Daniel Poth

I flew into New York at 6 AM to a beautiful sunrise and an absolutely lovely city view. I saw Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty, and Central Park. If I'd been sufficiently proactive, I would have brought my camera, but alas, no pics. So I landed, exhausted, and probably a little smelly and strapped in for the long drive to my sister's place in Stamford, Connecticut. Today, we went to FDR's residence and a Vanderbilt mansion. I saw 'a' because the family had something in the order of 3 dozen of them. As for FDR, I re-realized just how much I celebrate that man as a brilliant American leader. I feel a certain commmittment to reading more on him when I get back to Denver. We meant to go see some new play in the city with David Hyde Pierce, but unfortunately, traffic sucked monkey balls sufficiently badly that we missed it. So tonight, it's local tasty pizza and light, silly movies like "So I Married An Axe Murderer" or "Hellboy" (my sister's movie selection rocks! So I'm off. Tomorrow.... I haven't the foggiest.

Okay. Short version. I broke my arm today. I'm going to see the osteopath tomorrow.

Slightly longer version, I fell off my bike and straight armed into the concrete. I thought it was just a sprain until I was watching "Airplane" on DVD and I discovered that my full range of motion on my arm had decreased to about 5%. So I went to the urgent care clinic, got some ex-rays (which required turning my arm in ways that it decidedly did not want to move), and they highly suspect a break. They told me that the osteopath has a long line of patients to see, so I should just come back tomorrow, and, sling and codeine in hand, sent me on my merry way. Now tonight was the first anniversery of my friend Robyn being a legal resident alien so there was a party, and not one to miss said party that I'd been looking forward to for weeks, I went and had a lovely time, mixing codeine with said wine for entertaining - but hardly drunken - results. (woof. That was a long sentence.) So now I'm home and in quite exceptional pain while I attempt to decide how I'm going to sleep in a manner that's both comfortable (as I can get) and keeps my arm elevated in the proper medicinal manner. I have to show up at 10 AM tomorrow for the follow-up and probably *ahem* "maneuvering, for which the Nurse Practitioner informed me that I would most definitely need the codeine. I'm in excrutiating pain, but hopefully the rest of "Airplane" will make me feel better.

In other news, child-proof bottles were not ever meant to be opened by someone with a gimpy arm. I had the cut the fucker open with a kitchen knife like a highly prescribed pinata to get at the pain-killing goodness inside. Oi!

My sister got married yesterday. My sister got engaged a month ago. My sister has five children. My sister texted me with the good news. My sister didn't tell me at any point prior to texting me the good news that she was getting married soon. My sister now has six children. My sister is driving me to drink.

So between my sister, my mom, and my dad, we've got 6 marriages now under our collective belts. My other sister's getting married next year. That will officially make more marriages then there are people in my immediate family. I think at this point we should get a coupon for a free reception hall.

Hey everybody: self-esteem-check time. Everyone who reads this (and preferably knows me), say something genuine, heartfelt, and sincere about me. Nothing fluffy. Just mean it. I know I put these up about once a year, but I promise that this time around it's part of a larger context of things that I'm trying to accomplish. If you want specifics, ask. I might tell you. That is all.

Sixteen hours, eight CDs, one MP3 player, and 1,015 miles later, I've returned home from a trip to Manhattan, KS. I am exhausted, thoughtful, worried, contemplative, a little irritated, and generally really quite pleased with life. I saw my friend AJ, who, barring the most serious and extreme instances of depression, is one of only two (formally three) people in the world who can universally make me feel like I'm a better man. She doesn't really realize that she does it and damnitall if I can figure out how, but she does. (I figure it might have something to do with all the radiation she's been putting out lately, but that's still an unverified theory.)

It was a trip of thrills, chills, spills, and wicked pissa hats, and that was just the play I went to see. There were also sliding doors, two liter glasses of Long Island Iced Tea, beera-non-grata, and under-appreciated ducks. There was also a lot of deep thinking about a lot of things that have been itching under my skin lately (and for those from Missouri, I am not talking about chiggers). Some things I suspended indefinately, some I decided on, most I left in limbo.

