Things you do after taking a hard shot of liquor

• Speak in fake Japanese
• Say "Hello Ma'am" and make a little barf burp
• Play the drums real quick

Snapchat activates the forward-facing camera on your phone when you access the login screen without telling you

See those teeth? That's me. Let's enhance a bit with Photoshop just for clarification.

Snapchat turns on the forward-facing camera on your phone when you access the login screen but it's barely noticeable. I was in a low light situation so it became more apparent but if you were say at your desk, outside, or not sitting in your room with a blanket stapled over the window, then you would never notice it.

This is how bad my farts smell at work...

I've been eating a lot of broccoli and beans lately for lunch with my salads. It basically generates enough gas inside my bowels to fill an industrial sized propane tank. In the afternoon I freely toot it out in steady intervals, never considering that fact that it could effect the people that sit 20ft away from me.

Brown, Sally [2:24 PM]:
Hi Tony

Vecchi, Tony [2:24 PM]:
hello

Brown, Sally [2:24 PM]:
Quick question for ya
Brown, Sally [2:25 PM]:
have you been smelling anything lately in the afternoon?
Brown, Sally [2:25 PM]:
almost like eggs or something

Vecchi, Tony [2:25 PM]:
yea its kinda weird...
Vecchi, Tony [2:25 PM]:
i have no idea what it is
Vecchi, Tony [2:25 PM]:
maybe a pipe broke or something? hahah

Brown, Sally [2:25 PM]:
I know do you smell it now?
Brown, Sally [2:26 PM]:
I might have security come try to smell it haha

Vecchi, Tony [2:26 PM]:
hahahaha

Brown, Sally [2:26 PM]:
I smell it

Vecchi, Tony [2:26 PM]:
yea its kinda strange, i smell it to. i think other people have said they smell it

Brown, Sally [2:26 PM]:
but I want to wait until its really strong so they dont think Im crazy

Vecchi, Tony [2:26 PM]:
hahhaha
Vecchi, Tony [2:26 PM]:
yea its kind of an... interesting situation
Vecchi, Tony [2:27 PM]:
well if you call them, i'll say something too

Brown, Sally [2:27 PM]:
its like at the printer area I think dont you?

Vecchi, Tony [2:28 PM]:
as much as i can smell in a certain direction, yes that seems to be where its eminating from
Vecchi, Tony [2:28 PM]:
i wonder if like an animal built a nest in the ceiling or something crazy like that

Brown, Sally [2:29 PM]:
I know it really gross smelling and its only in the afternoon
Brown, Sally [2:29 PM]:
I message John O'Brien and told him to come cause it smells but he is away from his computer haha

Vecchi, Tony [2:30 PM]:
hahahah oh man
Vecchi, Tony [2:30 PM]:
well thanks for taking the time to do something about it

Brown, Sally [2:31 PM]:
haha just wanted to make sure I wasnt the only one smelling it

Vecchi, Tony [2:32 PM]:
no i definitely catch a wiff of it from time to time
Vecchi, Tony [2:32 PM]:
seems like it's worse for you though!

Brown, Sally [2:34 PM]:
I know people probably think its me haha!

Vecchi, Tony [2:35 PM]:
hahahah awe man, well hopefully they'll figure it out soon or it goes away or something

Brown, Sally [2:35 PM]:
I think Justin Hebert is coming soon to smell around

Vecchi, Tony [2:35 PM]:
thank god

*At this point about 5 people show up and smell around Sally's desk. "Smells like eggs!" "Why does it only happen in the afternoon?" "I think it's you Sally!" were some quotes. The maintenance man decides to check below and above Sally's desk.

