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<title>SagaByte / yankeefan / All</title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com</link>
<description>SagaByte rss feeds</description>
<pubDate>Thu, 08 May 2008 23:50:30 -0400</pubDate>
<language>en</language>
<item>
<title><![CDATA[XXX Club]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/xxx-club/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/xxx-club/</comments>
<pubDate>Thu, 08 May 2008 23:50:30 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/xxx-club/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I don't know why, but a majority of the action in my life occurred during the years I was seventeen. Perhaps we try to get away with a lot before we are legally adults, that this long year of waiting forces us to take part in the craziest of schemes. Attempting to buy alcohol, cigarettes, experiment with narcotics, whatever it may be, we must attempt to get away with as much as possible while under the legal age. I have tried all of these with success, more than once I must admit. But the greatest accomplishment was getting into the all nude strip joint in downtown. I felt like I was on top of the world, even if it was only for a few days.The place was called Club XXXotica, an all nude juice bar on the lower end of town. The catch was there was a two drink minimum, at $5 a pop. But hell, with the ten dollar cover and dollar lap dances, it was all worth it, especially at seventeen. They had no issues letting us in because they weren't serving alcohol, so their attitude was why not Once inside, we were awestruck. Seeing beautiful young women completely nude doesn't happen much to the average high school kid. Especially ones so developed and enhanced. We soaked it all in, watching the stage so intently we didn't even notice the girl move up to the buddy sitting next to asking for a lap dance. Since we were new to this whole thing, we found out a few things with that first experience. Lap dances are cheap, don't last long enough, and feel pretty damn good when they are completely naked. My turn was next, and the woman donned in only a garter on her right thigh to hold dollar bills, mounted me as if I were a race horse, pressed my face against her sweet smelling bare breasts, and rode me for a two minute stretch. It took all I could not to get over excited. By the time she was done, the next girl was on stage. We spent the next three hours in the club, right up until the place closed for the night. Thirty bucks later, we were high on life as we ran around to locate our parking spot. This was our new found treasure, and we could not wait until we have enough to go back. Every article of clothing smelled of the combination of perfume and body lotion, and I was not complaining. The following Monday at school, we couldn't stop talking about our return visit, and that it needed to be real soon. One of the guys with us that night eventually admitted that he already returned that following night, because he just couldn't wait. After making fun of him for the next ten minutes, we ended in a jealous sigh that he had a lot more money than the rest of us. We finally made our trip back the following weekend. We had the scene down pat, too. Order the two drink minimum right up front, so they stop badgering you the rest of the night. Pick out the skanky girls while they are making their rounds for lap dances, and change seating areas right before she made her way towards us. I watched as my one friend laid on the stage as a dancer picked up the dollar bill off his face without using any hands. Another one of the guys moved around like a chess pawn as the ugliest broad of the night was chasing him for a lap dance. Our rich friend went into the back for a three-song couch dance. He claimed they did a lot more back there than just playful riding, but we will never know for sure. I sat and had the time of my life yet again. I was in a chain of women plopping on my lap at a buck a seat, watching as they did everything possible under the law, and a few other things that were questionable. I felt so important I even chipped in an extra buck for some of them. We made one more visit later that month, but it was already wearing thin. I guess it was just one of those places that never live up to the first experience. It was raided a few weeks later, and we never got another chance to relive the club experience. For what it was, it made us feel like we were living the dream of every guy in America. I know, simple thinking for someone about to be a &quot;man&quot;, but as someone sings in the radio, I'm still a guy.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[Midget Smackdown]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/midget-smackdown/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/midget-smackdown/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 04 May 2008 21:21:16 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/midget-smackdown/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Over the years, I have come to realize I am not perfect. This is one of those discoveries that get easier to deal with as we get older. Sure, we are all invincible through our teen years, and our early twenties are typically spent fighting to establish ourselves in the professional world. So it is no surprise by the time you hit thirtyish that you reflect on the times you were humbled over the years to get where we are at that moment. When I recall these little pieces of life I wish I could block out, the one that refuses to quit its existence is the time I was shrunk by a dwarf.I was dating this girl right out of graduation. We went to different schools and were each other's date to the prom our senior year. We worked together, spent as much time together the summer before college, and made the most of a long distance relationship for the semester she was away. We soon became engaged, because I had no better idea of how life should be, and planned to be married well after college. It was almost like a promise years down the road. We all know how most of these turn out, and ours was no different. Unable to bear being treated like a second class human any longer, I did what most noble men do: fell in love with another woman on the side. I mean, who needs the aggravation of a dumping, right I admit it now, I handled the entire situation poorly, and I could have spared some feelings by jumping ship way before I did, but I am only human. After a few months of clawing her way along the outskirts of my life to try and stay relevant, she finally, so I thought, accepted it and moved on. Meanwhile, in a happier life, my new girlfriend and I were having the time of our lives. Every weekend, we would make it a point to join a friend or two at the local club and hang out. We had it down to a science: drink for free in the car before going in, then buy a few drinks at the inflated prices, and the night would last forever. As an added bonus, by the time we got into the club, we were trashed and had no care in the world what was going on. The world was ours.The night in remembrance went like most others, at first. We stumbled in a little after midnight, and before we knew it, the clock was telling us it was time for a smoke break. You could still smoke inside at the time, so we strolled down to the smoker's hallway by the bathrooms. The ladies went in to powder their nose as I leaned against the payphone and lit a cigarette, when out of nowhere my ex-fianc's little 2-foot cousin was in my face, giving me the evil eye, with her manly 9-foot &quot;friend&quot; standing shotgun. I looked at them for a second, until my brain registered who they were, but before I could mutter a word, she was in my face, going off on me. &quot;How could you treat my cousin like that!&quot; &quot;You are such a worthless piece of s***!!&quot; &quot;I wish you would rot in hell!!&quot; Mind you, the berating took place in front of 50 other people that filled the hallway. I looked around, keeping a smile on my face as she continued to bark into it. I felt like I shrunk to the size of a pea, and this 2-foot midget all of a sudden was towering over me, shoving me into a corner and stomping me down to the floor. The funny part came when my girlfriend and her friend poke their head out of the bathroom door. Had the giant of a woman not been standing there blocking them off so they could not jump to my defense, they still would not have had a clue. They both look at me with excitement in their eyes, yelling &quot;OOOhh!! What's going on Who's getting yelled at out here&quot; I look at them with a smirk, then to the screaming woman and her sidekick, then back to them, as if to confirm visually what was happening. Completely missing the cue, they continue, trying to push past the wall in front of them, before they realize I was the center of attention. The cigarette, still burning in my lips, dangled ashes all over my shirt as I stood there defenseless.As much as I wanted to bolt out of the place the second her cousin ended the production and stormed out of the hallway, my stubbornness did not want to let her feel any victory. We stayed the remainder of the evening, taking every shot from the rest of the crowd replaying my embarrassment. After sucking it up, the lights came on and we left, leaving a little piece of my soul on the walls of that club. I will never forget the time I was downsized with such verbal abuse. Of course, I probably deserved it, but no guy ever wants to feel that small at the expense of a 2-foot woman. It was the smallest I have ever been made to feel in my life.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[The Stupidest Night of My Life]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-stupidest-night-of-my-life/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-stupidest-night-of-my-life/</comments>
<pubDate>Sat, 03 May 2008 20:39:59 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-stupidest-night-of-my-life/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[You figure you get all you're partying out of your system by the time you are legally able to party. Sometimes this happens a little later in life, and for some, this may never happen at all. I still know guys who go out and get hammered every other night, and it works for them. Anyway, shortly after I turned twenty-one, I used to go to this happening club downtown. Every Friday and Saturday, I would find myself trying to pick up women, buy drinks for whoever was a taker, and ended up dancing like a fool, sometimes with a partner, sometimes by myself. I have met several ladies over the year or two of going, but one woman I met there led to one of the stupidest moments of my life.She was hot, loved to grind, and was there nearly every weekend I was. I started talking to her shortly after I saw her, and was stunned that she took a liking to me. Over the course of a few months, I wanted her more than anything. We had a few run-ins in the hallway, ducking outside in the alleyway, but we never went at it as bad as the night we hooked up in her car. We were stuck on each other, but there was only one problem. Her husband, who was a complete ass to her, probably would not have approved of our actions. I didn't find out she was married until it was too late. She never wore her ring, and I never recall asking. By the time she spilled the beans, we were both too into a relationship to back out. I just wished she had picked a better way of telling me.It was a typical Saturday night, and I saw her from across the room as I walked up the stairs into the entranceway. She gave me a funny look, grabbed my arm and pulled me halfway down the hallway. I sensed something was wrong, but was still a little unsure of her mannerisms. She pulled me down close and whispered in my ear that her husband was here that night, and that we needed to be careful. I didn't catch it at first, but then felt like I was smashed in the gut by an anvil. Husband! It would have been nice to tell me a little earlier, I thought, but never said it out loud. She then told me to stay, and that she would sneak around to try and talk to me whenever possible. After all, her hubby wasn't into her, he was just starting to get a whiff of something going on over the past few weeks and thought he would join his wife for a night out. Reluctantly, I stayed and watched as my new found girlfriend pretended to be into her husband as they were together on the dance floor.There is nothing worse than watching the woman you love with some dude, even if it was her husband. I felt betrayed, I was pissed