What its all about

Step Right Up!

And Go For It!

This weekend wasn't destined to be something important. There were no special events, no parites, no championship games, nothing. Just a regular 3 day weekend. However, it just didn't work like that.

As the formaldihide smell finally left my nostrils, I left my 4B Bio class with the thoughts of the "Baconater" still sloshing around in my head. I needed to clear my mind. After talking to Ryan on the way out of school, I figured out that he had "bent" the rules and found a way around the strict rules issued by "Ro" Shambleau about sophomores driving. Anyway, I got to duel it out with Haley for riding shotgun. After a good bodycheck and a quick rock-paper-scissors match, I found myself up front. Awesome.



After reviewing some video footage, which we found futile, Ryan had to go do more important things, which can be read on his blog "Trot Spot". Anyway, Kevin and I decided that we head up to the Northville Swim Club. It was opening day there, so we decided that we would take Gearns along in the Lumina. Uppon arrival, we put up some crazy shots on the b-ball court, then decided that we needed to go back to our naural enviornment: the diving pool.


A note to the reader: The three meter board a.k.a. high dive is the highlight for any little kid's visit to the Northville Swim Club. A chance to scream your lungs off while falling from 12 feet up is enough to give anyone a boost of adreniline. Anyway, Kevin, Ryan, Victor and occasionally Timothy have complete rule over the high dive. They work their majic day in and day out off the towering board, doing flips and similar activities. I would watch from the low dive, and decided not to attempt anything crazy from such a high height. I had attempted a one and a half last year and broke my ear drum off the high dive, so that's why I remained slightly scared . . . ok terrified off the high dive.


So there I was, doing my usual dives off the 1 meter low dive, and I decided that today, things would be different. Not just today, but for the rest of the year. After some helpful hints from Kevin, I was ready to go for it. As I approached the line, I asked the small boy in line behind me if he wanted to jump first, but he said no, it's your turn. It was my turn.


I positoned myself on the board, and completed a perfectly excecuted reverse, or at least a very nice one. I then realized that if I believed in myself, I could do whatever I wanted. I know it's cheesy, but it's true. Conquering your fears, thats what the summer's all about.

Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Ukrop 2008

Warhol 1968

In 1968 the artist Andy Warhol, famous for originating his own style of painting said that everyone will get their 15 minutes of fame. Earlier in my life, if this statement was told to me, I would most likely wonder when my fame would arrive. Possibly a picture in the Northville Record, or a candid shot of me in the Thornton Creek yearbook, but that was not the case. My 15 minutes arrived later.

I have been involved in building model cars for a few years now, nothing really serious. However, I had recently posted a video of one of my cars on the popular sight YouTube. Most of the time, YouTube is a webstie for nobody's to turn into somebodys for muttering a phrase such as "I like Turtles!" or "It's Candy Mountian Charlie!" but for me this was not the case. After a few weeks, my car gained recognition among the online enthuisasts. Now this video snowballed into me recieving several e-mails to sell my car for undisclosed ammounts of cash. Wow.

Although the offers were outrageous, I decided to keep my car. One day, as I opened up a magazine, HOT ROD deluxe, I noticed a picture of my car. My very own car which I had built over the past summer sitting proudly on the page! What luck! I couldn't believe that something I had built had gone from a video on YouTube to a picture in a National Publication bought by readers all across the Country.

So I guess looking back, Warhol was right with his 40 year old saying. I got my 15 minutes of fame. Did you?

Take the Risk

The weekend. All of us work towards that common goal. No matter who we are, where we live, or what are upbringing is we work towards this great achievement. Our thoughts revolve around what were going to do on Friday night. For many people, images of going to see an overpriced movie or spending the greater half of the evening in a smoky bowling alley jump to their minds. However, my friends have developed a tradition. Risk.

Risk. A game created by Parker Brothers has been filling teenage boys' heads with thoughts of world domination since 1957. With just a roll of the dice, you can conquer other nations, and advance your armies across the globe. Awesome.

Your probably putting two and two together, and figuring out that my friends and I sometimes decide to test out our tactical skills and fight for global domination. First, you need to meet the players.

Andrew (A.U.-Red Army) The leader who stays true to one nation, and one nation alone. Ukraine. Forget the Seinfeld quote "The Ukraine is weak!" because that is where he sets up camp. No matter what, A.U. will not give up his stronghold.

Jordan (Green army) The player who always suggests, "Lets play risk, it will be fun!" Whatever bribes are needed to get players involved, Jordan will make sure to do everything in his power to make people play risk. He tends to concentrate his pieces on Africa, but his home base is in good 'ole Alaska.

Joey (me-Yellow army) I mostly am the one who gets dragged into the game. Although, A.U. usually makes a treaty and the two of us form an alliance. I always work hard to establish my army in the North America, which will earn me a few more soldiers. We usually end up saying "Lets both take out Jordan," and once he is eliminated, the game goes downhill from there.

Ryan. (Grey army). Ryan is the player who immediately goes for the "last stand" area, or the Indonesia-Australia venue. He makes sure to stock-pile his army with as many soldiers as possible, and hope to roll some good numbers.