Brown, Sally [2:44 PM]:
I think for now I am just going to get a whole bunch of febreeze haha

Vecchi, Tony [2:45 PM]:
hahahah alright
Vecchi, Tony [2:45 PM]:
spritz some over in my direction too

Brown, Sally [2:47 PM]:
I will spray the entire hallway for sure

A Quick Email To My Voice Teacher Sent While Hungover

Sunday, June 27th, 2010

Dear XXX,

Unfortunately I need to cancel my lesson for this coming Monday the 28th. I drank myself into a retarded stupor last night and will only be able to produce sounds akin to that of a croaking frog for the next few days. Also, I believe I'm getting sick with that cold everyone who takes public transportation seems to have, despite my efforts to cover my face and hold my breath when a stranger coughs in my general direction. Also, I smoked a cigarette Saturday night. Also, I'm broke. With all of these reasons combined I hope you understand that if we were to meet this week our lesson would be you siting there playing piano and running through scales with an aged walrus blowing notes through a flat tire whose only payment would be a rusty tin can with 1 bean left inside.

I look forward to continuing our lessons next month, when I will be fully recovered, sober, and financially stable.

Thanks!

-Tony

Imagine If All The Water Disapeared

Bottled water that is.

During the Boil Order last week in Boston we saw a rampage for bottled water which left every CVS, Wholefoods, Target, and HESS gas station completely bereft of H20. I just so happened to be watching The Notebook that day and I swear to god my neighbor siphoned off my tears with a straw! The aqua-fervor became so outrageous there were stories of people buying water out of other people's shopping carts before they even reached the register only to have to buy it again! It wasn't like the water in our faucets was toxic, it wasn't as if when you turned on the cold tap a green mucus sludge belched forth into a frothing mass that ate through the floor. The water just had to be boiled. That's it! Just boiled. In my experiment it took about a half hour to boil 6 gallons of water, which is enough drinking water for 6 people a day. Then why the terror? Why did the Boil Order bubble over into a nightmare?

Because we're lazy.

Imagine this. During the Boil Order you actually boiled some water, filled a bottle, and let it sit overnight in the fridge to cool. What does it make? You guessed it, bottled water! Well put a feather in my cap Rob Hood because I just done make me a cup o' water.

So, what would have happened if we didn't have mountains of bottled water at our disposal? What if we lived in Concord when the water went bad?

Concord, MA Bans Bottled Water Sales: Environmentalists Confused With Encountering Common Sense and Eco-Empathy

In modern day Concord you can't buy bottled water! I imagine people's initial reaction upon hearing this is something akin to, "NOOOOOOO! I need my FIIJIIIIII WATER! I BABA DUBBA WAWA!"

Well my babies, too bad. Because of our collective laziness and irresponsibility we aren't allowed to have bottled water anymore. We're choking the environment with a plastic grip, we're polluting the oceans with discarded pull tabs and suckle tips. We've proved to this planet that we, as a human race, cannot handle the simple responsibility of reusing or recycling water bottles. What do you think? When you toss that Poland Springs out the window it lands on a bed of moss and is embraced back into the earth with the gentle arms of Mother Nature? NO! It just sits there. Then a baby raccoon finds it and somehow gets its head stuck inside. Soon little Ricky suffocates and dies and lies there to rot in the hot August sun. And it's your fault.

Don't blame the government or local town officials. They're just trying to lead you back upon the righteous path. Like I said before, we can't control ourselves. We are lazy and irresponsible and it's the government's job (sometimes) to guide and lead us in the most propitious direction.

So what if all the bottled water disappeared? What would we do? Gee... I don't know. What did people do 100 years ago when they were thirsty?

Think about it.

I imagine a Utopian paradise were every person each has their very own special water container that they keep for life. They'll be called, "Glug Sacks" and will be passed down from generation to generation. Different cultures will decorate their Glug Sacks with amazing colors and designs and form a strong communal bond. Across the world fountains of water will be available to all, each with an engraving that reads, "Water is the life mother. May it be free to all who desire."

Let's make it happen folks.

Can I have a sip from your Glug Sack?