off beyond belief, and I dealt with it by pounding shot after shot. I was reckless, adding fuel to the fire with every drink, and also causing more potential danger than I had realized. I sat in the hallway the entire night, and she did as promised, sneaking out every once in a while to see me. She knew I was a little ticked at her and she tried to calm me down with reassurances, and that's when her darling husband turned the corner and saw us talking. I will give her credit, she held herself well, explaining that I was a good &quot;friend&quot; of hers. Luckily, I was sitting next to another guy who is always there, and played it somewhat cool. I introduced myself as a generic &quot;Rick&quot;, played nice for a bit before catching myself getting really sarcastic. They left the hallway, and I had had enough. I stormed out of the club after slamming my last shot, hopped in the car, and sped off. Miraculously, I made it home safe, and passed out shortly after. In the meantime, she and the hubby had words about my rudeness, said he could tell I was more than a good friend, and he walked out leaving her stranded. She had called my cell phone over and over, and I finally awoke from my stupor to answer it. She begged me to forgive her for not telling me she was married, and that she would really appreciate a ride home. I told her I would be there in a few minutes, hung up the phone, and then am not sure what happened next. Somehow, I woke up in the morning, at the wheel of my car. I was parked, not crashed, but oddly enough I was in an empty parking lot down the road from my house. How the hell did I get there, I wonder I could not remember a thing. I drove home, and took my phone from my pocket, realizing there was a few voicemails. There were three from her. The first two were wondering where I was, and a third stating she got a ride home from someone else. Then it all came back to me. The entire night replayed in my head in a matter of five seconds. I felt bad that I left her stranded, but I was still angry at her deceptions. Since I did not have a number to call her (now I know why), I assumed she was not dead somewhere. This was confirmed a few hours later, when she called to apologize. We decided it was probably best to end things for a while, until she was set on what was going on in her life. We eventually met back up again about a year later, when things were calmer and she was divorced. I still don't think I have done anything dumber than the night I got in that car being so hammered. I am glad I only made it to the end of the street, and not t-boning some car full of kids or a mom coming home from work. That was the last time I drove drunk again.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[That New Car Smell]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/that-new-car-smell/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/that-new-car-smell/</comments>
<pubDate>Thu, 01 May 2008 11:28:25 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/that-new-car-smell/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Buying a brand new car is such a stressful event. If you are like me, you tend to add even more stress to the situation by expecting everything to go wrong: they won't accept our deal; we'll pay more than we should; the financing will fall through. I am what you might call a pessimist, so it is good that my wife is the complete opposite. It creates a balanced relationship. But I have come to realize that when purchasing any vehicle from a dealership, there is one thing you can count on; you will always get screwed one way or another. I came upon this determination after my first new car experience, and I will always have that in my pocket of learning from my own stupidity.I had never owned a brand new car before. At 24 years old, I was married with a few kids, and the wife and I decided we could no longer drive the van that was ridden with electrical problems and expect a safe ride every time. So that being agreed upon, we trucked down to the closest dealership south of our hometown. Since we were only a few miles from the Capital Region, we figured we would get less screwed by driving half an hour in the opposite direction, because small towns have better deals. I no longer accept this as the case, mind you. Of course, sure as shit, not five seconds after we set foot onto the lot, a snot-nosed, green as can be salesman &quot;politely&quot; interrupts us with a few fast facts about the brand new Dodge Durango we happen to be standing in front of. On the ride down, my wife and I decided that an SUV was the way to go. While the mini van suited our needs, neither of us would be caught dead driving one, so the decision was easy. Besides, with a gallon of gas going for $1.61, which was high for then, we knew we could manage owning a gas hog. After standing in front of the new Durango, we were both impressed with its new look. Sure the Hemi engine would cause a little more hurt at the pump, but to cruise down in that every day would makes us forget about it. The only problem was, Mr. Greenshoes could see the excitement in our eyes, too. We tried to contain our new found love, and asked to see a few other styles of automobiles on the lot. We weren't fooling him, though, which leads me to think now that he wasn't as new and innocent as he looked. He was very conscious of what was going on, and kept comparing everything to the Durango, putting it up on a pedestal, feeding our desire. After a few minutes of test driving it, it was ours, at least in my mind. Joe, the kind, sleazy salesman, went to get the papers as I sat down, tasting my first bite of fear. I hate paperwork, especially the kind that runs credit checks. I had good credit, we both did, that wasn't it. It's the fact that one little piece of paper is the end all be all of what says you can or can't have something you want that turns my stomach. We filled out the paperwork with anxiety. This was the first time I was making a commitment to such a large monthly payment, other than signing for our mortgage. For the next four years, this money would be taken from us so we could drive around in splendor. And splendid, it was. Leather seats, rear DVD entertainment system, the high end stereo system with the add-on speakers, 6-disc CD/MP3 player, sunroof, Hemi engine, all wheel drive, four wheel drive; this thing was loaded to the nine. I did not opt for the chrome package, to my regret, but I was psyched. Before I signed my name, I wanted to ask some questions, and here is where I wish I could turn back the clock. They were running a special &quot;Smart-Buy&quot; financing program that year, smart being the operative word. After listening to how this program is much better than leasing, and so much better than out right purchasing the damn thing, I was more confused. I could feel the panic attack starting, and my wife sensed it, grabbing my hand at my side. I asked, &quot;So how is this not like a lease, then&quot; &quot;Oh, it's much better, you own the title.&quot; Now I do know I am not a moron, but for some reason, sitting there absorbing Joe's web of lies, things for some reason made sense. We signed, submitted the paperwork, and drove our new ride home. I tucked the paperwork away, hoping to never look at it again. Wrong again. After about a week of feeling like a badass driving this thing around town, the dashboard light kept coming on deactivating the driver side air bag. We brought it into the dealer, which conveniently told us the light was not on. After five more times of this happening, we finally got it to the service center and proved we are not crazy. They ran the tests with the light on, figured they solved the problem, and sent us on our way. Two more times down there, we started to get pissed. We were taking the car on a road trip to Florida in two months, and we wanted this fixed or else. I started arguing with the dealer, who basically told me it was my problem now. I screamed about lemon laws, arbitration, and the fact that I was forking over a lot of month each month to drive the 1998 Plymouth Voyager they kept lending us. I pulled out the paperwork and found not only my rights as an angry consumer, but the boatload of things my buddy Joe didn't feel like disclosing. After finding out that the payments we were making were only half the cost of the vehicle, a huge balloon payment was waiting for us at the end, the price financed was six thousand more than the sticker price, and we would be charged for fifteen cents per mile over my allotted stipend each year, I was even more pissed. I wasn't even told about a mileage barrier. Had I known a little more about contract law then, I would have known the right questions to ask. I was stuck with this deal, a car that continued to malfunction, and it made me sick to my stomach. I knew I was being a pessimist for a reason. Well, we lost the arbitration trying to get the car lemoned, and we took it to Florida. In fact, we still have the vehicle today. I still love it, although my wife is ready to slam it into a tree. The air bag light was magically fixed the fourth attempt, and never came back on, that is until a few months ago. Joe coincidentally left the car sales business and went back to working in some auto shop. Lucky for him, cause I was ready to kill the kid. I did walk away from it with a lesson, though. I will never be screwed by another car dealer again. If I say it over and over, I might believe it.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[A High School Party]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/a-high-school-party/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/a-high-school-party/</comments>
<pubDate>Sat, 26 Apr 2008 08:55:49 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/a-high-school-party/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I am not sure if this was the case all over the world, but my high school was loaded with druggies and alcoholics. Not saying I did not partake in a little partying now and then, but the more I recall those four years of memories, the more I find myself thinking we were all degenerates. From sneaking booze into classrooms, smoking joints in the locker room, I am surprised the cops weren't there every day dragging kids out by the ears. Of course, there was one day where it came pretty darn close.My high school years were surrounded by nuts. Freshman year, we were welcomed to the school by a screaming nut job vice principal who was way too excited about the job. He corralled us into the gymnasium for a big kickoff ceremony, and by that afternoon we all hated him. By sophomore year, we figured out the ins and outs of the building, where to go for certain things you needed or wanted, and that was just the way it was. You would think being a Catholic school would be filled with innocent little school kids, donned in uniforms, looking perfectly clean cut and studious. We couldn't have been farther from that image. We could point out the girls that would eagerly give head under the bleachers of the football field, the ones that would get so trashed they couldn't tell you their name, and those were the ones you wanted to party with. By senior year the annoying vice principal had been fired for trying to touch a few male students, a female teacher was arrested for sleeping with a lot of students, and Hard Copy was there almost weekly capturing it all. But one of my fondest memories that senior year was the last day of school. There was a class-wide party planned, and where else would it be but directly on the front lawn of the campus. I was not part of the planning crew, but I had a few insiders I was good friends with, and I got a hold of the inventory list. Several kegs, a good amount of happy smoke, and almost every senior in the student body was coming. As class let out that day, only exam week stood between us and freedom. I waited at a buddy's house down the street from school, and by the time the sun had set, the roadies had the kegs going, red cups were passing around everywhere, and the smell of cannabis was wafting through the air.I set up ground with a group of people, and we stood in a circle shooting the bull, downing beer after beer, and having a good time. I found out I was one of the more tame ones that night, however, when I took a little stroll to release the alcohol that was imbibed. First, we stumbled across the bushes that covered a kid getting head. Nothing spoils the moment more then someone about to take a piss on you in that position, so I decided to find another tree. I went from the tree to an awkward moment of what appeared to be a mini gang bang with one of the easiest girls in the class. I swear, it was something out of Eyes Wide Shut. Feeling left out, I tried without any luck to hook up later that night. Unfortunately, all the easy ones were taken for the evening, and I refused to play sloppy seconds. I spent the night in my car, sleeping off the beer induced coma.When the sun just barely began to rise, I awoke to a few kids that apparently never stopped partying streaking loudly across a neighbor's front yard. Rubbing my eyes, I got out of the car, trying to regain my bearings, and could not believe the sight. The lawn in front of the school was covered with empty kegs, red cups, trash, and a buddy of mine passed out along the bushes with his pants still at his knees. Glad to see I never took a leak in those bushes after all. A few girls were vomiting over along the statue of St. Mary across the campus, and I stood and watched in amusement for a few moments. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see next. Our guidance counselor, who was just fired on the last day of school for being nearly incompetent, was standing no lie, in his boxers, pounding a 40oz bottle of Crazy Horse. I did a double take, unable to process what was ten feet in front of me. I didn't say a word as I looked all around hoping I was not the only one witnessing such an event. If I had a camera, I would have already had a few shots, but sadly the image was left in only my head. It still is pretty haunting today.I will say, out of all the parties I have attended throughout high school, that one was the best. It is still talked about today, nearly 13 years later. I am not too sure what ever happened to that guidance counselor. I am sure he is working at another school somewhere. Too bad camera phones weren't around, or else that picture would be posted all over the internet.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[POS Floating in the Water]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/pos-floating-in-the-water/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/pos-floating-in-the-water/</comments>
<pubDate>Wed, 23 Apr 2008 17:14:42 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/pos-floating-in-the-water/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I have a lot of respect for my father-in-law. I lost my dad when I was a little kid, so I never really had a father figure to take me under their wing. When I met my wife, I loved the fact that her dad thought the world of me. As much as I felt nervous in his presence, he always attempted to calm me down unknowingly. He is very down to earth, and always willing to help everybody in need; a real superhero. I never really saw him lose his cool, until that one summer where he repeatedly let his other side shine.My in-laws live on the river. My father-in-law, as a hobby, owns a few boats, and before he got big into cars these boats were his passion. The second summer after meeting his daughter, he decided to take us out on a nice little boat ride downstream. It was the beginning of the season, and my wife had planned to spend the summer teaching me to water ski. But that would come in due time; this ride was for pure relaxation. And man, it sure started off that way. The wind in my hair, the sun beaming down, I was hoping it would never end. We had trailed off course a bit to see a nice little lighthouse off the coast about an hour south of the boat launch, and we swung around to head back towards home. About halfway there, the boat shuddered, the motor choked out, and my father-in-law, who is very mechanically inclined, failed in trying to get it started back up. Now, this man stays calm through the worst of events. His even temper was starting to wear thin, however, as he became more and more irritated with every boater that passed by without even an offer of help. It was not long before the comments started to fly. &quot;Yepkeep on going, a**hole!&quot; &quot;Don't bother helping us out, just keep looking at us as you pass by&quot;. The only option we had was to call a friend of his back on land (thank God for cell phones) to bring down his boat and tow us back. Since the current was carrying us back south, we had to paddle over to the shoreline, hop out and hold the boat so that we would stay in one spot until we were rescued. As much as it sounds like an easy plan, try holding a boat still in the current of a river sometime. Of course, as we did this, the rubberneckers that passed by increased in number, ignoring my father-in-law's comments. We were towed back home in the next two hours, and he immediately went to work on the problematic motor.Two weeks later, insisting the boat was fixed, my father-in-law called us down again for another boat ride to make up for the lousy outing last time. We of course agreed, and just about halfway down the coast, again we found ourselves on the shoreline waiting for a tow. Like clockwork, our fellow boaters passed by like we weren't even there. This pissed my wife's father off a little more, adding more fuel to the flame that was still burning from last time. The curses came out a little more. &quot;Jesus, look at these a**holes passing by us, like we were a piece of s*** floating by in the water!&quot; &quot;These f'ng bastards could give a s*** about anyone but themselves!&quot; Of course, it was all said within earshot to be overheard in an attempt to lay in some inkling of guilt. However, I do not believe it worked. Again, for the second time that summer, we were towed after a 2 hour wait. His friend said, with a smile, that he would have to start charging a service fee.It was halfway through the summer when we were offered a third ride on the famous ship that couldn't. It started nice and smooth, and we were having a great time. The sun was bright and it was nice and hot; a perfect summer indeed. We were relaxing down the coast, not even questioning the fact he told us over and over before we boarded that this time it was running perfectly. In fact, he told us that he and his wife took it out a few times since the last episode without an issue. This comforted us for about five minutes until the boat died again. The man went from calm to irate in a matter of seconds. He kicked the motor, grabbing the safety floatation seat in the rear of the boat and launched it twenty feet in the air. There were a few people nearby; however, they were spared his comments. Instead, he took it out on the motor. Rather than using the paddle to make yet another trip to the shoreline, he continued to try and jumpstart the motor with the smash of the oar. Thankfully, my mother-in-law phoned in another favor, or else I think we would still be there witnessing the tantrum. It was that summer he vowed never to help another stranded soul. I felt bad for this statement, because he is such a great guy who does go out of his way to help anyone in need. I suppose over time he lost some of his bitterness, but I do believe that was the year he ended his passion for boating and took up cars instead. While you can break down in a car, at least you aren't fighting the current, I guess. I remind him of that summer, and it still gets under his skin, but we laugh about it somewhat now. I know I will never ask him for a boat ride again, that's for sure.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[My LSD Experience]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-lsd-experience/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-lsd-experience/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 14 Apr 2008 23:36:02 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-lsd-experience/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I have to start this story off by making it very clearI do not support the use of drugs, not as a kid, not as an adult. I think illegal drugs are illegal for a reason, and we should just accept it and move on. That being said, it is well known and all but accepted that every teen experiments with illegal substances at some point in their lives.I was no exception, I'll admit. I have tried most everything at least once, and some a few more times than that. And I'll even go so far as to admit they were pretty damn good, too. All, with the exception of one: LSD. I am not too sure why there is such praise for the drug, but my one experience with acid left me with the worst feeling ever.It all started pretty normal. The corner across the street from school property was filled with underage smoking students, but as long as it wasn't on their property nobody cared. This is the corner where more than half of the drug dealing went down, and where I found myself almost every day of my high school life. Typically the deals were mostly pot, with acid on the rise through the later years. I was 17 when I took the plunge, after being prodded for roughly a year straight. I dragged one of my good friends into the deal with me, because I heard you can't trip by yourself the first time, so he reluctantly agreed. We met on the corner at lunchtime, handing over $10 and receiving two teeny tiny squares of paper wrapped carefully in cellophane. I held onto the package until the final bell rang, and we hit the doors with nervousness as well as a rush of excitement. We hopped in his girlfriend's car shortly after dropping the tabs of paper on our tongues, and went over to her house to hang out. Not realizing the effects took some time, we started playing some video games. Roughly 45 minutes later, it began to set in, and we started with the giggles. My face hurt from laughing and smiling so much. His girlfriend had no clue what we had done, and we had no intentions of letting her in on the secret. We continued playing video games until it got a little too weird. My face went numb, and my teeth felt like they were going to explode out of my mouth. The colors of the game started to blend into odd pictures, and I had to stop. Short of freaking out, I walked out of the room, trying to get a hold of myself. While my little episode had the potential to be a downer, I still could not stop laughing. We switched from the games to the TV, and his girlfriend realized something was up.After seeing colors in a black and white music video and being annoyed by an Elijah Wood movie, it began getting stuffy in the room and we had to bust out of there. We strolled down the street to get some Chinese take-out. We were hungry, but yet had no appetite. It was now about 3 hours after the effects kicked in, and we sat there staring intently at our egg drop soup. I bit into a crunchy noodle, and though my teeth broke off in the process. We then left from there to the local 7-11, and could not stop laughing at the picture of the ice cream sundae apparently eating the guy next to it. By hour number six, I began to lose it. The effects were still kicking in strong, and I was ready for it to be over. I asked my friend how long this would take before we started coming down, and he advised me that they were triple dipped, thus enhancing the effects for quite a long time. My heart sank, and I couldn't calm it down so easily. I was entertained for a little bit by putting on zebra striped band-aids we had purchased from the store. The black stripes seemed to blend in, connecting with my veins. At this point, it didn't take much of a slip from reality to make me become frantic. To top it all off, I made the poor decision of looking at myself in the mirror. It was not a pretty sight. I finally called my mom, telling her I would be late. The conversation went ok; however, it sounded as though she was talking to me from behind the couch I was sitting on. I sat on my buddy's girlfriend's couch as if it were a small ship on rough waters, clutching onto the decorative pillow for dear life. At about hour eight, I felt about ready to fake being alright to my mom, and got a ride home.I arrived home agitated, still high as a kite, but I could contain myself for the most part. My mom, after playing 20 questions, finally stopped bugging me and went to bed. I think she knew I was up to something, but probably just thought I was drinking or something like that. I went up to my bedroom, sat in my bed in the darkness, hoping the drug would wear off instantly. After another hour, I dealt with the fact it was not happening anytime soon, and closed my eyes. This is when I realized, it is not a great idea to sleep while tripping. The flash of nightmares had me back up in an instant, although the sun was out and I realized a few hours have passed. I also realized that for the most part, the drug was gone.I grabbed some breakfast, and was able to eat without feeling like my jaw would break. Sitting there at the table, with some OJ and a big bowl of cereal, I let out a big sigh. As much as it was a different experience, made me laugh like crazy for hours on end, and allowed me to see that even shadows were three dimensional, I would not be drooping hits of acid anytime in the near future. Thankful to be alive, I confirmed in my head that life was never meant to be spent tripping on acid.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[Gambling Story]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/gambling-story/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/gambling-story/</comments>
