY love me. 

Love: $1 packs of cigarettes that taste like they used to before America made them double wrap them in paper so idiots didn’t burn their houses down.
Hate: It took me only a week of living here to totally fall off the wagon and really start smoking again.

Love: Diving in the oceans off the coast. Absolutely beautiful coral reefs.
Hate: Having to be careful since crazy Filipino’s still actively practice blast fishing. You would think the guy with one arm would try a safer method.

Love: The imaginary character that pays for everything that I named Mr. Hancock.
Hate: A guaranteed expense audit when I get home.

Love: Filipino cover bands. Never in America do you see bands big enough and egoless enough to have two singers and the talent to cover modern pop songs.
Hate: The idea that they think they can cover “Sweet Child Of Mine” and not make it sound awful.

Love: The Japanese TV channel. It’s just as funny as SNL made it out to be. Perhaps even funnier.
Hate: They edit the movies on TV for content here. I haven’t seen Cinemax or HBO titty in 7 weeks.

Love: Hot British business travellers that can drink like maniacs.
Hate: Yeah, there’s nothing to hate there. Nothing whatsoever.

Love: Redefining the American stereotype.
Hate: That the existing stereotype is set so fucking low that I impress people.

Love: That I leave for Australia in 7 days
Hate: The fact that I have to go back home and become a regular schlub again.

Popularity: 59% [?]

It’s all uphill from here

Posted by Chopper | News | Tuesday 13 April 2010 8:08 PM

Well, another year in the books. 31. Weird. They just keep sneaking up on me. All and all, I had a pretty good birthday. The one thing about this birthday that is certain, it definitely wasn’t like past years. There were no grand celebrations, no scorpion bowls, no car bombs, no crypt keepers. But you know what? I’m really OK with that. I knew going into this deal that sacrifices were going to have to be made. Birthdays come and go, but once in a lifetime opportunities don’t just fall at your doorstep. At least not for me.

Part of what made it not such a big deal for me (other than some great friends who made sure to still make me feel pretty loved), is the firm realization that I am a lucky son of a bitch. I crammed more fun into my 20′s than most people get to do in a lifetime. But you know what? I wouldn’t relive that time in my life for a million bucks. Alright, maybe a million…or at least enough money to pay off my overbearing student loans and get a lap dance or two. Sure, we had some awesome times that I’ll treasure for the rest of my life…and damm if there weren’t a few mistakes I’d like to undo along the way. But my 20′s were wrought with a complete uncertainty that I’d never want to go through again. Who I was, where I was going, what my path in life was going to be. It was nothing short of controlled chaos, and I wasn’t always alone in the aftermath it created.

Being a teenager was easy, there was no expectations. Hell, staying out jail was meeting expectations for the most part. But my 20′s? Well damm. All the fun, the adventures, and the partying did nothing more than help distract me from the reality of knowing that quite frankly, I didn’t know where the hell I was going. I just knew I had to get there fast. The pressure of my reputation, my demons, and my own unreasonable expectations put me in a place where I could never really relax. It was always about what’s next. The next goal, the next conquest, the next move. It was never about where I was, it was always about where I was going. I may have picked up a few enemies over the years (and I use the term “a few” loosely), but none were bigger than the guy I saw in the mirror every morning. Or late afternoon. Whatever.

I never really ever planned life after 30. It seemed so far away, and I seemed so far away from being old enough to relate to it. I always assumed it would just take care of itself. Boy, was I wrong on that one. It’s funny. I spent most of 20′s running forward at 100 miles an hour, but never really knowing the actual destination. Now it seems like I know exactly where I’m headed, but the ride moves just a little bit slower. At the end of the day: I know what I want, and I know what I don’t want. That alone made all the madness worthwhile I guess.

Sure, there are goals I sometimes wish I got to earlier than I did. Everyone does. Marriage, kids, houses, promotions….hindsight is always 20/20. But you know what? I’m still going to get where I’m supposed to be one way or another. I think for the first time in my life, I’m completely content with the now. Not relishing the past, not fixated on the future. I’m just loving every bit of now. My 30′s is where I learned to stop sweating the small stuff, and for an anal retentive bastard like me…that’s the closest thing to a miracle I’ll ever find. Good or bad, all you can do is take the things you’ve learned along the way, and use them to make today better than it was yesterday.