I apologize for the vagary of all this, but my poor brain has been atrophying these last few months, and I'm afraid this weekend was a bit of an overstimulation for the poor thing. It's operating on a Three Stooges level at the moment. I'm hoping by tomorrow it's at least up to Marx Brothers.

Anyway, I meant to write more, but I think that about covers it. Brevity is the sure sign of a deft writer... of course it's also the sign of a sluggish, 3-toed slothlike writer, but I like the word deft better, so we're going with that one. And as for the copious spelling errors, boy howdy am I too tired to check them.


In other news, the winner of the trivia contest which all of three people participated in (the rest of you suck some seriously large donkey balls) is one Jaime from St. Louis. Is said Jaime gives me her address, she will be receiving her first class, one-way ticket to prizeville. Population: her.

You and I have been friends for a lot of years. We used to frolic in the winter. I used to make you into spheres and hurl you at others. You used to keep me cool and prepare me for good times with our other friend, hot cocoa. The point is, we were good once. But now... now you're just becoming clingy. You won't let me hang out with my other friends. In fact, this latest effort to body-block my trip to Kansas is just going a little too far. I know that what we had was special, but you're just going to far. I think it's time to take a break, maybe see other forms of precipiation for a while. Rain and I have been talking a lot lately and I'm just not sure that there's room enough for both of you in my life. Maybe I'll call you again. Maybe we'll laugh and run and play as we have in the past. But snow, it's time you left me alone.

Sincerely,
Daniel

I need ideas. I need cruel, manipulative, crazy, zany, righteous, vindictive ideas. For those of you who don't already know, I work in a bank. At said bank I occasionally receive phone calls along the lines of the following: "Hello! My name is Ida from Scamtronics Unlimited, LLC, DDS. I'm calling with a question about our toner shipment to you. Would you be so kind, blind, ignorant, and stupid to check the serial and model numbers on your printer for me?" Upon reciept of said numbers to said Ida, said employee's company then receives an unhealthily large bill for printer maintenance and supplies that were never ordered and likely never delivered. It's a classic scam that I first came across when I was working in a mail room (aka: the 10th Ring of Hell). In my time I've come to view such phone calls with ever-decreasing amounts of anger and ever-increasing amounts of amusement, going so far as to accept to their request and then put them indefinately on hold. I then time them to see if I can beat my own personal best time before they cotten on and hang up. However, as time wears on, I find myself becoming ever more bored of such trivial tactics and desire more.

That's where you, dear readers, come into play. I'm holding a contest. Whoever can come up with the best, most clever, most practical, most sinister way to keep the scammers on the line and, if possible, send them away in a fit of frustration and anger will win a prize, mailed out by me to your address. Extra points will be given for ingenuity and practicality of application. The winner will be chosen by me and only me. I will be the ultimate judge of success or failure and decisions may be appealed, but will almost certainly be ignored.

The rules are as follows (and are subject to change at any time, on my whim):
1. I am the despotic lord high overmind. My will is unchallenged and unchallengable.
2. Entries must have some basis in a reality that I can achieve on my own on the fly. In other words, no high-end electronic gimmicks, no fanciful revenge scenarios that involve me tracking down their location and sending dog-doo, etc. I applaud creativity, but keep it grounded.
3. If you so desire to submit an idea that is utterly implausible and you feel your hopes dashed by Rule #2, submit it anyway. It's good for a laugh if nothing else.
4. Don't be afraid to be humorous or cruel, or humorously cruel. Remember. These people are leaches trying to take advantage of the unawares. They deserve neither kindness nor compassion.
5. Send this to your friends. I'm looking for ideas from all corners.