<pubDate>Fri, 11 Apr 2008 22:45:23 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/gambling-story/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Jackpots Never Last Long...I am not much of a gambler. I have watched as friends and loved ones lost a lot of hard earned money in a matter of a few hands of cards, and I vowed never to have that problem. I grew up poor, and understood the value of having cash on hand. I found it odd how people enjoyed wasting money like that, with such a little chance to break ahead. Of course, I did get to experience a little bit of that enjoyment during my one trip to Foxwoods Casino.Foxwoods is a beautiful casino, as it should be with the amount of money they rake in from gamblers every year. My trip was the result of my mom and stepdad needing a third person for their annual bus trip to the Mecca for the Northeastern gambling addicts. I hated the idea of losing money, but went with the attitude that I only brought $100, and that is all I was prepared to lose. When the bus was a few minutes from the casino, an elderly gentleman in what appeared to be a conductor's hat walked down the length of the bus, passing out meal tickets for the buffet along with a $10 match play for any table game there. At least I wouldn't lose so much I couldn't afford lunch, I joked. My mother was laughing at the fact I have never been to one of these places. Here I was, twenty three and a virgin to casinos. I guess she was one of those people I could never understand.As I walked through the entrance, I couldn't help but notice that casinos are not much different from shopping malls. Each storefront was filled with slot machines, table games, and more. I walked passed row after row of glittery electronic machines, screaming at me to put money in and give it a spin, trying to lure me in with fancy music and the clanking of coins. I didn't know where to go, but figured I was too much a novice to sit at a table game, so I stuck with the slot machines. Never having been there, I thought it was different how you could hit a button rather than pull the arm like I used to see in movies. However, they left it as an option. After pouring forty bucks into the machine, which I believe was the simple triple 7's kind, I was not much of a winner. Sure, 20 credits here, 15 there, but it added up to nothing. After feeling tired of this waste of money, I got up from the machine and walked into another maze of one armed bandits across the way. This time, I was playing a Double Diamonds slot, and another thirty bucks later the same result occurred. Since I had only passed about two hours away and had another five to go, I figured I would take a break from losing money and eat my free lunch. And to be honest, it wasn't that bad. The food was a little overdone, but I understand health regulations differ from state to state. After letting my food digest, I found my mother and filled her in on my downer of a day so far. With thirty dollars left I needed to pace myself. She was ecstatic over winning 300 credits at the nickel machine, which added up to a few dollars at that. I wandered back off on my own, and found a little spot in the corner with only a few rows of machines. Sticking my head inside, I noticed the room was filled with high roller slots. These bad boys cost anywhere from $5 to $100 per spin. Completely avoiding that room, I walked back to the Double Diamonds section, and took a seat. Letting out a sigh, I figured I might as well go out swinging, slipped in my last twenty and ten, and let it ride. I was down to about two dollars when it happened. I hit the spin button for the three hundredth time like a zombie. I didn't even here the sirens going off; I had to rely on the woman sitting next to me with the cigarette hanging from her lip to tell me that I hit the jackpot. I looked down and thought she was losing it because no quarters were pouring out. I went to tell her off, when I saw an attendant standing there next to me. He offered fake congratulations, and then advised me to wait there until he returned. As I stood there I tried calculating how much I had won. Apparently it was too much to give me in quarters, and said it out loud as the guy returned: $400 dollars. I was shocked. He may as well have told me I won a hundred grand. I was ecstatic, never thinking in my wildest dreams that this could happen. I tried to find my mom to tell her the good news, passing by the table games I had skipped by on the way in. I thought for a second, and then decided that since I have all this money, I could turn it into so much more at the tables. I walked over to see what it was all about.All of the blackjack tables were full, so I took an interest in the nearby roulette table. After studying the other patrons for a few minutes, I sort of had an idea on how to play, and had no problem laying down $200 on red. I mean, it was a fifty-fifty bet, how could I lose, right Well, the spin landed on black, and I had just lost half my jackpot in a matter of seconds. Regretting my decision, I went back to the slot machines. But this time, since I was now a &quot;high roller&quot;, I was going straight to the big ones. I exchanged my last $200 in for $10 coins. The roll was so small, I almost laughed. But I was going to win my losses back at the $50 per spin slots. After all, I heard they pay out more than the quarter ones, and I pulled back the arm with great anticipation.Five seconds later, I was literally broke. I wanted to reach my hand into the slot machine and pull my money back out. Short of throwing a fit, I walked out of the room, dazed and confused at losing so much money in such a short time. I sat at a bench in the entrance area, waiting another two hours for the bus to leave. My mother and stepdad caught up with me while boarding the bus, telling me about their great winnings. I told them my horrible story, to which they laughed. I guess they have been there so many times, they could relate, but I didn't want to hear it. The ride home was miserable and full of regret. Why didn't I stop when I was up to $400 Was I crazy I vowed that I would never gamble again. But it was then that I finally understood the high a gambler gets; the thrill of possibility that keeps them going. And to be honest, I don't envy that at all. I think I like my money too much.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[Drinking Story]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/drinking-story/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/drinking-story/</comments>
<pubDate>Wed, 09 Apr 2008 18:42:14 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/drinking-story/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[It All Started With a 40oz BreakfastWe all do stupid things as kids. I say this more and more as I watch my own children grow up. The older we get, the less thought we put into our actions. Whether it be to impress friends, girls, or just attempting to be unique, when you look back at your life you often find yourself asking &quot;What the hell was I thinking!&quot; Now, the more I think about it, I ask this question about nearly every day of the year I was seventeen. The day I both started off and ended drunk just happens to be one of those days.My friends and I got together one Thursday afternoon at lunch, trying to figure out the one thing we could do to be considered rebellious. Why this thought goes through one's head is beyond me, but it did. After several moments of silence, one of the guys behind me suggested a party. But this party would be a little different than the average outdoor, find a spot to drink weekender. This party would be going on during school hours. As much as the idea may sound stupid, we all agreed and started laying out the specifics.The first order of business was creating the alcohol fund. Buying it was not an issue; some Iranian guy down the street from my house ran a convenient mart, if you can imagine that. He would sell us anything we wanted to buy, with a twenty percent underage tax, of course, while his partner stood at the door and watched for the authorities. The only problem is, he only sold 40's, so we had our pick of St. Ides, OE, Crazy Horse, the options were endless. Other than the fact that they all tasted like piss, they served the purposes of getting us drunk on a limited budget. We met at my house at eight in the morning, just after my mom left to go to work. There were five of us, three good friends, and an add-on because he had more money to contribute than we did. Skipping school felt good enough, but skipping school to drink all morning put a little icing on the cake. We each had 2 bottles each, and downed them shortly after ten o'clock. With our heads in the clouds, we played cards, watched TV, and attempted to play a pick up game of football in the living room. After two smashed picture frames and a busted lamp, we decided to stop. A little after noon, the not such a friend add-on with the cash pulled out something to smoke, and we all confirmed how good an idea it was to invite him.With our brains both baked and buzzing, I notice it almost time for my mother to come home. I kick everybody out of my house, try to clean up as much as possible, and act somewhat normal as my mother walked in. She entered the door quick, and asked if I was ready to go. After pondering what on earth she was talking about, she reminded me I had to be to work in twenty minutes. While a normal headed kid would think &quot;How the hell am I going to work in this condition&quot;, I had a dead end job working at a local hardware store who thought &quot;I have no idea what I am doing anyways, why not do it drunk&quot; I arrived at work on time, thanks to my mom, and attempt to help customers in need find hardware supplies I had no clue about. The four hour shift felt like days. Finally, twelve pissed off customers and three hours later, I was sent home early to save labor hours. I called up a friend of mine to give me a ride home, and was invited to a big party at this college kid's apartment. Going on hours of drinking, smoking, and needing to go to sleep, I agreed to go anyways. He picked me up, and I continue where I left off. I drank another ten to twelve cans of beer as we listened to music, talked, and just hung out. I don't even remember what time it was when I passed out, but I woke up around six in the morning, upside down in a big round chair. The blood rush to the head apparently had no effect as it could not get past all the crap I had taken on the 24 hours before it. I stepped over several people who had passed out on the floor and made my way to the phone. I worked up enough nerve to call my mother for a ride, and prepared for a tongue lashing tat was about to come.What would have been perfect that morning would have been a nice quiet bed, a fluffy pillow, and about ten hours of sleep. What I got, unfortunately, was my mother in my ear the entire ride home. I know now it all stemmed from worry, but being hung over at 17, I ranking it up to pure nagging. I finally arrived home, but my mom knew how much I craved some quiet time, and made me rake the leaves out in the yard. As I stood there, the wind gusting through every pile I made, I thought about my situation and agreed personally that I would never do it again. You know how those commitments turn out as a teenager. Like I said, I was dumb for most of my days at seventeen.