And today will be better than yesterday……..no doubt about it. This ride is just getting started.

Popularity: 70% [?]

Riding the Happy Horse

Posted by Chopper | News | Sunday 11 April 2010 4:49 AM

Well, it’s been a month. What a freakin month. I’ve really tried to sit down and write. It’s just….well, you wouldn’t want to sit around and write if you were me either.

I gotta say, things in Manila are going pretty damm awesome. Work is going as well as it could be, I’ve gotten used to being up all night, and the weather has been amazing. It’s weird, the weather here never changes. I was sitting on the patio upstairs last night with one of the other long term guests and a nice breeze came through. No lie, it was the first change in the weather in like 2 weeks. It’s always between 80 and 90, and a little humid. Lets just say that I’m no longer my usual winter pasty self.

I’ve had a chance to do some exploring over the last few weeks, survived my first earthquake, and managed to get myself familiar with the culture here. It’s interesting, that’s for sure. Lots of random t-shirts with American phrases, occasionally not worded quite correctly.  I’m definitly bringing a couple of the funnier ones back with me. The food here is decent, though my adventurous nature has twice stricken me with what I casually call “Filipino Stomach AIDS”. Uggh. Not fun. Not fun at all. Crippling actually. This place has some odd smells sometimes. You occasionally get these wafts that smell like either bad fruit or good cheese. That’s not even getting into the street vendors. Rumor has it that the ratsicles in Intramuros aren’t just a bad Chinese food joke.

Living in Manila is not nearly as scary as people make it out to be. But, that’s after you get used to it. My hotel’s security guards have an affinity for pump handle shotguns. I have a new friend to play catch with named Buddy. He’s the black lab they use to sniff the cars for bombs. The trunk of my car gets checked every time I enter the hotel, and every time I enter work. On the surface, it’s disconcerting. But, most of it is a dog and pony show. It’s more about appearance than anything else. Nothing really weird has happened to me, nor do I see any crazy shit. I will say though, I also rarely see police officers. From what I’ve been told, about $40 can get me out of any situation when it comes to the police….so most of the businesses and hotels all have private security. You even get searched entering the mall.

Oh, the Mall. I can’t even explain the Mall. You just have to see it for yourself. Filipino’s LOVE the fucking mall. It’s shocking, considering you would think they don’t have the money to shop at the mall. That’s what credit cards are for I guess. It’s really just like America! The mall’s are like a world all their own. They are like palaces. the one next to me has 6 floors and 750 stores. It’s crazy. I’ve gotten lost in it twice. I spend a lot of time in Greenbelt, which is packed full of bars, nightlife, and old creepy white dudes looking for wives. Oh yeah. Can’t forget that part. There are two kinds of Americans here in the Philippines. Those that are here for work, and those that are here for sex. The dudes I’ve met and the things I’ve seen would blow your mind. I mean, I’ve met some real scumbags. I met a trucker from LA that comes out here 3 months a year just to buy whores. When I asked him if he felt bad about it, he responded “I pay these girls a year’s salary to suck my dick…so no.” Umm, yeah…I think I’m going to move on to the next bar. No, I don’t want to hang out sometime. Dirtbag.

But, the market is there I guess. When I first got to Manila, I befriended one of the staff members here. His name is Shrii, and he’s a really cool dude. He’s one of those guys that should be doing a lot more than working the pool at a hotel. He said to me probably the second week I was here “Your build, your skin, that handsome face…Filipino girls will dig you like chocolate bar”. Of course, I laughed it off at the time. Yeah, it’s not so funny anymore. I’d be lying to you if I didn’t say I get approached by Filipino women on daily basis. At the end of the day, a guy like me is a golden ticket. I see creepy looking dudes, some in their 60′s and 70′s with hot ass women. God knows I can pull better than those mopes. Call me old fashioned, but it’s all just kinda messed up to me. Of course, if I was one of those dudes…I’d probably understand a bit better. You gotta figure, most of those types couldn’t get laid on their own to begin with..so there’s not much for them to compare it to. I’m sure it seems normal in their heads. I’ve been trailed at the mall, approached at bars, and my personal favorite: The girls at starbucks write their phone numbers on my receipts. Oh yeah, the corporate expense guys are going LOVE my explanation for those. If I had an Asian fetish, this would probably be a really fun place to live. Unfortunately, I’m stuck being attracted to obnoxious American women. Meh, such is life.