So the half-day today was nice. Then I had to go to my Brain Doctor, M.D., and things only went downhill from there. I was driving along, happily early for the appointment as I was asked to do, then I hit the mother of all potholes. Now mind you, being from St. Louis, I am familiar with potholes. They are like annual reminders of a winter past and a spring on its way to fruition. So understand, that when I speak of this pothole as the mother of all potholes, what I actually mean is that this pothole was capable of swallowing a man so wholly that all memory of him is actually lost from existence. Now you might believe that I could have seen such an all-consuming pothole and avoided it. You would believe wrongly. I hit this pothole and from the corner of my eye I saw a black, shiny object. Alarmed at this turn of events, I looked in my rearview mirror and rolling, like a spinning dervish of mockery, was my hubcap crossing the road to get to the other side. So, long story less long, I had to go on a fishing expidition for my own friggin' hubcap, and I was late for the appointment. Ugh.

He was much less warm and endearing than my actual BRAIN DOCTOR. But oh well. I might be doped up a few months hence. Hurray!

Also, I went indoor rock climbing yesterday. And I love.

In other news, I stabbed myself with a triscuit! Yup. A splinter from a triscuit lodged itself into my hand. I am that awesome!

This morning I woke up and found myself in an existential quandry, filled with loathing and self-doubt, and wracked with the pain and isolation of my pitiful, meaningless existence... then I started smiling. And that's made all the difference.

My friend Linda came up the weekend before last. We had ridiculous amounts of fun. We drove way friggin' west, into Breckinridge, shopped for a while, then drove FARTHER west and decided to adventure by taken roads only slightly infrequently travelled. The adventure did not end there, though. Oh no! We hiked in Estes Park over St. Patrick's Day. We hiked the road in fact not travelled at all. It was so little travelled that we blazed a trail so fresh that we kept sinking up to our waists in fresh, powdery leg-sucking snow. We were soaked and very, very pleased with ourselves. Besides that, there was much walking and sun-tanning.

My customers are crazy, as ever. I love the genuinely crazy ones, of which we have many. I love my neighborhood.

I have joined a gym. No shit. I'm tired of being a 150 lbs. weakling, when I know that I can be a 162 lbs. weakling. It hurts so good.

Also. I'm not rocking the BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN DOCTOR and it hurts my brain so good.

In final news, my grandmother died, and two of my sisters got engaged. Now I am watching "Anchorman." Good times.

Raise your hand if you remember the NES classic "Mike Tyson's Punch-Out"? To jog your memory is was basically one ever-amusing, flamboyant, amusing character after the next, and each had their particular weakness that if you were quick (and you had the right Nintendo Power cheats), you could beat them at their own game. If you missed the opening though, you were usually screwed, particularly by the later guys. Well my experience was always one of trial-and-error. I would lose a lot until the random jabbing at the A and B buttons produced a miracle victory. But then, there was the final boss, Mike Tyson. I never defeated him. I could never find an adequate offense against his furious fists, no matter how much I dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, or dodged. Eventually I would start to wonder if the mat tastes better with ketchup. That's kind of how I feel right now. What was once a decently whoop-ass case of the flu has now become a (doctor & radiologist certified) case of upper respiratory tract infection with just a dash of fluid in the lungs thrown in to taste (cause it just wouldn't be me if we kept things simple). So to all those folks in Columbia who were hoping to see me this weekend, I wanted to see you too, but I think that the half-day long drive through sub-freezing temperatures so that I can reach a bunch of hard-chargin' singers and infect them with my particular illness is probably bad for everyone. I'd been planning this for about 3 months and nobody's more upset than I am at the timing. So that being said, if anyone (not you, AJ) wants to drive out to Denver and take care of me for the duration of my stay at Chez sick-ass, I wouldn't object. Cheers.

To the ninja-trained, steroid-enhanced, cyborg-from-the-future, dark-side-motherfuckin'-enhanced bully-boy of a virus that has decided to make me its bitch for the last 9 days: I get it. You're a badass. If we were in prison, I'd be calling you daddy! The nightmarish fever was enough. The persistant hacking cough, massive lethargy, ill-desire to hold food, and favor with Bush-administration sleep-deprivation techniques was all upsetting, but hey! we'll go with it. But now I can't fucking hear anything, which is just overkill. You've made your point and now it's time to move on up out of my body and go kill someone else for a while. We've had our dance, and now I'd like to move to the next lovely viral lass on my card, which is..... oh look typhoid. Still sounds better than this shit. Sick boy out!