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[Father in Law]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/father-in-law/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/father-in-law/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 07 Apr 2008 23:30:28 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/father-in-law/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I think that it is safe to say that most, if not all, husbands have that small fear of their father-in-law. If you have not been introduced to his gun collection, heard any hunting stories, or been on the receiving end of a death look, than maybe you don't have this dull fear that always sits in the background whenever he is in the room. My father-in-law is a great man. Never given me a lick of trouble, never caused me any ounce of pain, but I still fear him because he is tall, thick and possesses two large hands that could squash me like a grape in seconds flat. I always feel like a twerp in his presence, especially because he has built three houses with his own hands, and I can't even hammer in a picture frame, which is why I was very surprised he asked me to help him one summer with his landscaping business.His normal hired hand was taken ill and could no longer help him with his projects. I was hired at the same rate of pay, which shocked me given my lack of experience. I finally boiled it down to the fact that it was in some way helping his daughter financially by using me as the pawn, and I was completely fine with that. The first weekend went well. I helped him install three residential lawns. The following week, we restored a deck, and excavated a flower garden. Again, no problems. By week three, I felt like I could take on any project. I even found myself hanging a broken door, fixing the dishwasher, and solved a nagging plumbing problem. My wife thought I was abducted and replaced with a pod. Those secure feelings rapidly escaped the following Saturday.It was a rainy day, which is why I was surprised to hear we were still on. The area we were working in was a mud pit to begin with. Add a few inches of rain, and it could lead to a really big mess. However, he had to get this lawn down because he had other jobs lined up. So we get out there, and I am driving the little 4-wheel drive diesel cart as he walked behind me feeding the hay bale chopper. You could tell he was in a pissed off mood because of the weather, and the condition of the ground was not helping the matter. I did not help the matter much, either, when I got stuck in a huge rut right near a tree. He spent a few moments trying to get me out, swearing the entire time. He came up with the idea he would pry the chopper out of the mod and prevent it from being an anchor in the mud. He told me to hit the gas, and I did. I heard him yell something, to which I took as &quot;Go, go, go!&quot; What he was actually saying was &quot;Whoa, whoa, whoa!&quot; I did not notice this until after I slammed on the gas and looked back as my father-in-law was pinned between the chopper and the tree. I almost lost it. After freaking out momentarily, I finally stopped the cart, backed it up enough to where he could get out from between the two, and I ran to his aid. The words this man came up with, I never heard before in my young life. He swore me up and down, but directed it at the machine, as he walked away trying to tend to his shoulder I nearly ripped out of socket. I didn't know what to do. I hurt the man badly, that I could see. How could I fix it I tried several times to help him, but his mood he gave off told me to stay the hell away for a bit. About twenty minutes later, he grabbed the machine, turned it on, vocally forced my ass back in the car, and I didn't say another two words. We finished the lawn about two hours later. After the long period of silence, we loaded up the machine to his trailer, hopped in the truck, and headed home. I didn't say a word until about halfway there, and asked if he was ok, hoping he would tell me not to worry about it. He grumbled that he was fine, and I was dropped off without a sound. I immediately told my wife how I almost killed her father, and she could not believe I was still alive. We were invited over for dinner a few days later, and I was expecting to be murdered before dessert. Shockingly, he was fine. My wife told him I filled her in on the story, to which he replied with a smack on the arm and a lecture about how you don't tell the women everything. Dinner went down smoothly, but the entire meal I could not fathom why he hasn't killed me yet. In fact, I am still here today.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[NIT basketball]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/nit-basketball/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/nit-basketball/</comments>
<pubDate>Thu, 03 Apr 2008 21:48:46 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/nit-basketball/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Being a good friend is probably the worst paying job. Not that anyone should treat it as such, especially because a lot of times a friendship can be very gratifying and even rewarding. Sharing the good times, being there for the bad; it is all worth it in the end. Unfortunately, bagging on your friends also happens in the process, which is sometimes intentional and other times, not. My best friend, who was best man at my wedding, has taken some abuse from me. The worst time was back during our senior year at high school, on one of the biggest &quot;cut&quot; days in school history.We are very sports oriented in our hometown. Growing up in the Capital Region of New York State, you have to do whatever it takes to shake that &quot;upstate hillbilly&quot; stigmatism assigned by the downstate folk. It's hard playing cousin to the largest, most well known city in the world. So whenever we get a chance to make a name for ourselves, we relish in the glory as much as possible. This particular year, it was college basketball. Siena College, a division one school, had made their way into the second largest tournament for the sport: The NIT. We typically do not get some of the big name sports teams up in our area, especially since the Yankees pulled their double A franchise a few years before. Siena had made it into the big dance once back in the late eighties, so it was still a thrill for our town whenever luck turned their way. As if it couldn't get any better, the first round of the tournament would be held in our decent-sized arena in the center of downtown Albany. With this tournament came a very prestigious opponent in the form of Georgia Tech. Georgia Tech, under the tutelage of Bobby Cremins, one of the most respected coaches in college sports at the time, was the opponent. They rolled into town on a weekday to play an afternoon game against Siena to open the tournament. Of course, everyone wanted to be there to witness this great event, even if it meant our team would take a beating of a lifetime. It was a chance to see a big time college, along with a few of the other teams scheduled to be there.  Unfortunately, it was during a school day, so a lot of the students were pissed. A few of us got together and decided we were going to go. We ordered tickets a few days before, and planned on bringing a false doctor's note to slip out early. Little did we know, roughly 115 other students were doing the same exact thing. As unhappy as school was with nearly half the student population cutting class, it was understood and forgiven. We met up with our one friend who had access to his own car, Bill. Little did we know it was not going to be his day.We jumped into Bill's car and took off. The traffic was horrendous, mostly because of the game day atmosphere, but also because people did actually work in the state's downtown metro area. I held on to the tickets, one for each of us. There were four in total, and Bill circled the area five times to get a parking spot. He eventually got frustrated, and dropped us off at the door, on the condition we wait to enter the arena. With the tickets securely in my jacket pocket, we bailed as he took off to dump the car somewhere. We stood in the midst of the largest crowd ever to attend an event here in Albany. After ten minutes of waiting without the ability to see if he was coming, we relocated at the top of the building to get a better look. There was no sign of Bill, and the game was going to start any minute. The nervous excitement took over a few moments later, and we figured he would just come in when he got a spot and we would see him then. After all, it would be foolish to miss the game standing ten feet in front of the entrance. We got to our seats about five minutes before tip off. We were stuck way up in the nosebleeds, but nobody cared. It was awesome just being there. The crowd was rocking, everyone was having a good time, and the first half came to a close with Siena on top. It was about then when we realized Bill was still not there. Of course, this was before cell phones, so there was no contact once inside except from a payphone down in the underground ticket booth. I went out in the hallway during halftime, and noticed that I still held my best friend's ticket in my pocket. The guy I was closest to throughout all of high school, the one who made sure we got to the game by having his car that day, had no chance of even getting in to see the game since I unknowingly forgot to hand over his ticket upon exiting his vehicle. My stomach dropped, and I felt like the worst friend ever. It was hard to enjoy the rest of the game, but I managed to pull through just fine. The rest of my friends didn't even realize Bill never got in until we went to leave without a ride. Oddly enough, he didn't stick around to chauffer us home. Siena defeated the great Georgia Tech, and then went on to beat Tulane, ending the Albany, NY sector of the tournament. The final rounds were at Madison Square Garden, where their string of victory ended abruptly by Villanova. I think it bothers him to this day that we pretty much ditched him at that big game. I can't say I blame him, but I try to make it up to him every now and then by reminding him of it, just to rub it in. Hey, what are friends for<br/><br/>1 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[Dancing Through Life]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/dancing-through-life/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/dancing-through-life/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 24 Mar 2008 15:54:40 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/dancing-through-life/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I love my wife. I start this story with that caveat because I am about to reveal an embarrassing moment in her life. Being a mom, you have to put up with certain abuse from your kids; especially when they transform into teenagers. Part of my job as husband and father is to fend off the kids' abuse as much as possible, not fan the flames and encourage their behavior.One afternoon, I took it upon myself to try out the video function of our digital camera we had just received as a Christmas gift. Typically the video capture function is not that good, so I was testing it in the hopes of defending my position that we needed a new camcorder as well. Moving around the house while recording, I walked in on my wife ironing some clothing while listening to her ipod. She was getting into the song, singing off key, as she even claims she does, doing some sort of dance I have never witnessed before. Trying hard not to laugh, I captured about 4 minutes worth of footage before she realized what is going on and ceased production. I explained to her it was merely a test I was performing, and would delete it from the memory card once I saw how it converted over to the PC. The next day, while sitting at the computer, I invite our teenage daughter to view the video clip, and we both nearly died of hysterical laughter. I blame her for coming up with the idea, but we decided to download it to a family website to share with our dear and closest family and friends. Take into consideration that my immediately family consists of nearly 40 members; all who have access to the site and check it often. The following week, we attended a function at my mother's house, and everyone came up to my wife laughing, congratulating her on her newest release. Being confused, she turns to look at my daughter and I, both of us trying hard not to burst out. Being the smart woman she is it didn't take her long to figure out what was going on. That night was a quiet, cold ride home. I immediately went into our house and deleted the video from both the website, as well as the hard drive. I took my verbal reprimand for punishment, and was grateful I didn't have to sleep on the sofa that night.As much as it was not right to take advantage of a situation like that and disregard my wife's feelings, it still was funny. I still have a copy of the video on my laptop, although I will never tell her. I look at it from time to time and think quietly to myself how I am married to that crazy woman, and it makes me smile.