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Author: letitmar2016

Dilapidated Zones on the Perimeter

Dilapidated Zones on the Perimeter

The cobwebs cluttered between fingers unattended to during my literary sabbatical have proven burdensome to eradicate.  I’m not exactly sure what has kept me from jamming inconsequential thoughts onto this blog for nearly a year and half.  Sure, the typical excuses exist and are more prevalent and present than a hobo at a liquor store.  Life been busy.  Marriage been busy.  Work done been busy.  Yap, yap, yap…like a broken record.  Truth be told, inspiration seems to have consummated its scandalous relationship with the seductive succubus of ambivalence.  And…well…let’s just say that inspiration has long since abdicated the right to rock the denim in its courtship.  

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Hit It and Quidditch

Hit It and Quidditch

Mighty Taco…I see you.  Once again, I’m making my way back up to the frigidly mean streets of Buffalo.  My routinely brief 4-day vacation in Atlanta has come to its unfortunate end yet again (I am on a 10-day-on, 4-day-off work schedule).  For a city that I adore as much as Atlanta, my job has transformed it from the loving wife I spend every night with to the tantalizing skank I frolic and lollygag with on the weekend.  Every other Tuesday, I discreetly leave the money on Atlanta’s nightstand and shimmy my way on over to the airport.  You might as well call me Harry Potter, because I hit it and Quidditch every other weekend. 

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Statute of Dopeness

Statute of Dopeness

Truth be told, I can’t even recall how long it’s been since I’ve last felt the literary gumption to note down anything of inconsequential substance. In all honesty, things done changed quite a bit in my life since I’ve last posted. Unbelievable as it may sound, someone outside of their sane mind actually decided to suffer the unfortunate fate of spending the rest of their life with me. I know…I know…like you, I shudder in sympathy for my significantly better half. I mean, let’s keeps it real…George Clooney…I ain’t. So, needless to say, ish been a bit crazy over the past 6-8 months with the sandstorm of wedding activity that was swirling around in the stratosphere of my life. I spent many an hour many a night diddling around with the most miniscule of wedding details. So, there wasn’t really nary a minute for me to devote to blogging down any thoughts. Believe you me, I wanted to throw down some thoughts from my wedding weekend lunacy, but just couldn’t find the time nor motivation to get around to sharing my thoughts with my devoted quartet of readers.

Anyways, things have settled down somewhat now. I’ve been married (wow, still sounds a little foreign saying that) for over two months now. The Honeymoon (Thailand – Phuket, Chiang Mai, and Bangkok) exceeded any statute of dopeness I could’ve drafted prior to departure.

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Fabricated Wins from the Cloth of Despair

Fabricated Wins from the Cloth of Despair

As spare time becomes sparse and complacency teeters on the edge of becoming commonplace, very infrequently do I find myself inspired to blog.  Truth be told, the indiscriminate culprit is probably more a haphazard concoction of apathy and ambivalence than anything else.

Like I said, recently, I’ve needed great inspiration to fuel any ambition of mine to blog.  That inspiration would be the Dallas Mavericks winning the NBA title…and, more importantly, Dirk Nowitzki finally validating himself as one of the great power forwards of all time.  Back in 2006, when the Dallas Mavericks gakked up a title that they appeared destined to win, I was out of the country and wasn’t able to catch up with the NBA Finals until weeks later.  I was pulling heavily for Nowitzki and his Mavs in 2006.  Ironically enough, I saw the Dallas Mavericks finally extinguish those irrepressibly dark memories of 2006…outside of the country. 

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Flowers Out the Wazoo, Drapes Up the Hoo Hah

Flowers Out the Wazoo, Drapes Up the Hoo Hah

What better motivation to blog than when stuck sitting idly by as an Indian wedding proceeds.  Believe you me, an Indian wedding is a spectacle to behold – for those that haven’t ever witnessed it.  After you’ve attended a few, the traditional proceedings can appear borderline cumbersome.  So, when the goblin of monotony annoyingly tickles the brain stem of my attention, I consult alternate methods of entertainment.  The smartphone. Giggidy.