Facebook Privacy Debate

I believe the saying is something akin to, "treat everything you do on the internet as if it were going to be the headline on tomorrow's newspaper." We as a generation (and perhaps a society) have no education on proper e-etiquette. Facebook is a wonderful tool if you use it properly, i.e. filter out friends you don't want, don't profess your innermost thoughts and emotions for the world to see in a status update, don't post pics of yourself naked guzzling pistachio pudding out of a plastic lawn ornament in the shape of a pig. It's about sensibility and responsibility.

I can't blame Facebook for wanting to cash in on people's info. I mean, they're not a philanthropist organization. How is Facebook going to profit if they can't collect and sell statistics on how many people have "Hebrew National Hotdogs" and "Justin Bieber" listed in their interests? And then, how will Bieber Dogs ever hit the market if companies don't know what people are interested in!? See? It's all for a good cause! Bieber Dogs in yo mouth!

My Review of MGMT's New Album "Shitabrontosaurusrex"

Since the internet already leaked their album, MGMT decided to say to the world, "You can't fire us, we already quit!"

Such guile! They preemptively posted their entire album before it hit the streets to get a one-up on their fans? Uh... let's hear what they have to say about this idea:

"We wanted to offer it as a free download but that didn't make sense to anyone but us"

Well yes! Of course it didn't make sense to anyone else BUT YOU (you rebels, you) because now your record label can't trick people into paying $10 to get sprayed in the face with a torrent of shit. They'll see it coming and run away before the first drop hits their cheek.

Anyway, take a listen!

http://www.whoismgmt.com/

OH HOW COOL A SONG ABOUT BRIAN ENO! I KNOW HIM!

Albums to listen to instead of the new MGMT album:

- Every album by the Kinks
- Having a Rave Up with The Yard Birds
- The Man Who Sold The World & Hunky Dory
- A recoding of a man inside an echo chamber who is vomiting pickles into a metal bucket

All of these are better than, or the original versions of, any of the musical ideas put forth in that album.

Green Line D to Riverside: Sink Hole to Hell

This is what I have had to deal with EVERY morning on my commute this week. The train stops directly in front of the sink hole, everyone gets out, and then we cross this janky ol' half-assed rope bridge they built over the water. It's hard because people are in a rush so they scramble across the ropes and shake the whole damn thing around causing people to drop their coffees and briefcases. Yesterday this old woman fell right in the water and just sank straight down to the bottom, nothing but bubbles coming up afterward. One of the MBTA guys threw his cigarette butt in the hole and said, "shoulda taken the bus lady."

Full Story:
http://www.universalhub.com/2010/sinkhole-ate-green-line

Mandolin

My mandolin is dead forever. How will I sing my sorrow? Only the somber chirp of a such an instrument could express my bereft heart, but without it, how can I? What kinda of infinite vortex of despondency have I found myself in?

GO MEAT!!!

Watch:

This is easily on of the most disturbing and hellish commercials I have ever seen. There are a total of 6 of these made for the super bowl. The slogan can be seen in other commercials as well, including one with a group of children sitting around a table making bologna masks by taking bites out of the folded slices. They don their creations, grab fist fulls of sausage, run outside, kick a dog and then jump into the air screaming "GO MEAT!" The End.

The most horrifying aspect of this? How attractive all of these commercials are. How catchy, memorable, delightful and funny they are so the images stick in your head like cheese to a greasy beef patty slapped upon the grille. They are SO good that people, actually entire families -- mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters -- have been reproducing these commercials on YouTube. For Fun!

This one has some nice Christian undertones to it:

3 teenage girls all dressed in white sitting on a golf course singing a song about meat? God bless us all!

Anyway, all I have to say is...

GO MEAT!

GO MEAT!!

GO MEAT!!!

GO MEAT!!!!

The following is a letter to the persons I share a band rehersal space with...

Dear Friends of The Practice Space,

I am writing to urgently relay to you a warning to not drink from the bottle of Jack Daniels I left in the practice space with a note attached reading, "FREE WHISKEY! DRINK UP! (Lost the cap!)"

This bottle is full of pestilence. I regret not informing you sooner, but I am just recovering from an illness caused by drinking this vile alcohol. I have struggled hard and saved my strength to be able to type this email and send word of that wretched, infected bottle.