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[2 Year Old Escape Artist]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/2-year-old-escape-artist/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/2-year-old-escape-artist/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 23 Mar 2008 13:29:04 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/2-year-old-escape-artist/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Everyone has heard of Houdini, and his miraculous spectacle of escaping death time and time again. As I have not grown up in his era, I missed out on witnessing the amazing events, including the one that led to his demise. However, if he was reincarnated, I believe he re-entered this world in the form of my son.A month or so before our son turned two years old my wife started noticing some strange activity relating to items being misplaced around his room. She would put him down for his afternoon nap, and then a few hours later when she retrieved him from the crib, some of his toys that were put away nice and neat made an appearance on the floor. He would be in his crib, and did not offer any clues to how this happened. I hear my wife's story, and as a non-believer of the unnatural I figure that has to be some logical explanation, so I decided to test this strange reoccurring phenomenon. I took a few of his toys, strategically placing them in specific areas of the room. I would then place him in the crib, taking a mental inventory of where everything was. Sure enough, when I went to get him from the crib, he was sleepy-eyed and clinging onto the railing, looking at me so sweet and innocently from inside. Yet the toys were all over the place. Now, since I cannot continue calling my wife crazy, and still have no explanation for what is happening, I figured that is may just be one of those unexplainable things in life. Who knows, maybe I was going crazy along with her.A few weeks later, one Saturday afternoon, my little boy did not want to take his nap. For one reason or another, it was not on his plans. Reluctantly he was placed in his crib and was vocally letting us know he was not in agreement. It was that moment that enlightened us about our poltergeist that lived behind his door. My wife made her way upstairs to calm the boy down, and got the door opened just a crack when she immediately notices our not-quite-yet two year old shimmying down the outside of the crib, heading towards the door. Suddenly, upon hearing mom nearby, he climbs up and over the railing, falling back into his crib as fast as possible. My wife walks into the room, calms him down a bit, however, he is still not happy about his forced-upon nap. She closes the door, leaving it slightly ajar, and sees him climb out again. She calls me to the door, and I see it too. I couldn't believe it. Out of all our kids, he was at the youngest age that moved from the crib to a bed. We figured we couldn't stand the thought of him trying to climb out and get stuck, injuring himself. We gated off his door in the hopes of still preventing him from having the run of the house in the middle of the night, but it is only a matter of time before he figures a way around that one too. That is when I realized our little son is up there with the greatest escape artists in history, and another reason there are more grey hairs on my head.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Trip to New York City]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/trip-to-new-york-city/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/trip-to-new-york-city/</comments>
<pubDate>Thu, 20 Mar 2008 14:20:43 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/trip-to-new-york-city/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[It's the biggest, most known city world-wide: New York City, The Big Apple. We have seen it in movies, read about it in books, and almost everyone's money runs through it at one point or another. While I have been to many Yankee games as a child, I never really experienced the city until my early twenty's. It was my first trip there that I learned a very valuable lesson.My wife and I hopped on the MTA railroad from Poughkeepsie, which is a nice 90 minute ride into Grand Central Station. We talked about going while dating, but never made it officially until after our wedding. We were ready to take the biggest city by storm. There was so much to see down there: the Empire State Building, Times Square, the Statue of Liberty; and we were going to hit them all. On our ride down, we discussed whether or not we should bring a guide or map, but agreed that you don't want to wander around Manhattan looking like a tourist, besides, how could one miss the biggest landmarks of the worldWe arrive late morning, and grab a bite to eat immediately off the train at a bagel shop in the terminal. Official New York bagels tasted about as good as any other, but we were in an area where movie stars and famous musicians sat and ate, so it added to the flavor. Upon ascending above ground, we found ourselves in the middle of a busy 42nd street, smack dab in the middle of the hustle and bustle of city life. Now, along with not wanting to look like a tourist, my wife and I were convinced we could get around by foot in lieu of being ripped off by the local taxi cab hacks, so we head in a direction with no destination in mind. After roughly two hours, we have walked over 40 blocks, and have seen nothing but the Flat Iron building in lower-midtown. We continue on, and figure we are bound to see something fantastic, and try and find Little Italy on the way because we are starving and do not want to eat at an ordinary place. Another two hours later, still nothing. Of course, we don't want to ask for directions, and are still too stubborn to purchase a map. So again, we continue moping around. At this point, we are ready to eat our arms, our feet are killing us, and the city lights are getting brighter because the evening has progressed. At this point, our patience is worn thin, and we argue over where to eat.With a strong desire to eat at an Italian restaurant in NYC, we found ourselves at The Olive Garden shortly after 8pm. Not exactly how we planned it, but we were hungry and decided to eat at the next place on the block we passed. We get a seat at the window, at least, and watch the crowd, which has doubled since the morning, and it finally dawned on us that nearly every person walking by had some sort of map in their hand. And here we are, eating processed Italian food because of our wanting to &quot;fit in&quot;. That was the longest trip we have ever been on. How many people go to NYC and never see a single solitary sight Only us, I guess. We did go down again a few months later, and this time right off the train bought a map for eight dollars at a magazine stand. It turned out to be money well spent.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Concert Tickets For Free]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/concert-tickets-for-free/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/concert-tickets-for-free/</comments>
<pubDate>Tue, 18 Mar 2008 14:43:32 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/concert-tickets-for-free/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[My wife and I never usually get the chance to get out of the house anymore. While we are anxiously awaiting our oldest daughter to reach the age where she can watch the others responsibly, we have to fight for our date nights. And to be honest, when we do get the chance, it sometimes doesn't end up as great as we hope. From waiting for a table for 2 hours, or walking around Wal-Mart, we have definitely had some less than desirable outings. Of course, we have some pretty great ones from now and then, too. The best one to date has probably been the concert we went to last summer. Although the conditions called for a miserable night, we were rewarded for sticking it out and making the most of it.It was hot, sticky, and the weatherman called for rain, but we still had tickets to one of the best concerts in to town. Toby Keith was playing at a performing arts center about an hour north of our house, and we were going. We dropped our kids off at my mother-in-laws, and headed up north. The dark sky was looming, but it was the farthest thing from our mind. We arrived in the parking lot after an hour of drive time and another forty-five minute wait in traffic. The first act was a nobody, which gave us perfect time to throw a few beers back at the car before entering the gates. While standing in line to be let in, the crackling thunder and bolts of lightning shot around overhead, and we started to get a bit nervous.See, the arts center has an indoor area where the stage is, but the back of the arena is open, allowing for thousands of people to stand on the grassy hill and still enjoy the concert. We stood in a packed crowd full of people, and made our way up to the edge of the lawn where the indoor entrance was. The crowd around us was going nuts, enjoying the music, the smell of some funny smoke filled the outdoor air, and we were having a good time. As the middle act was halfway through her set, the skies opened and it started to pour. We seemed to have skipped the sprinkling stage, and within seconds, we were soaked. As much as that could put a downer on date night, we stuck it through as everyone else around us ran for cover, figuring this was our once in forever night out and we were going to enjoy it.We were surrounded by a few other die hard fans, all sticking it out against the gate at the edge of the lawn when the middle act finished. The rain continued to pound on us, it was hot and sticky, and we looked at each other debating whether we should continue to stick it out. Just then, in the sea of fans pouring out of the arena stood an elderly couple. They approach my wife out of the dozen drenched fans standing there and reach their hand out to give her something. They lean in, and said &quot;Here, take our seatsit's just too loud in there!&quot; My wife grabs the tickets, and we immediately run to the gate and get inside. We were in-between acts, so we had a chance to scope out where our seats were. We were in such disbelief we didn't even notice the harsh comments coming from the group of soaking wet girls we were battling the storm with. Apparently, they were not as happy for us as we were, but screw them. When we finally realize where the seats were we both nearly dropped to the floor. The old man and his wife must have won the tickets from a radio contest because there was no way they would buy seats in the fourth row from the stage and not expect it to be loud. The concert resumed, and we went nuts. The people in the seats next to us inquired about the old man, and probably thought we hijacked him and stole his tickets, being we were soaking wet and the steam pouring off our heads as it does in the humid rainy nights. We ignored everyone around us, acted like we were the only two people there, and enjoyed that we were within spitting range from one of our favorite acts around.That was without a doubt the best concert I have been to. To be able to share it with my wife was amazing. We left the arena, still on a high, and drove all the way home in our soaking wet clothes. My cell phone stopped working as it does not like being wet, and the money in my pocket tried hard to hold it together, but it was all worth it.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Cheating in a Relationship]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/cheating-in-a-relationship/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/cheating-in-a-relationship/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 17 Mar 2008 14:04:54 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/cheating-in-a-relationship/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Guys are pigs. This can ring true about any man for at least one moment in his life. While we are licensed to belch in public or scratch ourselves inappropriately, the true pig can come out during relationship issues. One of my piggish moments came at a time when my relationship with my then girlfriend was nearing an end. While my girlfriend was lost in the middle of picking out wedding dresses and invitations, I was already past being done. She was an annoying girl, and never really treated me as an equal, so I decided on my own that I had put up with it long enough. She tried controlling every aspect of my life, and was pushing me over the edge. Sure I should have said &quot;I don't want to get married to you&quot;, but those discussions are easier to avoid then go through with, so I played along as best I could. Then I met this woman who was amazing. She was gorgeous, full of energy and life, and lit me on fire with her smiling eyes. She made me feel like a real human being. It did not take long before I started ducking on dates with my girlfriend to get better acquainted with this new woman.For any guy who has cheated, you know how hard it is to maintain this double life charade.  