Kevin. (White army) Usually a substitute for Ryan, Kevin attempts to take Asia, but is annihilated in the beginning. This is no problem for him though, because there is usually some quality (nope) programming on Cartoon Network's "adult swim".

The game usually starts around 9:00 p.m., with high hopes for the adventure ahead of us. We make sure to take a trip to the BP station to pick up some Monster, Mountain Dew, Pepsi, Coke, or Jordan's usual Red Bull to keep us fueled for the night. Typically, a few more trips are made in Jordan's Subaru with the music bumpin' into the night. We can already feel the joy of capturing Urkusturk or Katchamaka. Silly slogans like "My name is Ural" will be said when the territory of Ural is captured. This is gonna be great!

10:00 p.m. Each player has played their first move, establishing their armies. Jordan breaks the seal on his Red Bull. Andrew mixes some concoction of Mountain Dew Code Red, with a little bit of NOS. Kevin, cracks open a Monster BFC. I break out a tumbler, half filled with ice, and pour a bit of Mt. Dew original in it. It's gonna be a long night.

11:00 p.m. With a bit of dice rolling, some territories are gained, some are lost. Andrew mutters his usual phrase "Resistance is futile!" as he takes over yet another continent on his world Blitzkrieg. There is auguring over whether the dice got enough rotation, and if the board was "modified" while someone was in the bathroom. The game is starting to heat up.

12:00-Midnight Cans begin to pile up as the night wears on. The game has just hit the two hour mark, with Kevin hardly holding in there. With a snap of the wrist, A.U. rolls the Three Offensive Red Dice to defeat the last ranks of Kevin's army. First player to be eliminated. Kevin turns on the T.V.

1:00 a.m. With the faint sound of the cast of "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" in the background, the game wears on. Ryan has began his troop assemblies in Indonesia. Jordan decides that he needs to take Ryan out at all costs. However, he only has two "Risk Cards" so he needs to wait another turn to gain 36 additional troops. That won't happen anytime soon.

2:00 a.m. Jordan collected his cards, and is ready to take down Ryan's Military base. With a few well placed rolls, Jordan emerges victorious, but with many casualties. However, he will not let that stop him. The game is beginning to loose speed.

3:00 a.m. Andrew, expanding from his base in Europe, decides that I need to be taken out. Our treaty from earlier in the game has failed. My courageous Yellow army fights to the death, but with nothing to show. I felt like Matthew Broderick at the end of the movie Glory, as I was destroyed by the opposing army. It's about time for me to go to sleep.

4:00-6:00 a.m. As I fade in and out of a deep sleep, I can hear Jordan and A.U. bickering at each other about cheating, mis-rolls, re-rolls, and Rick-rolls. Once, there was an accusation for cursing the dice. In the end, Andrew and his Red Army always emerge victorious. His perfect record continues.

So this time the game was completed in the suggested time frame of 1-8 hours. I have no idea who thought of those numbers, but whoever they are, they have clearly never played the game before.

So remember, when you're caught up in a deep sleep on Friday night, feel good knowing that the leaders of tomorrow are battling for World Domination.

Take the Risk. Join us if you dare.

Surplus of Fun

After overhearing some kids in my 2nd hour English 10 class discussing strapping themselves to a 65 year old parachute, putting on some Chineese Flight Goggles and taking flight out of the sunroof of their car at 75 mph, I decided that I had a solid mission to accomplish over the weekend. That mission was to complete the trek to Joe's Army & Navy Surplus store in Royal Oak, MI.

You are probably thinking that driving to some store 38 miles away isn't too bad, but my friends made it just a bit more difficult. After facing gale force winds and cold temperatures at work for a few hours, I was ready to depart. I called up my good friend and fellow hockey player Zach Gearns (Gearns for short) and told him to fire up the Lumina and get ready to go. The Lumina, however, is no showroom fresh ride. It is a high speed behemouth that has been running like a well oiled machine since its first glimpse of daylight in 1992. With Gearns behind the wheel, he makes good use of every cubic inch of that 3.1 liter transversally mounted v-6. With me riding shotgun, we drove over to pick up Ryan and Kevin, two more members of our crew. We were locked and loaded, ready to adventure to new places.

"Turn Right, then take the motorway," the TomTom GPS system said in its Australian accent. We looked towards the highway, only to find the ramp under construction. Darn. So we followed the detour signs all the way to West 14 Mile road. "Your destination is ahead on the left," said the Electronic Aussie. The coins jingled in our pockets, and we could already invision the aisles upon aisles of Government Issued goods used for combat over the past six decades. As we looked to our left, all we saw was a parking lot. Someone (not naming names) had programmed the GPS wrong, because it was "wrong on the website." Oh well, Gearns has to go to hockey, so we better get going home.

With everyone dropped off, only Ryan and I remained. "I'm not giving up," he said, not being one to quit. So with the guidance of TomTom and the real adress, we left on our quest again. Following the detours, we thought we were well on our way. However, one wrong turn off the highway and we were at 8 and Haggerty. Wow, that's a downer. I guess we will return home as failures we thought. "I know that we will make it there by the end of the weekend," I said.

