Mitch

12:55 pm: Law School
Law Schools accepted to:
University of Florida
Florida State University
University of Miami
Stetson University
University of Maryland
University of Pittsburgh

11:42 pm: Like the Phoenix, We Rise Again!
Beep... beep... beep... beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Yep, that was the sound of my livejournal flat-lining. Four months of neglection will do that to just about anything. No wait, my journal exists in cyber space. The natural laws of mother nature don't apply in the world of 1's and 0's! The bits of data that make up my rants and musings have persevered despite my couch potato efforts. My LJ is immortal!!

That beings said, I thought I would give this site a swift kick in the pants and back on its feet. LSATs sucked, plain and simple. Now that I got that King Kong of a burden off my back I don't really feel like getting into it.

So now I'll move on to more exciting things, are you on the edge of your seat yet? I didn't think so. Here's a typical summer day for me, p.l. (post LSATs), as I like to call it: Tutor the athletes in the morning, basketball in the afternoon, and then space out for 8 hours til I go to bed. I warned you it was exciting.

As you can see from my dynamic daily schedule, there just isn't really a whole lot for me to write about these days. So check back every now and then for a tastely morsel, but don't hold your breath.

03:49 pm: I love This Game.
I know I've been neglecting this lj like a deadbeat dad but other things have been taking priority right now. If this journal were to physically manifest itself it would definitely take on that oh so sexy heroine chic look. A combination of my Kaplan LSAT class, the crack-like addiction that is March Madness, and a recent aversion for anything scholastic (ie reading and writing) that isn't required for me to graduate have all contributed to the rather anorexic amount of posts lately.

However the NCAA tournament games this past weekend have rekindled my literary fancy and imbued me with the need to express my sheer love for the game of basketball. Saturday and Sunday had four games. And among those four games were two overtimes, a double overtime, an improbable buzzer-beater, miraculous comebacks, and a home town player earning a spot on college basketball's biggest stage: the final four. These games had all the makings of instant classics. I would not have been surprised if as soon as each game ended I could switch over to ESPN Classic and watch it all over again from the opening tip.

First there was Louisville vs. West Virginia. Louisville came all the way back from 20 points down to force overtime and win the game despite their best player fouling out and their other star limping up and down the court thus giving Rick Pitino another trip back to the Final Four. Next came Illinois vs. Arizona and the Fighting Illini orchestrated one of the most amazing comebacks in tournament history. Down 15 with only 3 minutes to play, Illinois fought back to force overtime where they would win by 1 point. Hands down one of the best games I have ever watched.

The next day, Sunday, gave me UNC with a hard fought victory over Wisconsin. No OT here, or comebacks, but what it did provide was hometown product Jackie Manuel from Cardinal Newman HS a trip to the final four. And finally Sunday night had Kentucky vs Michigan State that went to double overtime thanks to an incredible last second 3 point shot by Kentuck's Patrick Sparks that bounced around the rim several times before dropping in through the net.

The only thing that could have made this past weekend more dramatic and electrifying was if my Gators could have ridden the momentum of the SEC tournament all the way to St. Louis. But despite the fact they did not, the Elite 8 games just added fuel to the fire that is my sick obsession with basketball.

09:25 pm: Life of Brian
Brian finally decided to start his blog back up. Go check it out HERE for some nerdy insights and musings.

04:18 pm: World Drunken Wrestling Federation
I would have put a post up sooner but my schedule was filled with physcial therapy rehab, daily doses of horse steroids, and a hearty helping of whey protein to get my body functioning properly after the carnage that was New Years. Thank God I can finally kiss that colostomy bag good bye. Now at some point during the weeks leading up to Dec 31st, a drunken conversation took place and it spawned the idea of having wrestling matches at our apartment to "ring" in the new year. In theory is sounded entertaining, but would we actually be able to pull it off? Would we be able to coordinate, organize, and raise the funds to put on such a show?

Like Vince McMahon himself, Neil took charge and nurtured this beast to fruition by getting enough people to thrown down money and Jon to take the brunt (read: all) of the work load. Nine old car tires, some plywood, four wood posts, rope, and a tarp later, we had ourselves a wrastlin' ring in our backyard. We even stress tested it with a keg and about 10 people piled into it and it passed with flying colors. Since Neil knows a little more about this new Internets deal than I do, he's hosting pictures as well as video over at his site for all your viewing pleasure. But the video will only be up for a limited time, so don't wait CLICK!