You can only tell your girlfriend you are sick or have to help your mom with the housework for so long before she wonders what is going on. In fact, I started getting the inquisition one night when I lied about running into an old friend in the parking lot. I was a step away from surveillance, and I had to do something about it. But I just wanted the other woman so bad, it hurt.To remember where I supposedly was half the time was the real battle. One night, I told my best friend that I needed him to cover for me. He worked nights at a local convenient store, but she would surely call his cell since I told her I was out with him. I went out with the new woman, and had a blast. We went everywhere and back, and I got home a little after midnight. As I entered the house, the phone was ringing. I picked it up, and it was my girlfriend asking how my night was. As usual, she was inquiring about my buddy, and I gave the standard lying answer. But this time, she wasn't buying it, and slammed the phone in my ear. I immediately call my buddy, who told me that not only did she try calling him, she showed up and his work looking for me. My dear friend, as best as he could, pretended I was in the cooler and went looking for me, only to produce the fact he was completely full of you know what. My cover blown, I call her back to try and fix the problem.Problems of that magnitude can never be fixed completely. Halfway through our conversation, I had explained how I felt, and broke the whole thing off. She chewed me out, continued to stalk me for a few months, and then finally gave up. I look back on it now and I guess I could have handled it a little better, but who thinks of that in their early 20's I was just relieved I didn't have to remember who the hell I told her I was with anymore.<br/><br/>5 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[First Baseball Game]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/first-baseball-game/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/first-baseball-game/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 16 Mar 2008 13:59:01 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/first-baseball-game/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I was raised a die hard Yankee fan since the day I exited the womb. We would go to games at least twice a year to get our fix and experience the great Yankee Stadium, and always watched them on TV. We never had great seats because we were such a large family and it would have cost a fortune, so just being there was amazing. But the most exciting game I have ever been to was on foreign turf at Fenway Park, and it was almost the best game I had ever been to.It was all organized through a bus trip. The county offices which my brother was employed by got together and purchased several lots of tickets, rented the bus, and we were off to enemy territory. On the ride there, the person responsible for heading the trip announced that we were to be back on the bus immediately after the ninth inning, no exceptions. If we were not there and accounted for, the bus was going to leave, and we would have to find another way home. We finally arrived, walking around the area surrounding the park waiting for to be let inside. I begrudgingly admitted the hot dogs were good, but would never swear to it back in New York. Finally, we got inside, and to my surprise the seats were very good. We were located on the fair side of the right field foul pole, front row against the wall. You could see everything. We watched batting practice, read the program, threw out a few Red Sox insults loud enough for the nearby Boston fans to hear. We were just being typical Yankee fans. The game started off fast, Bernie Williams doubled to score Jeter, and we were quickly ahead one to zip. Boston battled back, and got the go ahead run in the bottom of the second inning, but Paul O'Neill put us back on top with a two-run homer in the fourth. And this is how the game went on, a run here, two there, and the lead changed with every inning. We stood nearly the entire game. The score remained tied going into the ninth, the Yankees had two on, two out, and Girardi flied out to end the inning. The Sox went down one, two, three in the bottom half of the frame, and my brother was tapping me on the shoulder, getting his jacket, and said we had to head back to the bus. Like a little kid being dragged out of the candy store, I made it known I did not want to go. Reluctantly, we headed towards the exit, watching the game play on as I walked as slow as possible. By the time we made it to the doors, the Yankees had been retired, and it was heading into the bottom of the tenth. We got to the bus, as I sat there sulking in the fact that we had to leave with the game still undecided. After about 20 minutes, we were still sitting there, when I asked why we haven't left yet. One of the other passengers said it is because three guys still haven't returned. My chest began to pound as I became very irate. How come they got to stay for the rest of the game I wanted off the bus immediately. One of the guys on board picked up the game on his radio, and I calmed down a bit. An hour later, Bernie Williams hit a homerun in the top of the fifteenth inning, and they held the Red Sox to go on and win the game. About ten minutes later, the three missing men, a county legislator and his two sons, climbed on board and the bus took off. We were all stunned, pissed off, and the entire bus let them know about it the whole ride home. While we were all happy it was a good game and our team won, it would have been nice to actually experience it. Since I cannot count it as the best full game I have been too, it was still a good time; however, because I was not a high government official that got to stay without reprimand as threatened, it will always be tarnished in my mind.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[The Long Night]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-long-night/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-long-night/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 16 Mar 2008 01:36:18 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-long-night/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I knew my wife was crazy before I asked her to marry me. After all, it was her craziness I fell in love with. When I think back to when we were dating, I replay in my head all of the places we have been, the things we have seen, and I always get a kick of the night of our impromptu road trip that ended better than one would think.The two of us were lying around, watching TV when we decided that we were both hungry. Being a bachelor at the time, it was no surprise that the cabinets were bare, and the fridge was full of nothing but beer and ketchup. Needless to say, we agreed to run out and grab a bite. It was later in the evening, but not too late to get a table in a restaurant. So we hopped into my Dodge Neon and off we went. Before we got to the restaurant, my cell phone rang and a few of my friends invited us to meet them at Turning Stone Casino, which is a couple of hours west. I approach my wife with the last minute plans, and she reluctantly agrees. Now our night has become a little more involved. We would have to grab something quick to eat to avoid leaving my buddies waiting around until we get there. My girlfriend, who used to be married to a gambler, hops in the driver seat and says &quot;I know how to get there, I had to go pull my ex out from there a few times in the middle of the night!&quot;, which is fine with me because I had no idea where it was.She tells me to keep an eye out for exit 33, and we left with a couple of hours to talk about everything under the sun. When you are a new couple, it's a necessity to have those deep conversation nights that last a few hours, so we figured we'd kill a few birds with one stone. After two hours of driving, I notice we are only at exit 27, so I asked her how long it normally takes to get there. She says we should be there about now, but decide to press on. We finally hit exit 33 about three hours in. I look out the window, and we are in no man's land. As we go further off the exit ramp, there is nothing in sight; no traffic lights, no buildings, no gas stations, nothing. I call up my friends, who by now are wondering where the hell we are, only to find out that instead of taking the Thruway, my darling girlfriend hopped on the Northway. We were 20 minutes from the Canadian border. Surprisingly, as frustrating as it was, we were both laughing at ourselves rather than getting angry. After all, we did get to have the &quot;talk&quot;, and it brought us closer in our relationship. So we turned around and began our trek home. At this point, we weren't even hungry anymore. At about 3 a.m. we entered our hometown, and were mentally beat. The radio was cranking and we were being silly dancing to some oldies music when a local police officer decided to pull us over because she was driving over the shoulder of the road. The negative breathalyzer allowed us to proceed without any convictions, and we couldn't stop laughing the whole way home. To this day, that night is one of my fondest moments of life. We learned a lot about each other. My girlfriend, now wife, got to see my patient side and I got to see her bad driving skills and unsure sense of direction.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Disney World Trip]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/disney-world-trip/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/disney-world-trip/</comments>
<pubDate>Fri, 14 Mar 2008 11:01:54 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/disney-world-trip/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[The normal family vacation, from my experiences growing up, consists of a week of planned out, over anxious objectives of fun that leads to tired and cranky kids, arguing spouses, and ends in a long trip home as the big finale. When my wife and I started a family, we both vowed to create our own version of vacation that would hopefully be full of actual fun for our children, and not a remembrance of typical disputes, on location. And for our first trip to Orlando, this was quite the challenge.We first trekked our family to Florida after our third child entered the world. Since a family of five is a bit pricey to go anywhere, to everyone's shock and disbelief, we drove straight through. This is when gas prices were cheaper than airfare, of course. Using the directions, we calculated our travel time to be somewhere in the ballpark of 23 hours, leaving New York and arriving at our timeshare resort around 3pm. The way my wife drives, we were shooting for 19 hours.The ride down was surprisingly enjoyable. With a VCR in the back for the kids and plenty of CD's for the parents, our GMC Safari van was packed with lots of food and drinks to keep everyone happy. Including the occasional gas stops and restroom breaks, we made it in a little over 18 hours. By this time, we were all exhausted, checked into the resort, and crashed for the night. Although tired, we knew there was a week of excitement coming our way.I wouldn't use excitement to describe our oldest daughter's attitude, however. From day one at Magic Kingdom, she acted as though she was at a funeral. As a parent, forking over X amount of dollars to be in Disney World is stressful enough. Then to see that your kid isn't even enjoying it really adds to the headache. What's the point Monday was frustrating for me. Tuesday, my wife started to notice, and we spent the rest of the week trying to get her more in the mood. Our daughter, who was eight at the time, would not break. Now my wife and I were arguing over it. We would make comments like &quot;Hey, could you show a little ounce of a smile&quot; or &quot;Do you know how many kids would love to be where you are right now&quot; The little girl that normally has diarrhea of the mouth did not say five words the entire week. Even though our other two kids had an amazing time, we felt like our family vacation was a bust. This made the ride home feel like forever, and we did not break any record times, arriving at our home nearly 23 hours later. A few weeks later, my wife was picking up the house, and came across our daughter's journal for school. Before returning it to her backpack, she thumbed through and came to one of her recent entries about her trip to Disney. To her shock, the entry went on about how the trip was great, she had an unbelievable time, and it was the best vacation of her short life. This from a girl who didn't even crack a smile for pictures with Mickey and Friends, showed no signs of fun on any of the rides, and kept to herself the whole week. We were stunned, and actually went to her and asked if she was lying, which she denied. We shrugged, ranked up her attitude as emotion overload, and called it a day.We have been to Disney World two more times since that first trip. We still make fun of our daughter for being so miserable that first trip. She still swears to this day that the first time down was the best vacation of her life. I guess we have to take her word for it.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Where Am I Nights]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/where-am-i-nights/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/where-am-i-nights/</comments>
