The first of posts

My new friend Allison, who is actually a friend by default-which cheapens it significantly, inspired me to create this blog. I decided it's time to release some of the genius that circulates throughout my brain on a daily basis to a public audience. I'm going to lay down some personal ground rules for myself before I delve into blogging:

1. Don't write and pretend you hate doing it, because you obviously dont
2. Don't not not phrase things in an unnatural way to seem original
3. Don't use this as a medium to brag about things in my life to people from high school
4. Don't put this much thought into what #4 should be

Okay, so we've begun. The first topic I'd like to address is the people I see on my way to get bagels at night. I pass by several bars and clubs as I live in the social hub of Manhattan. There are always small groups of dudes, for which I have coined the term "Groupadudes." Groupadudes are an interesting bunch. They travel in packs of three or four males, all in jeans and dress shirt. They never fail to have some clueless heterosexual flaw to their appearance like Adidas shelltoe shoes or wrinkles on the back of their shirt. Much like many of my neighbors at SU, Groupadudes simply love grunting and yelling "Owww." They are always at any given time on the tail end of a laughing fit about something that just happened. Ya know, I'm gonna come back to this later.

Today, on my lunchbreak, I saw two birds on the street struggling with each other. They were flipping and flailing about violently. I walked by feeling awkward as I assumed they were doing the deed, but upon closer investigation found their beaks to be stuck together. The possibilities of the events preceeding this moment were far more fascinating to me than the current interlocked state of these little beings. Also on my lunchbreak, I was walking down the street and realized I forgot what I was wearing today. I wanted to challenge myself and refused to look down as I went over the vast number of clothing combinations in my wardrobe. How could I forget? For the life of me, I couldn't think of what I had not only dressed myself in, but made it til 3:00 PM without noticing apparently.

I'm trying Indian food for the first time this upcoming weekend. My co-worker Mark told me to tell the waiter "not to give me any of that pussy shit, but the REAL spicy stuff." We'll see...

I was supposed to make a film about gay people. Whatever happened to that?