A Perfect Day

I want you all to take a moment to try and think of the best time of your life. Take as much time as you need. For some of you, this may be a fairly easy exercise; your mind will jump instantly to your wedding night, or to the birth of your child, or to that time you walked in on Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis getting their Black Swan on in your bedroom (what do you mean it was just a movie!?). For the rest of us, however, it isn't so simple trying to single out a "best time". Sure, we can think of times we had fun—be it on a vacation in Mexico or a night out with the boys—but more often than not it's difficult to pin down a single day that really stood out above the rest.

That doesn't mean it won't ever happen, of course. At some point, we'll all experience it; it's inevitable. It could be tomorrow or it could be ten years from now, but the fact remains that each of us will eventually have one of these amazing days, the kind where you can't help but step back and reflect on it even as it's happening. The kind where you're eating lunch in the break room at work the next day smirking like an idiot and nobody has any idea why. I had one of these days myself just last week, and I'm man enough to admit that I've been smirking like an idiot ever since.

The last time I can remember having a day like this, the time that made me realize it was even possible, was at my buddy Mitch's wedding. The entire day was unforgettable, filled with great people, great food, and great times (and of course an endless supply of alcohol from the open bar). I was surrounded by all my best friends and a lot of our families. I got to ride in a party bus drinking champagne and have my picture taken on a bridge and a playground. I got to wear a stupid hat and party-boy the bride. I got to take a shuttle to a hotel and keep the party going for most of the night. It was honestly an incredible day, and it was the first time in my life I can ever remember waking up in the morning and being depressed at how good a time I'd had. I was convinced I'd never be as happy as I'd been in that moment, like I'd seen the top of mountain so to speak and would never be able to get there again. I was wrong.

Did I mention I got to wear a baller tuxedo?

Now for those of you looking for specifics, you can go ahead and stop reading now. The people involved know who they are and exactly what went down, and that's for us to share. As much as I'd like to shout it out to the world, to explain in intimate detail exactly how amazing this day was, there's just something special about it being ours alone. So, for the rest of your, I offer a consolation of sorts. I offer you the fragmented mural of my perfect day. Like that awesome dream you can never seem to fully remember, it contains pertinent moments and memories from throughout the day, and you're free to use your imagination to piece them together any way you'd like.

In fact, here's a fun thought: I'll offer $10 to anyone who thinks they can accurately construct my day from the following pictures and snippets, and another $10 to whoever comes up with the most creative story. Post your guesses in the comments below or send them to me on twitter (@NateCalvanese). I wish you all your own perfect day in the near future. Let the games begin!
-Nate

Fragmented mural of my perfect day (in no particular order).

 

 

Day by Day Snowmageddon - Part 3

(Below is a parody based on J.L. Bourne's Day By Day Armageddon series. For the first two parts, use the Blog Archive to the right.)

Sunday, February 10, 2013

10:47pm EST

I can't quite seem to catch my breath. I've been running for the better part of the day, fleeing from figures and shadows I'm not certain even exist anymore. This time yesterday I was so sure, so steadfast in my beliefs. I knew what I knew, and no one could convince me otherwise. It was the Canadians and it was the Monsters, but more specifically it was my ex-partner Coal. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I had evidence, intel. I thought I had facts. But it doesn't take much to see now that I didn't really have shit. Then again, I'm still running, aren't I? So I guess that means part of me still believes. Nevertheless, I'm starting to doubt everything I've come to know these past few days. Why would the Monsters bring this storm down? Why would they want to kill our operatives? What would that gain them?

Nothing, a voice whispers from the back of my mind. It would gain them nothing, I've been saying that for a while now. I can't help but agree, even as my feet continue to urge me forward.

I don't know where I'm running, though I do recall the sun setting at my back so I must be headed East. There's an old Ops safe house out by the Mohegan Sun Casino in Uncasville, somewhere below the main floor's security vault. There might be a weapons cache there. Not a bad idea, even if it's all in my head. Guess at least I have a plan now. -Nate


Monday, February 11, 2013

1:55am EST

I've made it to the casino safe house. I didn't have much trouble getting past security, as the requirements for entry in a place like this are often as simple as some identification and a few cryptic codewords. The place is deserted and looks like it has been for some time. Still, I can't help but feel like I'm being watch.

No, you're not being watched, relax. Everything's fine. You're safe here, just like you were safe in the last place. The words seem to echo in my mind.

Maybe I should lie down for a bit. -Nate


5:21am EST

My breath explodes from my lungs as I'm jolted awake by the impact. Immediately, I'm on my feet, circling my attacker. Coal. I never should've doubted myself. It was him, it was always him. Before I can think, he's on me, the soft padding of his paws smacking into my chest as he knocks me down to the ground.

Wait, paws? No, that isn't right... Yes it is, Nate...
 
His hot breath spills over me as he pants in my face, licking his chops excitedly as if he were ready to take a bite out of my face. I put up my hands to defend myself, pressing against his weight as best I can. I'm no match for his strength. Slowly, he pushes forward, and then...he licks me.

What the hell?

He licks me again, his rough dog tongue lapping playfully at my cheek.

Dog tongue? Lapping playfully? What is this? What the hell is happening? All too quickly, it becomes clear to me, courtesy of the quiet voice in the back of my mind: He's a dog, dude. He's your dog. He's live with you for years. 

And the storm!? The conspiracy!? The Canadians!?

You live in New England; sack up. There isn't some grand conspiracy cooking every time it snows. That's just kinda how weather works here, so it's probably time you got used to it. As for your last question, I honestly have no idea where the Canadian thing came from...

When in doubt, blame Canada?

