Welcome To The Internets, Doris [Non-Sports]

Everyone has had a crazy neighbor. We knew she was a little strange when we first spotted the yellowed newspapers she had stuffed in the top corner of one of her (broken) windows visible from our apartment. Occasionally she would blast classical music out of her AM/FM-Radio/Tape Deck combo right on the window sill, which you could hear even if both of our windows were closed.

When my buddy Sampson and I were looking for a place down here, we wanted outside space. Non-negotiable. It is an incredibly valuable commodity in Manhattan and it allows us to grill year round, which is obviously essential. We pay through the nose for it, but it's honestly worth it, especially during the summer.

When we first moved in, it was July and the terrace was a death trap of silver tar. On the hottest days, you could leave footprints just by walking on it, and the railings oozed black tar that ruined more than a few articles of clothing.

Neither of us had a "job" at that point, so we spent about three days and three trips to the Home Depot in Secaucus transforming a worthless space into the selling point of our apartment.

We didn't go in blind. My Dad used to wake me up at 7:00AM on weekends when I was 8 years old to help him with carpentry projects around our house. Sampson and I both worked for my cousin in Lake George over summer breaks in high school building custom lake houses in Cleverdale.

Sampson came up with the design, and I took care of most of the logistics. We carried every board, nail, bucket of stain, and FastenMaster Screw up six flights of stairs and I don't regret a second of it.

The fact that we had people over somewhat frequently didn't sit well with most of our neighbors. The people who lived here before us were apparently never around, which was a stark contrast to two 22 year olds with no jobs and a propensity for late nights and generous pours of Johnny Walker Red.

Doris' terrace borders on ours, not shown to the left in that picture.

The first run-in we had with her was when she called the fire department on us and had them confiscate our propane tank. Common sense would dictate that like a mother bear and her cub, you don't come between a man and his grill. We still don't know what exactly precipitated this most despicable act, but despite our initial outrage, we never said anything to her or retaliated in any way. We just bought a charcoal grill and used the extra 15 minutes it took to sear a couple of sirloins to drink another beer.

Doris used to just assume that everything that ended up on her terrace was a direct result of us, so she would sweep it up and throw it over on our side. It could have been a dead pigeon and she probably still would have tossed it over. Newsflash: There are numerous explanations for why something ends up on your terrace. We don't just throw shit over there for fun.

She also thought it would be a good idea to create a barrier between our spaces using an upside down ceramic planter, a wicker basket and some lattice, all strung together with twine. One day, I actually saw her during the daylight, and sarcastically complimented her on her work. She went "Oh, I just work with what I have, like Caldas, down in Brazil there". Riiiiiiight.

We actually have had some decent conversations with her, but her weird side inevitably came out. One night, Sampson passed out on the terrace and woke up to her throwing bird seed on him at 4:00AM.

We eventually built some spruce boxes where her odd "artwork" used to be, and planted some Aborvitaes for noise cancellation and privacy purposes. Doris was thrilled that we did it and we even planted some flowers on her side.

We had a truce for quite some time... until this weekend.

Earlier in the Fall, we nabbed a pumpkin on a golf trip to Jersey. It sat on our picnic table until it collapsed in on itself in late December. We threw it in one of the boxes to compost and it lay decaying peacefully there, ready to fertilize our Myrtle.

On Sunday, we went out to grill some chicken skewers for the Super Bowl and the rotting pumpkin was smashed on our AstroTurf. We had some ladies over at the time, so we laughed it off, and gave them the background on how crazy she was.

That lasted for about .10 of BAC. Around midnight we went back upstairs and took the remnants of the pumpkin and threw it all back on her side.

Why? Cause fuck her, that's why. There was no reason at all for her to take OUR pumpkin from OUR box and throw that shit on OUR terrace.

Well, today, I got home from work and decided to survey the terrace situation. She returned every chunk and every seed of the pumpkin back on our side. HA. Fuuuuuck that.

I had some leftover posterboard from the "Look At It, Dave" experiment, and decided it was a good time to use it. I made the following sign and Zip Tied it to one of the haphazardly arranged Time Warner cables on her side of the terrace, above the pile of pumpkin remains I threw back on her side.

[It reads:]

HEY DORIS!
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?

I think we already know the answer to that question... There is absolutely no reason for you to throw a composting pumpkin onto our terrace, which explains why we threw it back. You really shouldn't be touching the boxes we built or anything in them. We haven't bothered you for a long time, so...

STAY OUT OF OUR SHIT!

Cordially,
The 115 guys

The Maritimes [Music] [Non-Sports]

Stumbling upon the above gentleman's music was a total fluke. I found it when was downloading an album by Tash I actually purchased when I was a junior in high school and used to listen to with my boy Calvin driving around after school in Albany. My BitTorrent site has what they call "Similar Artist Maps", which are incredibly useful for finding music similar to other stuff you like.

Here is Eric Clapton's:

Pretty logical, right? It connects him to his side projects like Derek and the Dominoes, Cream and Blind Faith, people he's collaborated with such as B.B. King and Derek Trucks, and also similar guitarists like Stevie Ray Vaughan.