So you get a second gnome, name her Hilda, place her in front of him, and, using your fantastic propping expertise, extend his arms around her abdomen in a hooka hooka hooka type manner, and also in a way that doesn't look like raunchy gnome sex.

DINNER PARTY!!! (note: not to be confused with Donner Party, which while technically a dinner party, is not the type of dinner party one usually attends. So definately down on the Donner Dinner parties, but down with the Daniel Dinner parties, dontchaknow)

This is what happens when Daniel and AJ get really bored and search ebay for the stupidest shit we can find. Enjoy!

With this spell, YOU TOO can make millions in the lottery

Read the subheading and know that you too can summon demons from the privacy of your very own home

Just... just wow

Action Jesus. Now with action blessing grip

One soul. Pristine order.

You can buy them individually or as one grand grace-filled collection.

Again... just... just wow.

You too can be a member of the landed gentry.

Pardon me while I run screaming from the room in blinding horror.

No fun story. No reason to care. Just... yeti tears

I just like it for the hutzpah

Here's a fun game. Make up what the presents will actually be.

Bitter, Angry Ex-girlfriend

Sell Your Soul (make sure you watch the video)

Holy Crap!

Okay. I just got a rather pricey loaner. I should be good for the next couple of weeks. Same number.

Yeah. So my phone just died today and I don't think I'll be able to Frankenstein it. So hurray, I've gotta buy a new phone. I don't know if I'll have a new one before going into St. Louis, so if you had any intention of calling me this weekend, you might want to try e-mail instead. It sucks, I know, but what are you going to do. Stay tuned to this bat-channel for updates.

I have $3.63 in my checking account, $10 in my wallet, and a big fat 0 in my savings, and I'm travelling to St. Louis for the weekend. Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.

Today was a super-duper awesome day! I got a call from a - well I suppose friend - but previously aquaintence, Kate out of the clear blue sky asking me if she wanted to go up to the mountains this weekend and putz around. Well who am I to turn a trip to the mountains down? So of course I agreed.

As of yesterday, I hadn't heard word one from Kate, but gathering the kind of person that she is, I still figured we were going out and so it was my happy surprise this morning to find a text from her asking when we were heading out. I checked the weather and road conditions in Estes Park, given how overcast and generally gloomy it looked down here, and discovered 40 degrees and a 30% chance of rain. Well crap! said myself to myself. I seriously considered calling her back and saying that it looked crappy, but I figured "HEY! DUMB-DANIEL! MOUNTAINS! REDHEAD! GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR!" So we had a lovely lunch and a lovelier, albeit extremely foggy trip up to Estes, the long, prettier way through the foothills and had a nice quick jaunt around that fair town. I oogled the dogs and the music shop, she oogled the statues of Ganesh and Lakshme. It was great fun.

At about sometime o'clock we headed into Rocky Mountain National Park, and with one svelte move of my pass-laden hand (care of my last trip up last week with my dear friend AJ) we entered a the park and were greeted with ELK IN THE MIST! No seriously! It was a huge friggin' herd. We got up to hiking country and had a really wonderful hike around the various lakes off the trail. Every one of my friends brings a different perspective to going up to the mountains, and each I thoroughly enjoy (e.g. Lindsay and snowshoing in circles, AJ and running up to the top of the world), but Kate was the closest to me. We spent probably a third of our time rocked back on our heels at the beauty of the fog-covered banks and the local proliferation of precious and enduring life. We didn't even notice the night rolling in us until it was too late. We ended up driving, very trecherously, down highway 36 to Boulder with no lights save the mist-scattering beams of oncoming traffic.

Even though we didn't do much in real terms, I had a wonderful time. Here's to more.

I am stud-licious.