So, there’s about 5-6 parent company folks that are living here in the hotel, as well as a few more westerners that work for other companies. The brits are my favorite. They are the only ones that can keep up with my drinking problem. We go out on the town together, hang out by the pool, get shithoused…it’s pretty cool. We’re all kinda stuck in the same situation, so it’s nice to have company. The work people are funny. First being…well, they’re Canadian. That alone can be amusing. They try to give the American kid shit sometimes, but I mean…it’s Canada. That’s like getting made fun of by the kid that eats paste. All I have to do is bring up how Curling isn’t a real sport and that shit is over. But that’s not the real reason they bust my stones. The real reason is when the US division makes 60% of your revenue and they are supposed to be your subsidiary, I can understand being a little jealous. Not to mention they get all their IT support from that shitty ass company named IBM. That alone could make someone pretty bitter.

Speaking of Canada, one of the parent company folks brought her husband John with her. He’s from Nova Scotia, so he might as well be American anyway. I mean, he’s a Bruins fan for christ sake. He’s pretty much the Mayor around here. He’s been living here for three months…and just hanging out every day. He’s some sort of nature museum director for the Canadian government, and just decided to not work and stay here for the winter with her. Must be nice. But, I’m going somewhere with this. His government issued PC got infected with a bunch of viruses, and they weren’t doing shit to help him back home. Of course, the PC is totally locked down since it contains sensitive government data, blah, blah, blah. He’s bitching about it one day, so I tell him to bring it down to the pool and I’d take a look at it. 20 minutes. I cracked Canadian government security in 20 minutes and removed the virus. There’s a reason you’re our little brother Canada, now go get me a Molson. What? Don’t call me your buddy, I’m not your buddy. (Needless to say, John was quite grateful, and I didn’t pay for a drop of booze for a good week or so.)

Oh booze. My trusted friend. Even more so a friend now that I’ve been limited to it being my only major vice. Yeah, that other stuff is not really quite as accepted as it is in lets say, Massachusetts. It’s kinda killing me. But, I’m surviving. Gin helps. A lot. The booze here is pretty much the same as back home…except for a few things. I can’t find a bottle of Captain Morgan to save my fucking life. It’s like there’s some sort of Filipino trade embargo against it or something. It’s really starting to get me a little frustrated. I have gotten well acquainted with the local beer however. San Miguel is pretty much Miller Lite (which I ALSO can’t find over here to save my life), but with a local flair. It’s cheap and it does the trick. What I have gotten to like is a beer called “Red Horse”. Red horse is like Budweiser, but a little stronger. But there’s a funny thing with Red Horse. Randomly, they insert a bottle where the Horse is smiling. They call this “The Happy Horse”. Why is the horse so happy? Well, turns out the beer in a happy horse has an extra 2% alcohol content. Trust me, the horse is not the only happy one when you get dealt of those gems at last call.

Do you know what I found quite odd? No one here has ever heard of a beer coozie. It’s a thousand fucking degrees all year, you would think someone would have introduced a prime way to keep beer cold. Needless to say, I’m building a business model. A few San Miguel beer coozies could make me millions.

All  and all, I really can’t complain. Sure, things are a little wild around here sometimes, but it’s almost like the country as a whole is forced to police itself. I mean, the Filipino government stance on drinking and driving is “Please drink and drive in moderation”. No, that’s not a joke. There’s really no such thing as a DWI here. Yet, I never see any drunk guys smashing into each other. Survival of the fittest I suppose. I bet the Catholic guilt helps. Well, that and it’s hard to get a lawnmower engine up to speeds that can kill someone.

Wait a minute: Cheap booze, great weather, loose women, no DWI laws……why exactly am I coming home again?

Popularity: 78% [?]

Well….I’m here!

Posted by Chopper | News | Saturday 20 March 2010 8:30 PM

This week has just been a blur. Sure, I think the gin and tonic’s by the pool helped that along…but I’ve kept myself pretty busy too.

I flew out of Boston just in time to miss the most ridiculous rainstorm in about 50 years (at least so I’m told) and hopped my 23 hour flight to Manila.