While most matches lasted about 5-10 minutes, mine went to more along the lines of 15-20 minutes. I guess when you're drunk and getting your head handed to you you kind of lose track of time, space, and your own personal pain threshold. Now the matches were all preplanned and no one was intentionally trying to hurt one another but I ended up taking some serious bumps. My opponent Dr. Cube took sadism to new levels as he dealt out shoulder tosses, body slams, and utilized medieval torture techniques on my alcohol-numbed body. As you'll see in the video I end up getting DQ'd for nailing Dr. Cube with a garbage can lid but it was all I could do to put a stop to my suffering.

The whole night was too hilarious for words. The costumes, music, the beer, and more beer kept the comedy through the roof. Until of coarse the next morning. Now a hangover is usually enough hurt to deal with but combine that with the fact that once the alcohol wore off all the pain I should have suffered the night before caught up with me and every bone and joint in my body were in pain. Despite my body hanging on by a thread, it was the best New Years ever. Now you might be thinking to yourself, "Hey Mitch, you should do that next year so I can come!" I think I can speak for everyone else by saying, in a word, no. Like Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel, it was a one-shot, once-in-a-lifetime event.

09:01 pm: Well I was going to write an entry chronicling the events of my holiday break but after reading Neil's blog and his brother's , it makes my holiday gatherings about as boring as... well... just about every other family get-together on earth.

So I will just acquiesce to the unbridled celebration of the "Hughes Family Circus" and take solace in the fact that I'm not alone when it comes to sucky family gatherings.

06:29 pm: Naaa Na-Na Na-Na Go Gators!
Nothing like delicious delicious victory followed by a helping of sweet redemption to cap off an up and down season. After last year's debacle thanks to the refs, going into the newly christened "Bobby Bowden Field at Doak Campbell Stadium" and shutting up all those obnoxious FSU fans helped close the wounds left open from the victory that was ripped from our grasp last year.

What made the victory all the more satisfying was the dichotomy of the two head coaches' careers. In the past it had always been a clash of the titans, Spurrier vs. Bowden, with Bowden coming out on top everytime on his home field. This time around it was the Zooker, already fired from his job and under constant scrutiny from Gator Nation, up against the winningest coach in Division 1A history on the night he gets a field named after him. The result? A convincing win orchestrated by Zook and his players, Zook being carried off the field like a champion, all of us Gator faithful proudly cheering "Zook! Zook! Zook!", and Bobby Bowden sulking away in defeat on a night that was supposed to be his. Ahhhh, aint life grand?

For me personally it was one of the best nights of my life. Going to Tallahassee, right into the heart of enemy territory, and dealing with all the trash talking, dirty looks, middle fingers, cockiness, and arrogance of FSU fans only to own the stadium the entire night as we cheered and chanted along with the band was a feeling no description could do justice; you just had to be there to understand. All the heartache Zook put me through I can forgive and forget now because he delivered the one win I wanted so badly, at Doak. I know that might make me sound fickle, but that win meant so much to me and everyone who has orange and blue pumping through their veins that it eclipsed all of Zook's past blunders.

I know Zook's time at UF was up, but it was so good to see him go out in a blaze of glory. Whatever school ends up hiring him is going to get one helluva coach and I wish him nothing but the best. Thanks for the amazing memories Coach Zook.

02:23 am: Rome Needs to Burn.
Jim Rome has yet again hit a nerve. On his show "Rome is Burning" which airs on ESPN, Rome attacked Duke University head coach and college basketball icon Mike Krzyzewski. He criticized Krzyzewski for passing on the L.A. Lakers head coaching job by staying with the Dukies who are only predicted to finish 4th in the ACC; his argument being that it's better to finish 8th in the West, than to finish 4th in the ACC.

Now I'm not saying Rome was wrong for second guessing Krzyzewski, in fact it's his job as a journalist. What was wrong was the manner in which he did it. He intentionally mispronounced Krzyzewski's name everytime it came up during his rant in a pathetic attempt at undermining all the credibility and respect Coach K has garnered over his illustious career.

