Ladies and Gentlemen, the day of reckoning is upon us. I am about to embark on the most exciting, nerve-wracking and holy-shit-I’m-really-going-to-do-this moment of my life:
I reckon this is what Christmas morning was like when I was 6 years old. Only its going to be way more awesome than any Masters of the Universe Castle Grayskull Playset.
Or that first time I had sex.
And all of those other times when the blood rushed through my veins in the most euphoric eustress-y kind of way: scoring a big goal, crushing a home run, hooking up with a hot chick that clearly doesn’t know she’s out of my league, when the Phillies won it all in 2008, seeing England play at Wembley, listening to Andrea Bocelli before playing a game at Heartbreak Ridge (Por ti Volare… believe it… that was my pump up music)
Actually — this was my warm-up arsenal:
[after listening to that if you aren’t inspired and ready to run through a goddamn brick wall, you have a problem. This kid didn’t need Metallica… give me a blistering horn section, national pride, a stadium chorus in full voice and then end on Bocelli’s power… and yeah — I’m in the mood. And when I’m in the mood, you are going to get you ass handed to you all over the field. And I was ALWAYS in the mood.]
Don’t you wish you could make love again to the first person you ever made love to? Just to show them how much better you are at it now? That’d be neat
Regardless, in the words of the chick that got naked in the horrible movie, had sex with the black dude and loves Vur-sayss: “I’M SO EXCITED! I’M SO EXCITEEEEED! I’m so… scared.”
Not really, but if I may steal the musings of one, Eric Cartman, “Dude, that is tits. That is big fat Oprah tits right there.”
And yes, it is. It’s going to piss all over your existence for the next month. Sucks to be you, awesome to be me. Who knows what is in store for me, and good, bad or indifferent — you’ll be sure to hear all about it. I just hope that you take all of what is about to come your way with a heaping grain of salt. And the complete understanding that:
1. I am a nice guy
2. I don’t live life by asking for your permission — rather I request your forgiveness.
3. Any transgressions or trespasses that I embark on are solely because I can (I don’t have kids, a wife, a girlfriend, or a job… and upon my return that has to be taken care of in reverse order). So should you know of a job opening — let me know ASAP. Good looking out, as the brothas say.
4. What happens in Europe should not be held against me — unless I reenact the scene from Joe Dirt (2001) with some locals.
So don’t judge me for what I do. Just by the fact that I am opening this experience to all of you should show that I am not afraid — or ashamed — of what I do/am about to do/did. Will you agree with everything that goes on? Probably not. Might you be offended? Probably so. Perhaps your perception of me as a person will change completely. And maybe it will not be for the good. But you have to understand, I’m doing this for three reasons:
1. to entertain the people that want to be entertained
2. to educate the people that want to be educated about places that they may not know
… and, most importantly…
3. because it’s my life and I do/say/act like I want
So don’t judge me. In fact, just having the courage to put myself out there should warrant your respect. I’m putting my nuts on the table… in a jury of my peers… and anticipating a whole lot of neutering. But don’t do so in private: make your comments known — good, bad, indifferent. You have the forum on here… or you can message me.
Soundtrack of the Moment: Rudy Theme
It should be noted that you will not be able to contact me by any means connected to my phone. Sure, you can call, leave voicemails, text, whatever you normally do or don’t do… just realize that you won’t be answered until late October (at the earliest). Why? I have a dumbphone. It’s not capable of doing anything smart, so naturally, I’m not bringing my cell phone with me. Just going to wait out the iPhone 5 Christmas haul.
Prior to October 24, 2011, though, you will be able to contact me in one of four ways: Facebook, Twitter, Email, Skype, and through the comments on these pages.
I’m not giving out my facebook on here but if you have it and see me online — message me… however with the time difference, I doubt I’ll be online when you are online. If you want it — email me at the address below.
You can follow me @asearle2 — send messages, etc. — tell your friends to follow me
[all posts from this blog show up on my facebook/twitter pages automatically]
It’ll be email@example.com but I have big spam blockers on it — so use a subject line that has your name in it — otherwise i’ll just spam it like my Nigerian friends that have my inheritance.
My skype name is stuckinthesouth (since I made it when I was at the University of Tebow)… this is the best chance for anybody to actually talk to me. I promised my mom that I’d stay in contact — so here’s the way to do it. Just add me.
So there you have it… I’m off. I’ll update/blog/say hello when I’m situated over on the other side. Tonight/tomorrow will be a brutal stretch (Newark to London, stop over, London to Prague). I’ll update at Heathrow if I can, but you’ll all be asleep. If I can’t, then you’ll get the update right before I crash out in my apartment (provided, of course, that there is internet).
I just hope that 25 years from now, I don’t finally realize that the “best thing ever” was really just a big gayfest that I didn’t notice at the time. Yaaay, Princeth Adam!
And hopefully it lasts longer than 14 minutes and 9 seconds…