Now take a look at Tash's:

Tash was a member of The [sic] (should be "Tha") Alkaholiks, and DJ Revolution did some of the tracks on their later albums. The fact that he is linked with Classified is either a small sample size glitch or a very clever joke.

Rico Smith a.k.a Catastrophe (Tash) is a black dude from the West Coast of the U.S. and Classified is a white dude from the East Coast of Canada. They couldn't be further apart geographically or stylistically. But I like them both, so maybe the site is just that good.

The thing that is really awesome about Classified's music is that it's blissfully unselfconscious. He raps about being from Nova Scotia and says "oot" and "aboot" in his rhymes. If for nothing other than the unintentional comedy of a Canadian rapper who actually sounds Canadian, give the song below a listen. He's opened for Ludacris, Busta Rhymes and The Game, so he's got some real skills as well.

He forced his way up through the ranks of the underground rap scene, doing all of his own recording and producing on his own dime before signing a deal with URBNET Records in 2004.

"The Maritimes" is a genuine and aboveboard tribute to his home territory, framed by an underlying track of bagpipes.

I'm from the East Coast of Canada, home of the bag pipe,
Known for the fiddle players, beer and our keg price,
Known for Alexander Keith's and the Donair,
Home of the Mooseheads, but I don't really go there,
We pay a buck for a litre of gas (and)
Smokes cost $10 a pack (damn)
We always mix our tobacco with weed,
It's just the way, we always done it, shit is natural to me...

Respect.

Remember [Non-Sports]

I'm pretty sure yesterday was my first day without writing a post since New Year's. I wish it was because I stopped burning the candle from both ends for a day and finally got some sleep, or that I was away on a business trip.

Nope. Early last Wednesday morning, the world lost a good dude, and yesterday we said our goodbyes. My best friend's brother only had 29 years of this awesome thing we call life. He was one of the few people I know who liked music more than I do. Whether he was messing with Fruity Loops, playing the drums, or DJing I think he was at his happiest getting washed up in the sound waves of a thumping jam.

Besides being Yankee fans, we shared some other hobbies that I'm not going to mention in this space, but let's just say that yesterday morning, one of his best friends twirled one up using nothing but the finest, cut it in half, and while nobody was looking, slipped Dave a little something to camp on with St. Pete at The Pearly Gates.

It always seemed like you were searching for something, man. In a really abstruse and painful way for everyone else, you might have found it.

In the book Into The Wild, Jon Krakauer talks about how, by pushing himself to climb more and more dangerous mountain faces and "peering over the ledge of death", he had hoped to gain some amazing insight into life. DJ Dangerous Dave wasn't climbing actual mountains, but he certainly caught a couple glimpses of what was over that ledge.

You slept late, but were always up for a lively conversation. You had your problems, but who the fuck doesn't? It's just that usually, people get another chance.

Not sure if you liked this song or not, but it would take me all night to find something more appropriate.



"If you ever feel so sad,
And the whole world is driving you mad,
Remember, remember, today

And don't feel sorry,
'Bout the way it's gone,
And don't you worry,
'Bout what you've done"

R.I.P. David Lawrence Sampson
[May 6, 1979-January 21, 2009]

Plane Crash [Breaking News] [Non-Sports]

A small plane crashed into the Hudson River about an hour ago off of Midtown Manhattan, not far from my office on 57th street. Looks like they made a safe evacuation, but when its 21 degrees outside, that's not where you want to be.

Hope everyone is okay.

[Update: 5:05PM] It appears that all 148 passengers and the crew are safe. Well done.

[Update: 6:30PM] A co-worker of Cliff's was aboard one of the first ferries to respond and took the following picture]

I'm Calling BS [Non-Sports]

Apparently this little lady is auctioning off her virginity for $3.7M. I submitted a counter offer earlier today of "a dinner at Planet Sushi and a complimentary cab to the airport" but I haven't heard back.

Miss Dylan, from San Diego, California, USA, said she was persuaded to offer herself to the highest bidder after her sister Avia, 23, paid for her own degree after working as a prostitute for three weeks.

She said she had had a lot of attention from a wide range of men, including "weirdos", "those who get really graphically sexual about what they want to do to me" and "lots of polite requests from rich businessmen".

"Weirdos", huh? You don't say... (gasps) I would guess only the most normal of people would be looking to spend an actual fortune for about a half hour with you just because you claim to have never had sex before!

Miss Dylan said she did not think it was particularly significant to be willing
to sell your virginity and insisted that she was happy to undergo medical tests
for any doubters.

Not "particularly significant"? $2.5 MILLION BRITISH POUNDS IS SIGNIFICANT. You make Indecent Proposal seem like a bargian.

I know there are people out there with a lot more money than I have ($273.43 - it was an expensive weekend), but why on God's green earth would anyone pay that much to have sex with someone one time? I honestly don't believe her.

In light of this story, Fack Youk contributor Big Willie Style is also auctioning off one night of paradise with him. Only sexy ladies need apply. The bidding will start at 10,000 internet dollars.