For those of you who aren’t aware or simply forgot, New York is fucking nuts. Chicago, the third largest city in the U.S., seems big, but the Big Apple makes the Windy City look like me next to Dwight Howard; granted, it is over four times the size (and so is he). But still, you forget just how big it is until you’re standing on 34th Street, surrounded by monstrosities that make you wonder how the hell anybody every built this massive place.
New York is awesome, but it revolves a bit too much around money for my liking, being the 22-year-old recent graduate that I am. People are packed like sardines into tiny little apartments for a quarter-million dollars a month and every conversation somehow alludes to Franklin or Jackson, or at least Lincoln, if you’re only taking a three-block cab ride.
Ok enough about New York; time for Diarrhea of the Mind (DOM), Episode 2:
What the hell is LeBron James worried about a max contract for? The majority of his future bankroll will come from endorsements and appearances, not his NBA salary. In which case, doesn’t he and Chris Bosh have to play for the Knicks? Geoff Thaw, Russell’s dad is certain he’ll be a Knick within a few weeks. The flatlanders out here seem to disagree…
It’s funny how our Camp Cedar crew remains so close, even though we haven’t really spent more than a weekend together in seven years when we were 15. I guess that’s what you get for spending over a year’s worth of your gambling (kidding, sort of) and playing sports with the same people while aged 9-15. That said, great seeing Russell, Danny Tuckman, Josh Dembling, Glenn Alterman, Eric Cohen, Harry and Jared Freid and Keith Benjamin in Manhattan over the weekend. Oh the friendships the Hackers have created…
Shoutout to my boy Zubair (also known as Pooh Bear, thanks to Jeff Shocket) for just being a boss.
Anti-shoutout to Shocket for being absent this weekend and not answering any of our 73 calls during that time.
As obnoxious as New York can be in regards to money, it does get your business wheels spinning. Although, maybe it’s just hanging out with Tuckman that does that for me. We’d talk business in Fargo, N.D., too. But it is extremely motivating to see everyone working so hard in the city, as I wait on deck for my Aug. 23 start date at Coyote.
I thought I said enough about New York?
Quote of the Weekend: “Mother, I’d like to have dinner with you; would you like to have dinner with me?” – Tuckman. Kid’s just a businessman.
Shoutout to Jared Freid for following his dream of being a comedian in New York. Keep it up kid; don’t anyone discourage you. Until you're broke. Kidding, I thought you were fuckin' funny.
Did Dustin Pedroia, Clay Buchholz and Victor Martinez really all get hurt in one weekend? God damn it.
Great seeing Tessa Drake in New York, too, even though she didn’t go to Cedar. Keep workin’ hard, Tess. If I ever need a project translated, you’re my girl.
Also very nice to meet Glenn's girlfriend, Anne Michael Langguth, also known to the general, plebeian public as "Miss Iowa." Attaboy, Glenn.
On second (more like ninth or tenth) thought, maybe it’s better if LeBron and Bosh go to Chicago and Carmelo goes to New York next year after Eddie Curry’s contract expires. I just don’t want the Bulls to dominate while I’m living there. I hate Chicago fans, maybe even more than New York fans.
Whoever invented the stock market never intended for this kind of ridiculous volatility.
Speaking of markets, if you have any interest in economics whatsoever, you have to read Michael Lewis’ The Big Short. Not only is he the best writer of this generation, but the book is insane. Man AIG, Moody’s and S&P really fucked up bad (not to mention pretty much everyone else on Wall Street, except for a select few). More thoughts on the book in DOMs to come, since I'm only 120 pages in…
Wish I had enough money to invest in real estate right now. My real estate professor told us he took loans out to invest when he was 22. I think I’m all set, but thanks.
Will anyone be able to throw against the Jets this season? Damn I hate (but modestly respect) Rex Ryan.
For work, I just called a farmers’ market called “Famers’ Market.” The lady answered the phone, “farmers’ market?” It’s like naming your supermarket, “Supermarket.” Only in Detroit, I guess.
American sports need to adopt the rigid regulations that FIFA has on its referees. You fuck up, you’re gone. No more Joe Crawford T-ing up Tim Duncan for smiling from the bench and no more Jim Joyce fucking up perfect games. As Trump would say, You’re Fired!
My friends from Dublin, Eric and Alan Flanagan, make fun of Americans for saying “PKs,” as in Penalty Kicks. Apparently the rest of the world just calls them “penalties.” Who knew?
Thought about flying back to Barcelona for the Spain-Portugal match today (and by “thought,” I mean, “dreamed”). Atmosphere’s got to be insane. Extremely jealous of Kristine Chau for being there right now.
The FIFA Final Four could be full of South Americans after Saturday. Spain should be there, but if Paraguay can come up with a miracle, it’s very possible.
Can you tell I’m into the World Cup? My money’s on (not really) Brazil. Glad I won’t be in Framingham yet for that nonsense.
Should I go skiing by myself in Portillo, Chile next month? I know no Spanish. Still thinking about rolling the dice…
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