Note: My older brother, Andrew (known as A.U.) who is an aficionado for all things millitary did not join us due to golfing. On our third and final expidition, he would be piloting the "riceburner" 2008 Pontiac Vibe, which is my mother's car. We would not be taking "Deisel Tank" GMC Sonoma, because my dad did not trust it's safety for such an adventure.

Buckeled in, A.U, Gearns and I all jumped into the ricer, ready to embark on our final crucade to the promised land. However, it was not milk and honey but .50 cal. amunition and gas masks that we yearned for. After passing the "shiney building with the lake" no more than three times, countless occourances of yelling, and yes, we did even bring Bob Saget into this. But after Gearns prevented the retreat by whipping out his gas card and buying gas at the BP station. Running out of gas far away from home was not a risk worth taking. Finally, after countless encounters with ____burners, or lets just say foriegn cars, we arrived between 13 and 14 mile roads on Woodward Ave. Joe's Army Navy Surplus was in clear sight.

The building was what appeared to be an old pharmacy, built during Detroit's golden Era when the Big Three were something to take pride in. Next to the House of Exotic Fish where you could pick up some Chineese Fighting Fish for only $7.99 a piece, the building was just a plain shell for the treasures hidden inside the Desert Tan building. Entering the door, we felt like Steven Hawkings in a Math/Science Expo. Except there was no math and no Microsoft Sam voices. Anyway, we managed to browse the store, seeing how far we could stretch our $20.00. I decided that a Russian Gas mask and some Air Force Issue Aviator glasses would do the trick for me. A.U. on the other hand, decided that an East German Cold War gas mask was the appropriate choice. Gearns decided that a pair of Chineese Flight Goggles, smelling of old leather fit his style. Leaving the store, we had a sense of pride that could only be trumped by Jamie Escalante in the final scene his film, Stand and Deliver. Cha Ching.

Decked out in our gas masks and flight goggles, the three of us jumped into the ricer and began the commute home. Rolling down the windows to breathe in the filtered air, we recieved a potpourri of looks from the traffic. The expressions on the peoples' faces was worth the $10.99 alone. But hey, it's not everyday you see some guys who look like they're ready for a nuclear attack.

We are prepared . . . and had fun doing it.

Quest for the Fieldhouse:Friday

When high school sports come up, everyone's mind immediatly skips to the Varsity football, Basketball, Baseball, and sometimes Swimming. However, within the depths of the Northville High School sports system, a small new sports team has been developed: Roller Hockey. Now most people either are clueless about the sport, or think its a bunch of punk kids who wear their polos (collars popped) and 5950 hats to the rink. Here in Northville, we took roller hockey to a whole new level. Sorta.

To the casual observer, making the Varsity team may seem like the most favorable outcome. Not when your dealing wiht the NHS Jv roller hockey team. Like Cory Reitman said, Varsity may be better, but Jv has all the fun.

With that aside, our less than sucessful regular season ended with nothing more than vendettas against all other players in the league. But this weekend was different, we would be heading to Joe Dumar's Fieldhouse in Utica, MI.

As soon as school ended on Friday, me, Trotter, and Zach decided that we would need to begin our treck towards the Maxx arena, which was located approximately an hour away from our safe, civilized Northville homes. With our gear packed, we were on our way.

After doing a bit of pothole surfing, we arrived at the Maxx sports arena. Because Zach traveled independentaly, he arrived a little earlier than us. I recieved a phone call from Zach. "I don't think I am going to get out of the car," he said, "this place doesn't look too safe!"

Trotter and I arrived and the three of us reconvined. We walked into the delapidated structure, which seemed like it was deserted. But ther behind a desk, chewing gum loudly was the lady who appeared to be running the place. "Where is the rink?" we asked. "Were here with the Northville Roller hockey team." Looking inconvienced, she looked around and told us that we were at the wrong place. Fooey.

At that exact moment, a multitude of strange things started happening. Some chunky twelve year old girls emerged from a dark door with multi-colored lights flashing. They had the "get off our turf stupid Northville boys" look in their eyes. After further investigation, we saw the rink, which looked as if it were straight out of Midway's NHL Hitz 2003 with a slight hint of Saturday Night Fever. The place was legit and I mean LEGIT late 70's early 80's roller disco. Groovy. As we concluded exploring the place, the 1987 Classic by Rick Astley "Never Gonna Give You Up" began playing. We just got Rick Rolled.

After these bazar events took place, we advanced across the roads which looked like they had a bad encounter with some German Flak 88s. Finally, we had arrived at the promised land, and our home away from home for the weekend: Joe Dumar's Fieldhouse.

Introduction

I have been thinking for a while now for finally making my own place for sharing my stories that have been collecting dust inside my head, only to be taken out during a late night bonfire or crowded area filled with people eager to listen. So on this fine Cinco de Mayo, my blog Deluxe begins.

Dig in!