Hey Rome, why don't you dance on Adolph Rupp's grave, slap John Wooden in the face, and take a shit on Dean Smith's door step while you're at it? Here we have a coach who has single handedly built Duke University into arguably the best college basketball program in the country, won 3 national championships, countless ACC championships, and stands for everything that is good in college athletics. Go ahead and argue his choice all you want Jim, but don't belittle his name. Be professional. I don't know if the rest of the sports world noticed this or even cared, but here was another instance of Jim Rome being a jerk for the sake of ratings.

02:17 am: To the 9th Circle and Back!
Well the Deftones show never happened thanks to Neil's queen mother of all ingrown toe nails. I'll spare you all the graphic details. Instead just think of a hammer, a toe, and a lack of common sense and that pretty much is the gist of it. For all you twisted shits, feel free to IM me for a shot of that abomination.

I did manage to trek down to Otown for Matt's 21st birthday. I'll admit that I was a little skeptical about the whole 'cowboys and indians' theme and at times questioned my manhood while playing dress-up but it turned out way more fun than I imagined. Either that or the alcohol made it so. Being an American, I decided to be a cowboy but paled in comparison to the get ups Matt and Robert had. On the scale of manly cowboyness they were up there with the likes of Clint Eastwood and the Duke while I pandered down at the bottom barely maintaining male credibility. (Again, IM me for pics)

Everything was going swell until my eyes met with a savage Indian from across the living room going by the name "Paul". Manifest destiny and all, I was compelled to convert him to White America by the only means possible: a drunken slap contest. Each bareing our flesh we engaged in a contest of might to see who could land the harshest slap on the other's chest. It was a brutal engagement and both parties staggered off with battle wounds that they would regret the next day.

At some point in the night I passed out on the couch. Things were pretty fuzzy the next morning. While slammed in the hurt locker I was roused from my haze by what I thought was some playful poking courtesy of Kimber. Turns out she was attempting to write "Go Noles" on my back in indelible ink. But she was still feeling the effects of the previous night and despite her best intentions managed to butcher it into something that resembled "Go Noses".

So now I'm severely hung over, I have "Go Noses" written on my back, and now everyone wants to go to Panera Bread. Where is Grandy's when you need it? Of all the places to choose from in Orlando, they pick the one place that personifies the suburbian Hell Orlando is notorious for. After a hearty turkey, smoked gouda, and bacon sandwich on tomato basil bread with a bag of gourmet potato chips it was time to extract myself from the ninth cicle and leave fantastic plastic suburbia. Destination? My return to Backwoods Hick Town, U.S.A. aka Gainesville.

Despite all my bitching about how much Orlando sucks, I had a blast there with old friends. Oh and let's not forget 80s music!!

09:22 pm: I'm still alive.
I know I have gotten lazy with these posts but school has been taking precedence over you jerks. But I figure I'll take this opportunity to walk away from studying for my finance exam to update you all on my otherwise dynamic life. Let's see, the present value of an annuity is... no! No Mitch! Now is not the time! You're here to entertain and imbue your readers with thought provoking insights, please spare them the terror that is Professor Craig Tapley's finance exam.
Well we managed to survive the onslaught of hurricanes here at Studio 154, albeit barely. There's nothing like sleeping in a pool of your own sweat to make you appreciate the simple luxury of a ceiling fan. All-in-all we were without power for about 3-4 days thanks to Frances and Jeanne. But the beautiful part was that Mother Nature decided to play a cruel prank on us and knock out our power right at the same time as we got our HDTV and digital cable set up. Thereby leaving us to drink beer by candle light as we stared into the empty abyss of our HD monitor, thinking of what could have been. For a peek at our setup go to Neil's page, http://plaza.ufl.edu/njh/blogger.html, and scroll down to take a gander. (take the time to read some of his posts too)
School-wise, if you couldn't already tell, business finance is a thorn in my rectum. But it's what I chose to major in so I better quit my bitchin' and suck it up! Everything else pretty much takes a back seat to finance since I have to get a B or higher in order to get my diploma. Pretty crazy to think I'm over half-way done with college already. Real world here I come! (there's a scary thought)
This coming week should be great. We're going to drive down to Orlando for the Deftones show at HOB. Then I'm staying in town for Matty boy's 21st. Like Dante, I'll journey through the suburban Hell of Orlando then come back here to regale you with tales of my endeavours.