You see, on Monday Matt and I decided to share a pint of whiskey and thus ventured to Davis square in order to acquire one. Upon exiting the store I slipped on a patch of wet ground and in my bumbling grasp for balance let loose our mid-day treat from my hand. It twirled and spun in the air like a boozed up husky whore from The Other Side strip club located in Fitchburg, MA and landed square on it's head in the middle of a puddle! The cap cracked open and spilt forth whiskey into the streets, a hobo's dream indeed! -- but our nightmare. Quickly I snatched the bottle from the ground and managed to recover half of its contents. I hid it in my jacket pocket and returned to the space.

With my Les Paul slung over my shoulder I gulped from the bottle and pretended I was the man I look up to most, Jimmy Paige. However I noticed something a bit wrong with the flavor of me and my idol's favorite drink. It tasted somewhat of puddle water. Matt took a sip and agreed, but said not to worry since the alcohol would most likely kill any germs within. Upon leaving I decided I did not want to tote around a whiskey bottle with a broken cap so i decided to leave it for the next band to enjoy. I only wish I had thrown it away instead...

Without going in to too much detail I will say that after returning home from drinking the puddle whiskey both Matt and I became horribly ill. For the past two days I have experienced incontinence and vomiting and Matt has suffered a cold and swollen throat. There is still some contention as to whether or not the puddle whiskey was the cause of sickness, and be it coincidence or not, the bottle is a dark portent and has touched both of our cursed lips.

Please, if JJ Puff n' Stuff and The Lost Boys (or whatever that other band we share the place with is called) hasn't already imbibed the inimical concotion, I implore you to dispose of it as you see fit. I would suggest throwing it out into the sunlight as it will most surely turn into a serpent which will then slither down the nearest bildge pipe into the sewers from whence it came.

My deepest apologies,

-Anthony Vecchi

Hot Chowda?

If you haven't already, please listen to the first 5 seconds of this song:



To the uneducated undergrad ear the first line of the song could very easily sound like, "In December / Drinking hot chowder" especially if you're driving around the greater Boston area on a cold January morning with an empty stomach, much like I was when I first heard this delightful tune. Now, I know that in the world of misheard lyrics there are numerous far stretching accusations that don't quite make sense when a purportedly "misheard" line is perfectly intelligible, but I think in this instance I am completely justified in misconstruing an already abstruse lyric.

Horchata? How am I, the benighted day dwelling layman who can barely ask for a vanilla chai at Dunkin Donuts, supposed to know of a traditional Latin American beverage made from exotic spices I've never tasted? Nope! Sounds like HOT CHOWDA to me! And so, when driving to get a bagel with my girlfriend this morning I was quite confused as to why someone would want to drink their hot chowder instead of eat it with a spoon like a normal person.

Of course I couldn't just leave the subject alone and had to incessantly repeat my sentiments of confused disgust while my lady and I were waiting for bagels. "Hot chowder? Drinking hot chowder? What? Thats disgusting!" and so forth. Much to my lady's chagrin this revolving image of a man drinking chowder was starting to make her sick and even the woman behind the counter stifled a nauseas burp or two. Slurping hot chowder? Fine. Maybe even sipping it... but drinking it? Chugging it? The thought of the *glug* glug* *gurp* *gurp* sounds eminating from the throat of Vampire Weekend's lead singer as he takes down a hot cup o' chowder on a cold morning in December, throat muscles convulsing and straining to swallow creamy hot chunks of clam, white goop dribbling down the sides of his slightly stubbly cheeks. It starts dripping on to his ascot and then... well... uh... I suppose thats not what he actually meant in the first place because if you read the lyrics you'll discover the song takes place on the beach with crabs snipping at your sandals as you moon over some long lost tool shed.