All of this weekend’s wedding festivities are taking place in the spectacularly mundane streets of Mactown.  The couple getting married today must’ve broken off a slice of expensive, gourmet bread.  They did it right.  Flowers out the wazoo, drapes up the hoo hah.  Fist tap and kudos to the bride and groom for doing it big.  I’ll actually be getting married in this same building (a Hindu temple) in less than six months.  My Cinnabun hails from the nook and cranny of Macon (Forsyth – the city, not the county) – so there really ain’t no other place to have a bloated wedding than at the temple.  We definitely ain’t got the means to go all out like this couple did. 

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The Checking Account of my Conscience

The Checking Account of my Conscience

Here I am, at 3:04 in the morning, trying to squeeze out every ounce of complacency that I can out of the wintery fresh toothpaste of unemployment.  What has driven me to this inevitable point?  Well…my delusions of professional grandeur have taken a backseat to the unavoidable roadblock of the immediate future.  The financial obligations of the present and near future have propelled me back into the search for an engineering gig.  However, these past 3 months of unemployment have only reaffirmed the fact that I will not end my professional career as an engineer – there remains scant doubt of that.  I will have to find a way to juggle reality with fantasy.  Eventually, hopefully…

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Canas, Tapas, and Bendy Straws

Canas, Tapas, and Bendy Straws

This is a draft I wrote after coming back from my most recent trip to Spain in October of 2009.  It’s been sitting around in my drafts folder for an embarrassing minute.  I guess I just never got around to publishing it…until now.

Was I really chowing down a falafel from Maoz in Madrid just over two weeks ago?  Did I have to board the bullet train of time back to the daily grind?

Southern Spain.  Beautiful…and…cheap(er).  This marked my 3rd time being in Spain (other times being when I studied abroad in Valencia and when I backpacked through Western Europe during the 2006 World Cup).  So, I didn’t exactly experience that “wow” factor that most folks do when witnessing the opulent splendor of a country as historically significant and aesthetically breathtaking as Spain. 

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Fate Excused my Lackadaisical Approach

Fate Excused my Lackadaisical Approach

You didn’t actually think that I’d accurately predict the outcomes of both conference championship games last weekend…did you?  Being average seems to be the hoodie that fits best over my unintelligible skull.  However…Cutler being knocked out of the game after the 1st series in the 3rd quarter may have had something to do with the outcome in the Bears-Packers game.  Shit…you know damn well that I’ll ride that scapegoat to a photo-finish.

However…truth be told, I wouldn’t bet a nickel on 100-1 odds on Jay Cutler in big moments – so maybe it wouldn’t have made nary a difference if he had finished. 

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Knee-Jerk Hyperbole and Effusive Superlatives

Knee-Jerk Hyperbole and Effusive Superlatives

In my opinion, this is the last weekend of legitimate football this NFL season. Championship Weekend. You’d think that Super Bowl weekend holds more significance to me…but it doesn’t.  To me, Super Bowl Sunday is an overhyped concoction of exaggerated media coverage and belabored storylines. I am not a big fan of the two week break between Championship Weekend and Super Bowl Sunday. I can take only so much analysis. More often than not, Super Bowls have failed to live up to the hype (the two most recent Super Bowls notwithstanding).

Anyways, in light of my pleasantly mediocre results from last week’s picks for the Divisional Playoffs, I’m going to make picks for this weekend’s pair of championship games as well.

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Smoochin’ the Lips of Mediocrity

Smoochin’ the Lips of Mediocrity

Smoochin’ the lips of mediocrity, in my composition book, should be received with an ear deafening crescendo of applause.  I went 2-2 in my NFL Divisional Playoff picks.  Unfortunately, as I alluded to in my last post, I feared that picking the Falcons to win would foreshadow a Packers upset.  An infallible prognosticator I certainly am not.  Heartbreaking as that loss was, consolation was warmly received in a Jets upset of the New England Patties.  As I explained in brief detail previously, Boston fans…are…well…just downright indecent.  A few friends of mine are hardcore Boston fans.  They’re alarmingly infatuated with all things Boston sports.  Anyhoot, rather than diluting their tears in an unsavory mound of humble pie, they’ve taken the defensive route of teetering on the seesaw of denial.  I understand the recent hatred between the New York Jets and the Patriots…but…

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