02:10 pm: Losers
OK, so it's official... neither me nor my roommies are ever getting laid.

To go along with the widescreen HDTV monitor Brian picked up a few weeks ago, yesterday we got digital cable. Put that together with a PS2, Xbox, Gamecube, and just about every other console since Ninentendo and a 5.1 Dolby Digital surround sound system and we have enough boner-inducing technology that vagina is just an after thought.

The digital cable not only provides us with quality digital programming like NBATV, G4TechTV, ESPN Classic, ESPN News, and about 8 different HBOs, it also gives us the Holy Grail of television viewing... high definition television. Yes that's right, we get ESPN HD, HBO HD, Discovery HD, and more.

All this leaves us little reason to tear ourselves off our couch in search of such necessities as social contact. Why go to parties and try to meet ladies when we can just sit back and enjoy high definition boobies.

So for all you reading this, if you ever need to find me you know where to look. I'll be on the couch.

07:57 pm: Update
It's been a while since my last post, and even though none of my friends read this garbage I just thought I'd put an update out there in cyberspace for all you lurkers. Enjoy.

The reason for my absence is because I've moved back up to Gainesville and into my own apartment. Here's what I've been doing with myself:

Location: Gainesville, FL

Employment: Quit my job at JJ Muggs, just going to leech off the 'rents

TV: Nip/Tuck; Aqua Teen Hunger Force; the pending football season

Movies: dying to see "Hero"

DVDs: Predator; Trainspotting

Videogames: ESPN NFL 2k5; Star Ocean: Til the End of Time

Music: Stuck Mojo Declaration of a Headhunter; Guttermouth Eat Your Face; Bjork Medulla; Nightwish Once

Books: Fundamentals of Financial Mangament

School: Back at UF taking 4 classes for 14 credits

01:22 pm: Dissapointment
To quote a previous entry, "USA owns Puerto Rico, Bitch!" I would now like to retract that statement after watching the men's Olympic basketball team get their heads handed to them by Puerto Rico yesterday.

It was the first ever Olympic loss since NBA players first participated in 1992. 92-73. That was the final score. And it was worse than that at some points in the game. Here we have a USA team loaded with MVPs,all-stars, and players with more athleticsm and talent in them than all other teams combined going up against little Puerto Rico with maybe one professional player on its roster.

But this isn't the NBA; it's the international game, and that's the problem. There is a big difference. The NBA has become an "above the rim" game with focus on one-on-one match-ups and man-to-man defense. A player can rely on raw abilities like running and jumping and still find success without grasping a true understanding of the game. Besides the lure of millions, that's why so many players make the jump from high school straight to the pros. Many of these players can't grasp fundamental English, let alone fundamental basketball. Gone are the fundamental wizards like Magic, Bird, and Stockton who completely dominated the '92 games.

And that's what international basketball is: fundamental. More emphasis is placed on dribbling, passing, and shooting... something none of the USA players excel at. It's a more team oriented game on both the offensive and defensive ends of the court. Zone defense takes precedence over man-to-man, especially since most players can't match up with the physically superior American players. You can't beat a zone defense with two passes and "taking it to the hole." It's about ball movement, moving without the basketball, and making the open shot. Intangibles that God-given talent can't provide.

A layup is just as good as a slam dunk. Taking the charge is better than blocking the shot because it's a turnover. And the 15-foot jumpshot has become a lost art among American players. USA went 3 for 24 from beyond the arc. That's a haneous 12.5% and the international 3-point line is closer than the NBA's! This isn't pansy-ass figure skating where results are subjective based on how pretty you look. If it was, LeBron James and Allen Iverson would win by default. This is basketball; where ugly motherfuckers like Charles Barkley and Bill Lambier go out to smash heads and win games. Team USA needs to grow a pair and start crushing some skulls instead of worrying about looking good for the camera.

07:45 pm: Check This Out
Here is an interesting link I found of Fark about why soccer will never catch on in the United States. Keep in mind that "football" refers to soccer while football is "American football."

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/osm/story/0,6903,1270849,00.html

11:21 pm: "Some People Just Shouldn't Drink." - Reverend Hughes
After a long day there's nothing like a big tall glass of ugly-belligerent-drunk-bitch to cool you down.