You know what? I don't think I'll ever try horchata because of this song. I think Vampire Weekend should keep their lyrics simple and sing about tractors, love, and beer. If they want us to try horchata then at the end of the song they can add, "and yea, horchata is a pretty good drink from South America that you might want to try" instead of having to sing it with all the lyrical inflections and stylized syllabic adornments that do nothing more but confuse me, your regular every day chowder-minded Joe.

Growing Up

I can't wear a jacket with my suit because my jacket crushes my suit. My boss asks me every day, "no jacket?" and I say, "sir, my jacket crushes my suit."

College Prep

If I was going to teach a college prep course, on the first day I would call one student to the front of the class, hold up a giant hoop, and have him jump through. When he got to the other side I would ask him to jump back, repeating this request over and over until he became out of breath. I would then give my congratulations and ask if he would like to attend grad school -- a flaming hoop hanging over a tank of piranhas.

Trip Report: Iced Gingerbread Clif Bar

Dosage: 1 Bar | 64 grams | Eaten over 5 minutes

I have to admit that even before I started writing this report I have eaten about half the bar already. So the results may be a little skewed.

Come and join me on a flavor-expedition!

+0:00:00 Being a hypochondriac, I have to ensure that my Clif Bar is opened in a way that creates a little "Clif Cradle." This allows me to place breakfast down on my workspace without having it touch the highly lysol'ed surface which is no doubt seething with germs left by the cleaners.

+0:00:15 This "health" bar has a frosting droozled* all over it! Yunk!

+0:00:30 Every Clif Bar has a foundation flavor that seats any of the various hues of taste such as the much abhorred "Chocolate Mint" to the mellifluous "Toffee Nut Crunch." With the first bite I experience an underwhelming taste of gingerbread and more of the standard oatey, sugary Clif Bar base.

+0:00:36 After chewing a bit more the taste of gingerbread seeps in and covers my tongue with a warming glow of familiarity. Despite the frosting, this Clif Bar has a mild taste to it.

+0:01:30 I feel a little sick now. Should anyone be tasting gingerbread this early in the morning? I don't think so. Not unless they're waking up at 4am on Christmas Eve to snap off a piece of gingerbread house.

+0:02:21 Well... that was a tepid affair. It was basically your standard Clif experience. I am satisfied.

+0:03:07 My thigh itches.

+0:05:44 I am hungry again.

*1 Droozle = A variant of "drizzle" except used in instances of extreme sloppiness and over abundance. E.g. "Damn! Why do they always droozle so much cream cheese on my bagel bites! I almost yunked* in the toilet!"

*2 Yunk = Vomit, except while crying. E.g. "I yunked when that skunk sprayed my little sister and then she gave me a hug."

I perfectly understand the pun of "Heel The Love" yet taken outside its canine context, the phrase seems a bit awkward. The verb "heel" has manifold usage but commonly means to follow or chase closely, or to have under subjugation. It can also mean to put the heels on something, as in a shoe, or even to arm a fighting cock with spurs! I do not think the movie's producers were aware of the astounding depth of the word "heel" when pinning it to their film about a Christmas pup that pisses in Ownen Wilson's hamper or whatever.

Now, whenever I see the tag line "Heel The Love" I will think it means either of 4 things:

1. "Chase after love like a silly puppy with a ribbon tied around your neck!"
2. "Control the love! It's an unruly bitch who needs to be properly beaten every night and left outside! DOWN GIRL! DOWN! HEEL!"
3. "Love is getting a little worn out and needs new heels. Are you a cobbler?"
4. "You want me to attach this metal spur to the tip of my "love" and then fight another similarly clad man in a pit while lecherous old men bet on our lives? On Christmas day? Wait... with my Papa!?"

I believe the movie industry needs to have an English Major check all of their movie posters, trailers, and other promotional media for connotation errata. Otherwise, we might just have a little cockfighting problem.

Family Vacation

Mother: Guess what today is my little coconut?
Daughter: (Groggy) Wha… what?
Mother: Comon’ sleepy head, today’s the day of our carnival cruise! Just you and me! (The mother holds up two tickets)
Daughter: (Jumping out of bed instantly) YEAAAA!