First and foremost: International business class has ruined flying for me forever. Screw going back to coach, I can’t even go back to US first class. My seat turned into a bed. Yes, a frickin bed. Day one and I’m already getting used to this.

The hotel is just as awesome as it looks in pictures. The staff waits on me hand and foot, it’s posh beyond belief, and I can’t get enough of the pool…or the pool bar for that matter. I’m getting quite spoiled here. Going back to regular life is going to suck. The one thing that’s nice is that there are a bunch of Americans staying here like I am, even a few Jher’s from Boston. Since we all work nights, we have our own little crew to hang out and do stuff with. It makes the transition much easier.

Manila is nothing like I expected. I was stunned by how much western culture has permeated this place. There’s nothing I can’t get here that I can get at home. TV shows, music, stores…Manila even runs on dunkin. They have more Dunkin Donuts in Metro Manila they have in Phoenix for christ sake. It’s kinda crazy. One more thing I didn’t know? Filipino’s love basketball. I mean LOVE it. Every time I tell someone where I’m from, the next words out of their mouths is about the Celtics. It makes for a good ice breaker to say the least. Not to mention, a stocky white kid with a bad back can really lay some game down on 5ft Asian dudes.

The best way I could describe Manila would be if NYC and LA had an illegitimate child, and abandoned it in Florida. It’s built up like NYC, spread out like LA, and humid as hell. But you get used to it quickly. The air is smoggier than LA, but not by a dramatic margin. Pollution controls on cars are pretty much non-existent, and holy shit…are there a lot of cars. I’ve never seen traffic like I do here. Boston, NYC, and LA have nothing on these guys. I leave for work during off peak hours, and it still takes me 45 minutes to go about 4 miles. I didn’t fathom how densely populated it is. 90 million people live in the Philippines. That’s about 1/4 of the US population packed into a combined land mass that’s a little bigger than Arizona. There are people everywhere.

Driving in Manila is like Death Race 2000. Thank god I have a driver. I’ve seen a grand total of 5 traffic lights since I’ve gotten here. It’s pretty much every man for himself. Not to mention, some of the things they call cars over here are questionable at best. That’s not even getting into the crazy bastards on motorcycles and bicycle rickshaws.

While it’s a lot more modern than I expected, it’s still a 3rd world country. you’ll go by three or four pristinely developed blocks and then pass slums for three or four more. In Manila, the rich are rich…and the poor are very poor. I won’t lie, some of the stuff I see would break your heart. It’s definitely a tale of two countries (pay attention America). The best part of this trip for me so far is that it’s re-aligned my perspective on things. For all the shit we complain about, we really have no idea what it’s like to struggle. No idea whatsoever. There are guys that work at my hotel that get paid less in a week than I spend on my lunch. Of course, I tip the shit out of them because I feel guilty. I have to, it’s just one of those things.

My crew at work is awesome. We did a really good job during the recruiting process, and these kids are bright as hell. It’s making my job a lot easier than it should be. I got them to open up right away, which is what everyone tells me is the hardest part. In fact, I think i’ve already found one of my team leads. He’s smart, cocky, and even a little bit of a wiseass. Oh, big shocker…his name is Dave. Yeah, I’m managing the Filipino version of me. Talk about fucking karma. To quote my boss “Jesus Christ, one Dave was bad enough as it is”.  Ain’t that the truth.

I got a lot of shit from people for building this new team out here. The usual outsourcing speech came at me more than once. But you know what? These kids need these 10 jobs a lot more than we do. Plain and simple. We sit around and bitch and piss and moan about stupid bullshit every day, while these people are just trying to get out of the slums and make something of themselves. If Americans were half as motivated and determined as the guys that work for me, we’d be a hell of a lot better as a country, that’s for damm sure. There’s no sense of entitlement here. Nobody thinks they “deserve” to be given anything. They work their asses off for it.

I go home in the morning (5 in the morning in fact) knowing that what I’m doing here is making a difference in the lives of 10 kids who have the potential to be something special. It’s rare you get that opportunity in life. I guess that even warms the cockle of an asshole like me.

Now where is that waiter with my drink…..

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So, are you nervous?