With the conclusion of the Low Quality Party in Tampa I had to wake up early and drive home in order to make it into work on time. I hoped and prayed that I wouldn't have to close the restaurant so I could get out of there as early as possible. Seeing as I'm at the top of Fate's shit list as of late of coarse I'm scheduled to work the bar until close. Outstanding.

Six hours I worked during which I only got 5 tables. Five lousy tables. And at $2.13 an hour that came out to approximatley $dog shit. No one came in; the place was comatose. I was tired, recooperating from the previous days' festivities, and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. But since I worked the bar I wasn't allowed to leave until 10pm regardless.

The last table I had were these two old ladies. They came in and started ordering shots of whiskey... Bushmills Irish whiskey; some high quality shit that will fuck you up. One of the ladies looked me dead in the eye and said if I ever see their glasses empty I better fill them right up. She was dead serious too and I could tell that she had a screw or two loose. Keep in mind that I do have other tables to attend to. That being said, I was making sundays and my manager came up and said some crazy bitch keeps asking for me and I better check on her. When I got there she grabbed me by the shirt and asked where was I. I explained how I had other tables and tried to ignore her attitude. They ordered some burgers and more whiskey and things seemed to be cooling down.

Then the psycho bitch spilled her club soda everywhere and it all went down hill. She started giving me attitude and getting mad at me because she spilled her own drink. Despite it all I kept a positive attitude and tried to clean it up as best I could, I was even down on my hands and knees at one point. But the bitch lost her appetite and just wanted a to-go box and the check. Good riddance.

But wait. When I brought out the box and the check she asked for another shot. Alright, so I took the check back and brought her more whiskey thinking they were unfortunately going to be here longer. Right when I got back with the shot she gave me more attitude and asked, "Hey where is that check?" Coming right up! What a cunt. I rang up their check and just wanted them to get the fuck out. Then right there in the middle of the restaurant she had a mental breakdown. She started blubbering her eyes out and her friend had to come to her side of the booth to console her and calm her down.

When they finally left I went to get the Visa slip. It was a $40 tab... here's your two dollars! After all the shit I put up with while never showing a hint of anger that drunk bitch and her friend left me with a two fuckin dollar tip. And they stole my pen. I just wanted to ram my foot into her stomach.

But the story doesn't end there. The two went outside and sat on the bench so the fat bitch could wallow in her own drunken misery some more. We just stood at the hostess stand and watched. Then all of a sudden she keeled over backwards into the bushes and blacked out! Me and another waiter ran outside to see if she was okay. We had to take the concrete bench apart since she was pinned between it and the bushes in order to get her out. She couldn't even produce a coherent thought, let alone stand on her own power. So it took me and the other waiter to drag her fat carcass to the car so her friend could drive her home, all the while she was crying nonsense while tears and snot ran down her face. We finally crammed her in the car and sent her on her merry way.

After all that I was left with two dollars and one less pen. What a fantastic day.

01:07 pm: Stuart Scott
I am growing tired and weary of Stuart Scott and ESPN. I tuned in last night to watch ESPN's newest sports trivia show, "Stump the Shwaub", only to find that Scott was yet again given the nod to be host. C'mon guys, there's a bevy of talented TV personalities to choose from there in Bristol, why must it always be Scott? Is it his keen ability to incorporate hackneyed catchphrases like "booya" and "dawg" into his lingo that makes him appeal to a wider demograhpic? Or is it his loyalty to his alma mater whereby he uses ESPN as his own personal TRL to give "shout outs" to UNC and his fellow Tar Heel fans that the top brass just eats up? He already does Sportscenter and hosted "Dream Job" and works with ABC Sports, why doesn't ESPN give him a rest and put someone less annoying on my TV.

What ever happened to Kenny Mayne? He hosted the last trivia show "2 Minute Drill" and that was a great show. He was professional, funny, and kept a good pace to the show. Mayne didn't make me want to send my first through the tube to shut him up. Last I saw Kenny he was covering some po-dunk sporting event that no one in America cared about. What a waste.