Screen Wipe Effect: A twinkle from the girl's eye explodes over the screen, transitioning the scene.

Docks. We see the mother and daughter walking away from a car. Both are wearing brightly colored dresses and holding suitcases. The mother wears a large hat with a gaudy assortment of flowers on it. The daughter is all smiles. They prance across a busy dock with many other travelers coming and going.

Daughter: Oh mama! I’m so excited! To finally leave the island and see something new!
Mother: Yes, your time has come. (Her smile is gone now.)
Daughter: What?

Two menacing sailors appear from behind a crate and grab the daughter, dragging her onto a smaller ship that looks very rusty and dangerous.

Daughter: MAMA? MAMA! WHATS HAPPENING? MAMA?
Mother: Goodbye my tiny coconut shell. I will see you again somday.
Daughter: (Tears in her eyes. She is shaking) MOOMMAAAA!!!

iCapitalization

Capitalization has been smacked around like Brett Hart being pounded in the head with a folding chair by The Undertaker. (Note: And no! I will not excuse myself for referencing the golden age of WWF! Just as Keats wrote an ode to his Grecian Urn, thus shall I sing the song of greased up men engaged in feigned fisticuffs whilst wrapped tightly in spandex pants of dazzling colours and adorned with various trinkets like a live snake or boot tassels. God bless you Tatonka.)

But I digress.

Capitalization has been kicked in the shins by a single, lower-case, little dipshit -- the "i". Everything in the last 5 years has been presupposed by the impetuous, importuning, piquant, pebble-sized "i". No longer are great names like Spartacus, or titles such as The Illiad valid because no one will pay attention unless its iCeasar or iZeus. Titles aren't even bolstered by numbers anymore, such as 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, 2001: A Space Odyssey, or even 101 Dalmatians.

Geez... 101 Dalmatians sounds more imposing than an ipod nano frosted mini-wheats or whatever.

It used to be that putting something in Capitol Letters would infuse it with the power of Yahweh himself! NOW YOU CAN WRITE IN ALL CAPS AND NO ONE WILL CARE TO READ THEM EVEN AS THE WORDS SURGE INTO THE SKY ABOVE LIKE THE TOWER OF BABEL!

so just whip out your iBook and read Harry Potter and The Mystery of the Shrunken Cat...

i’s and e’s are the future of our language and there is absolutely no stopping any obtuse mind from pinning their statements with those kitschy trinkets.

Tom Brady

Everyone,

I notice that we are constantly referring to Tom Brady (or THE PATRIOT MISSILE, as I prefer to call him) in such a mocking (and sometimes romantic) manner that we forget the utilitarian aspect of dropping his name around the office. I doubt any of us have any sincere feelings for Mr. Brady (or Old' Gimpy, as I will now call him) but we can certainly use our obtained knowledge of this athlete to boost our professional standing with fellow office workers, and especially the management.

Here are some examples:

Boss: Tony, will you please update this and do that and spend the next 3 hours performing skull-scrapingly-dull busy work for me?

Me: Sure thing Boss! I'd love to! Did you see the reports I've already prepared on the new project scheduled to begin next month?

Boss: Are you still talking to me? I think I left my BT on.

See? In this scenario I failed to mention Touch Down Brady Balls, and thus immediately lost the attention and respect of my Boss. Let's try that again...

Boss: Tony, will you please highlight and then unhighlight every name in my address book just to make sure that doing that doesn't actually do anything? Then can you spell check all the icon's on my desktop?

Tony: Anything you say sir! I'll get right to it... just after I'm done praying for Tom Brady's knee. Did you see the 1,000 paper cranes I made for him?

Boss: Promotion!

Bringing up professional sports teams such as The Red Sox, Patriots, or any of the great exploits of Scotty Pippin will instantly excite anyone within a 20ft radius of your cubicle, earning you the respect and adulation of your colleagues! Give it a try and see for yourself!