<pubDate>Wed, 12 Mar 2008 00:07:03 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/where-am-i-nights/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Being born in February, I am second in a long line of birthdays between me and my friends. Every year when we were younger we would get together and exchange birthday greetings. There was a big build-up the year we were all turning 21, and I sort of missed out having a winter birthday. The last of our group hit the big 2-1 in August, and that is when we decided to celebrate for all of us. After all, summertime is the best time to party.The new, responsible adults we were, we decided to recruit my best friend's brother, who was only 17, to drive us around for the night. He owed it to his big brother, as well as society. We may have been a little over anxious, hitting the town late Saturday afternoon, but we were ready to party all night. Upon entering the bar, we grabbed a few 2 for $3 beers, kicked back, and celebrated the best age we would ever reach in life. Could it get any better than this, we thought. The bar was absolutely dead, since the crowd didn't normally pick up until 6 hours later, so another buddy of ours decided to do a few rounds of shots.I don't exactly remember when all the people started to pile in, but I turned around to visit the facilities, and had to wade through a mob of guys to get there. &quot;Where did all these people come from&quot; I thought. Fortunately, there was not a long line yet, and I broke the seal for the first time that evening. The music kicked on, everyone was dancing, and we all got off the stools and got into it. My head was spinning already, but it did not prevent me from hopping on the table to show everyone my moves. As the night progressed, so did my buzz, and somehow our group of 7 turned into a trio minus the birthday boy. We looked around for him as much as a few drunken guys could, but the party vibe took back over. It didn't dawn on us until later that without our friend, his brother could not drive us home, so we bailed and walked through the streets trying to find him.Short of looking in the dumpsters, it was apparent our friends found a more lively party elsewhere, and ditched us. To our amazement, a kid we went to high school with was strolling around with his girlfriend, and we conned him into dropping us off at the diner down the street. We hopped out, and thanked him as he drove off. We decided to sit down on the small lawn in front of the diner for a moment, to try and sober up before ordering breakfast. The next thing I remember, the bright glow of a police cruiser's headlights was beaming in my face. One of the officers was out of the vehicle, poking me in the leg with his nightstick. &quot;Wake up!&quot; he shouted a few times before my eyes could adjust. I turn to see my other two friends still passed out on the ground behind me, only a few feet from the diner entrance. &quot;You guys will be gone by the time we turn around, right&quot; the officer said. I agreed, and stammered to my feet. Trying to rustle up my friends, who were not very cooperative, I finally got them to their feet. The cops were driving slow, giving us a chance, as they passed by and honked. Standing there with nowhere else to go and no way to get there, we entered the diner and grabbed a bite to eat. Since most of the patrons inside had to step over us to get in the door, we were greeted with a heavy round of applause and laughter.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Mom Goes Crazy]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/mom-goes-crazy/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/mom-goes-crazy/</comments>
<pubDate>Tue, 11 Mar 2008 03:11:56 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/mom-goes-crazy/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Every child thinks their mother is crazy. I am no exception, I'll admit. But who can blame a woman who raised eight kids for flying off the handle every now and then. I have witnessed some instances where I was surprised the straight jacket wasn't brought over. However, I was not the only person who helped drive her to the funny farm. The craziest time ever was due to my older brother and his not-so-approved-of girlfriend.I was in middle school at the time, and was awoken at about four o'clock in the morning to my mother screaming at my brother to get out of the house. Apparently, he had drunken himself into a stupor and just had a fight with his live-in girlfriend who had more baggage than a traveling salesman. Mom pulled me out of my bed and said I had to sleep downstairs, because my brother was drunk and she thought he was a potential danger to both himself and us. Being a little guy, I nervously agreed and tried to go back to sleep on the sofa. After a few moments, my brother stumbled downstairs, fought some more with my mom, and stormed out of the house, leaving me and an angry mother behind. The worst thing you can do to a mom is to let her stew. After about an hour or so, it was about time for me to get up and get ready for the bus. Before I knew it, I heard her yelling to herself. At that same moment, I notice out the downstairs window that clothes were falling onto the driveway. Confused by the entire situation taking place, I walk over to the window just as a crate of my brother's vinyl records smash against the concrete. I fly upstairs to see what is going on, only to find my mother emptying the contents of my brother's room out the window. The strength this woman exhibited was a miracle, especially due to her age and physical condition. But as I realize now, a parent's anger can lift cars. It took her nearly twenty minutes before most of the room was cleared out. The stereo, a television, dresser drawers, it all went. If it didn't fit out the window, it was not due to her lack of trying. She then went off, slammed her bedroom door shut, and I hysterically called my sister. Between the phone call and my sister's arrival, my mother walked from her bedroom, left the house without muttering a word to me, and hastily drove off. My sister came in the door, calmed me down, and we both pondered where my mother could have gone. We called all over; finally reaching her at the last place we ever thought she would be-at her desk at work. She sounded as if there wasn't a thing wrong, perfectly calm and normal like it was an everyday conversation. My sister cleaned up the mess from the driveway, and I don't believe the situation was ever talked about again until years later.That day will always be remembered as the craziest my mother ever got. Sure we all gave her reason to be, I understand that now being a parent myself. As much as we all joke about it now, including my mom, none of us were laughing the day it occurred.<br/><br/>6 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Memorial Day Weekend]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/memorial-day-weekend/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/memorial-day-weekend/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 09 Mar 2008 01:30:38 -0500</pubDate>
<dc:creator>yankeefan</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/memorial-day-weekend/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Memorial Day weekend, to most teenagers, has come to be known as the biggest party weekend opportunity around. For my hometown, it was what we waited all year for. The planning phase seemed to drag on forever, and in a few blinks of an eye, it was already over leaving us hungry for the next one. For me the most memorable, or maybe the most eventful since I don't quite remember much of what happened, was the year I was seventeen. At seventeen, a boy feels invincible, like nothing can stop him. Of course, the laws of physics and anatomy are always in play regardless of age, but we don't learn this until later in life. Anyways, this one particular year was around the time I first discovered liquor, and took a liking to it as it tasted better than beer, and would make you drunk in a quarter of the time. We arrive to the campground near Lake George early Friday afternoon, all pumped up and anxious to begin the weekend. My plans included a 1-liter bottle of Gold Schlager, and shortly after setting up the tents, I unscrewed the cap and went to town.I never knew I could drink so much in about 40 minutes time, but next thing I knew the bottle was empty, and while I did feel a bit tipsy, I have felt drunker than that before. So my next task was to sit and play some card games in a nearby tent with some friends of mine. I remember a jack of spades and an 8 of diamonds at about 1 o'clock in the afternoon. What seemed like a short five minute period was the scariest 13 hours of my life. Of course, I didn't know it at the time.When I awoke, I was on the floor of a tent, not mine by the way, soaking wet, in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Keep in mind I had jeans on, last I knew. My head was buzzing, and I felt hammered from the effects of the alcohol. When I finally found enough energy to stand, I stumbled out of the tent and over to the campfire where some friends were having a few beers. After getting the quiet stare from them as I approached, I thought maybe a ghost was behind me. Little did I know the ghost was me. Upon finding out that it was now after 2 a.m. and I had passed out, I realized that I just experienced my first black out.The following morning I decided to get a fresh start on the weekend I had already put a damper on. Walking through the campgrounds, I noticed that every person I passed asked if I was ok, or stated that I looked better, or just started laughing altogether. When I got back to the tent, I explained how the entire campground was acting weird, and that's when I found out what happened. Apparently my friends, seeing me start to convulse to the effects of consuming too much alcohol in such a tiny period of time, decided that the best thing to do was to run me across the campgrounds to the public bathhouse, strip me down, and soak me in a nice ice cold shower. Well, that explains waking up soaked, I say, not realizing yet that the entire campground filled with over 200 teenagers were the audience to me being doused in my birthday suit. My friends, yes I still refer to them as friends, decided that since I looked like I was still alive, they removed me from the shower, and threw me in a nearby tent face down, as I could not stop vomiting. Standing there in disbelief, I deny the whole thing, until I was made aware that one of my dear friends had a camera, and lucky for me there was a one hour photo shop down the street. After flipping through dozens of pictures showing me vomiting, tripping over people's tents, sucking down beers, passed out on the ground, and of course me in the shower, I knew I had no basis to deny a thing. Thankfully this was before the age of the internet, and these pictures rest securely with my best friend.Needless to say, I took the rest of the weekend easy. I found out later I most likely had alcohol poisoning. As much as my friends have helped contribute to one of my most embarrassing moments in history, I can honestly say that they were responsible for saving my life.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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