I know I'm not alone in this either. All across America there are dedicated ESPN watchers like me who are sick of Stuart Scott and his lazy eye getting all the face time on ESPN. Scott peaked back in '99 and now it's just been a slow and painful slide down splintered balsa wood into TV icon pergatory.

01:26 am: Links
~Info~
Fark :: News you need to know
Gametab :: Videogames
Rotten Tomatoes :: Movie Reviews
Hoops Hype :: NBA

~Amigos~
Blog Maverick :: Mark Cuban
The Boorish Blog of Rev. Hughes :: Neil
Life of Brian :: Brian (WIP)

08:48 pm: Sense of Accomplishment
Yesterday I had one of the best feelings of accomplishments since getting an A on my Financial Accounting final (51/60, suck it!) My parents went out of town for the past few days, leaving me to fend for myself and to mind the house. So I rolled out of bed around noon for the first day of freedom since leaving Gainesville and proceeded to the bathroom to perform my ritualistic "cleansing" atop the can whilst I regained consciousness.

To complete my task I flushed only to have plans deviate from schedule. The toilet clogged. Given my diet it's no surprise that my extretions usually resemble footballs, bricks, and other objects never meant to be flushed; so a stopped up potty is a fairly common occurence in the Goldberg household. However the burden of unclogging is normally given to Mother dearest and that was where things went awry. Mom is out of town. So I thought to myself, well I won't have to go again for a while and I have to go to work, so I'll just leave it be and let science do its thing as the water slowly dissolves it.

That night after work, Allan and Eric came over and we watched the D and sipped sodas. After they left I had to go again only to have my hypothesis from earlier disproved. Alright, I said to myself, I'll give it more time, maybe an overnight marinade in the merky depths of our plumbing will do the trick. Next morning I give it a test run before I commence operations but still no progress. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I really have to go now and I don't want to use my parents bathroom because thats where my mom goes and it would just creep me out.

My instincts (see: laziness) said to wait for Mom to come home but my bowels said otherwise. Fuck this. Putting aside my instincts I marched into the garage to fetch the plunger. Now this isnt your ordinary plunger with wooden handle with red rubber suction cup because this blockage would just smile and laugh at such a rudimentary tool. This plunger is made up of a space age plastic and is capped off not by a mere suction cup but an accordian-looking suction apparatus thereby putting the power of 100 plungers in my hands. A few churning motions and courtesy flushes and the toilet was back in top form. Watching the water eddy and disappear in a smooth fashion sent a feeling of supreme accomplishment throughout my body. People always say that it's the little things in life that counts and having a fully functioning toilet is proof enough. And then it reminded my body that I had to go. From here the story goes on to tell about a raging inferno no more than a mile of my house but that's a story for another day.

08:15 pm: Life Update
Location: Royal Palm Beach, FL

Appearance: The Trifecta (pale, flabby, and lazy)

Employment: Promoted to expo and server and JJ Muggs

TV: Nip/Tuck

Movies: Spiderman 2

DVDs: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly; Tenacious D: The Complete Masterworks

Videogames: Chrono Trigger

Music: Iced Earth The Glorious Burden, Ozomatli Street Signs, Van Halen 1984, Faith No More Angel Dust

Books: Bill Clinton My Life

School: No summer courses; Kaplan LSAT test prep book

Ladies: your mom

05:00 pm: MTV
For all the shallow, superficial shows MTV airs such as Room Raiders and Tail Daters (which I eat up like an Etheopian at a buffet) the network has lowered the bar to otherwise unimagineable level. As part of their summer line up, MTV has been airing it's newest creation, Your Face Or Mine in which contestants are presented with thought provoking questions stretching the bounds of their mental capacities where contestants must decide whether the audience finds him or herself more attractive than a random attractive person he or she is pitted against.

All I have to say about this idea is, "Wow." MTV must really be strapped for ideas. Looks like MTV's pool of teen stereotypes to exploit has finally dried up. I guess the execs have resorted to bringing in their 13-year-old daughters to cipher out some fresh ideas from their mindless slumber party fodder.

Watching this show just left me dumbfounded that people find entertainment value in guessing who is the more attractive person. Not only that, but MTV put time and money into developing a half-hour show based around this idea is even more baffeling. This show does not bring any substance or benefit to society what so ever. All is does is add to the decline humanity as we know it. The Apocalypse is upon us! Repent now!