Posted by Chopper | Random | Saturday 6 March 2010 9:20 AM

I’ve probably been asked that question no less than 50 times since this whole trip to the Philippines started coming together. Sure, there are great jokes to be made about Filipino prisons, being kidnapped, and the illicit sex trade…but I’ve never been even a little bit nervous about the whole thing. That is of course, until about 8:47 Thursday morning.

It’s weird. I was talking about all the crap I need to get done in the next 8 or so days, (Ya know, because who’s counting or anything) when I got the obligatory question: “so…are you nervous about going over there?”

And for the first time…..I actually was.

The thing is, it’s not for all the reasons I really should be nervous. Sure, it’s a foreign county that’s rife with natural disasters, political instability, petty theft, prostitution, robbery, and rampant poverty. But hey, I’m from Northfield. They kill hookers for sport there. I’m not worried about some crazy little Asian dudes trying to rob me with a broken coke bottle. What’s really getting to me, is what this all means in the grand scheme of things.

This is it. This is one of those infamous “dare to be great” moments that come along maybe once or twice in a lifetime….if you’re lucky. This whole thing is a culmination of my entire career in IT. If I succeed? The sky is the limit. If I fail? Lets just say my climb up the corporate ladder may stall out for a little while. Anyone who wouldn’t get a little nervous about that is either too stupid or too arrogant for their own good. God knows I dance around the line on the latter.

I’m guess I’m really just trying to keep it all in perspective. I’m pretty terrible at a lot of things. Keeping my opinion to myself, relationships, the ability to keep loose change off my bedroom floor…..the list goes on and on. But, I am damm good at what I do for a living. Obviously, I wouldn’t be getting sent over there if I didn’t earn it. I know I made a lot of sacrifices to get to where I am today. Weekends, Holidays, the latter half of my 20′s, and most of my sanity. But all those sacrifices, and a little bit of luck have suddenly presented this grand opportunity at my feet. I always said that all that crap would pay off someday, and despite my own doubts….I guess it actually has.

Anyone that knows me realizes that my self-proclaimed destiny for greatness started a long time ago. I guess it’s just weird to see life finally catching up with me.

So, am I nervous? Hell no. I can’t get started fast enough. As I’ve always said….It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll.

Now lets drink some beer.

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Randoms

Posted by Chopper | Random | Sunday 21 February 2010 9:20 PM

I realized the other day that Sarah Palin might just drive me to self-inflicted violence against my own eardrums. Her entire rise to fame does nothing but confirm for me the concepts that A: All of life’s limitations can me made up for with a nice ass, and B: A little more than 35% of my country is legally brain dead.

There aren’t too many things as painful as seeing people I’ve known half my life, talking about yellow ribbons on Fox news. Unfuckingbelievable. Thank god I’m from Northfield.

Speaking of Northfield: It still shocks me how no one ever realized what was really going on down at the basketball courts. Every once in a while the cops would come around, but it was usually just to pick up Terry on a warrant or something. There is no way that kids could ever get away with that shit today.

I find it quite intriguing that if you aren’t from a middle eastern country and fly a plane into a government building, you’re not a terrorist….you’re just pissed off. Apparently, white americans can’t be terrorists. I mean, It’s not those guys ever did any crazy shit in the last 250 years or so.

I still can’t decide if the National floors direct girl is hot or not. I don’t even hear what she says during the commercials anymore, all I hear is my internal monologue debating itself. “Yeah, she looks kinda cute…but her face is huge”. I think she needs to do a commercial in bathing suit, just to get me off the fence one way or the other.

The Winter Olympics are so fucking boring with the exception of hockey and snowboarding. No one gives a shit about Ice dancing. Well, at least no one who I want to have a conversation with.

Oh Tiger Woods. You almost have to be impressed at the poontang bender that guy went on. I’m still not sure how more athletes haven’t taken a life lesson from Derek Jeter. Jeets spent the last decade giving most of hot america the herp and no one seems to give it a second thought. Why? Because he’s not married. He should teach a class for new pro athletes called “Kids, don’t be stupid”

While I’m talking about New York’s favorite son, I just have to say how nice it is to go into baseball season as a resident of titletown again. I’m always so much more relaxed during a championship offseason. I’m not even being cocky, deep down I actually think this Yankee team might be better than last years.

Finally, anything Rajon Rondo says I need to be vaccinated for, I’m fucking getting vaccinated for. Tomorrow

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