Fair enough. 

Just like that, I break free from the spell and see myself as I really am: a guy bored during a snowstorm hanging out with his dog. Hammer and Holy weren't dead; they didn't exist. Neither did headquarters, neither did the safe house, and neither did the Monsters (super original name by the way, man). All that truly existed was the time passed by writing these entries. Oh, and this freak of nature:

The face of a killer.

All in all? Worth it.

Signing out for good,
Nate

Day by Day Snowmageddon - Part 2

(Below is a parody based on J.L. Bourne's Day By Day Armageddon series. For part 1, use the Blog Archive to the right or visit: http://nathancalvanese.blogspot.com/2013/02/day-by-day-snowmageddon-part-1.html)


Friday, February 8, 2013

11:53pm EST
I've been off the grid for the past fifteen hours or so now, and with good reason. Over the course of the day, what began as an already significant winter storm has transformed into a fierce and unrelenting blizzard, code named Nemo. Nemo. It's the only thing I've heard over the radio waves the past twelve hours. Nemo. How that word has come to haunt me...

The Canadians are behind the storm. Of this, I'm now sure. Who else could have come up with such a non-threatening name? Who else would be so cruel as to disarm us before sending a viscious blizzard to our doorstep? I can't help but think of my ex-partner Coal. Could he really be involved in this? Could I have really been so blind all this time? A transmission from an old Spec Ops buddy last night has heightened my suspicions, as he made mention of a rogue sect of Canadian terrorists known as the Monsters. It's hard to admit, but Coal does fit the profile. The Monsters are known to be exceptionally skilled at infiltration, so it wouldn't have been all that difficult for him to get a job at headquarters. Fooling a seasoned operative such as myself would've been a little more tricky, but not impossible. I can only hope that it's all in my head. -Nate

P.S. Hammer and Holy, stay safe out there, brothers. Keep your eyes to the North. 


Saturday, February 9, 2013

8:13am EST
All hell broke loose this morning. Nemo took a drastic (albeit not unexpected) turn for the worse, slamming the entire Northeast with heavy snowfall and blustering winds. Despite predictions, 18-24" in Connecticut became upwards of 3 feet in many areas. The safe house I've been holed up in was pounded by 3 feet exactly, trapping me and my compatriots here for the foreseeable future. No matter. This will give me more time to continue my investigation. So far, I feel confident in painting Canada as the perpetrator and Connecticut as the target. The 'why' is still a mystery to me, as is the involvement of any of my peers. At least the storm seems to be dying down finally, and with minor casualties. As far as attacks go, this was pretty weak...more evidence that Canada is to blame. I'll check back when I know more, Nate.

3:44pm EST
Hammer and Holy are dead. I don't know how it happened. One second I had them on comms and the next they were just...gone. KIA according to sources at headquarters. KIA? How is that possible if they were locked down in the snow just like me? How could they be "Killed in Action" if there was no action? I can only assume there is something headquarters isn't telling me. I need to dig deeper. I need to find out what happened...

Wait. What if this was the plan all along? Think about it. What if the storm was all just a cover? What if they were using the distraction of snow to separate and isolate their real targets: namely Hammer and Holy at this point. Rumors have potentially one or two more operatives dead, though headquarters hasn't made that official yet. Four men down in a span of 4 hours, following a mysterious storm with ties to Canada and the Monsters? It can't be a coincidence. There's something more going on here. And I'm gonna find out exactly what is it. -Nate

 
5:19pm EST
Coal is here. I don't know how he found me or what he wants, but he's here. There's no time to think about it. I have to go. Special operatives have been dropping like flies since the storm hit. I'm not planning on being the next one. My fellow hideouts should be safe so long as they stay out of Coal's way. I can't believe he's with them. I can't believe he'd do this. My partner, all those years...a Monster? No, no time to dwell on it. Gotta run. -Nate






 



    

 

Day By Day Snowmageddon - Part 1

(The below is a parody of J.L. Bourne's Day by Day Armageddon series. For zombie buffs out there, this is a must read. Seriously, check it out right now.)

Wednesday, February 6, 2013 

10:01am EST
High volume of chatter on Facebook this morning  regarding the possibility of a snowstorm in the coming days.The claims are unsubstantiated as of yet. Will investigate further. This journal will serve to track my findings as well as document any event that may occur. As of now, I'm as much in the dark as anyone else.Will report back when I hear more. -Nate


5:21pm EST
Sources at weather.com confirm earlier reports of a possible snowstorm, putting our risk of snowfall above 90%. Current estimates show Oxford receiving roughly 4-6" of snow. No big deal. New England sees greater totals pretty much every year and has already surpassed that number on at least one occasion this winter. I see no reason to continue documentation. Signing off, Nate.


Thursday, February 7, 2013

11:13am EST
BREAKING NEWS: An increase in Facebook chatter this morning prompted me to revisit my sources at weather.com, and the results were harrowing to say the least. Weather experts have broken snowfall projections out into striations, with each strip or zone representing a different amount of snowfall. The zones are fairly parallel, with one alarming exception: a single, thin strip reaching out from the heavy projection areas of Vermont and New Hampshire down through Massachusetts into Connecticut. The very tip of this strip, somehow, manages to cover Oxford, shifting our projection from 4-6" to 6-12".     

Something about the shape of the anomaly seems off to me, but I can't quite place what it is. Right now, all I know for sure is that I was wrong to dismiss the storm so quickly. Later on tonight, I plan on bunkering down at headquarters with my partner Coal and prepping myself for the coming days. It's still possible the storm could turn out to be weaker than what's being predicted, but I feel we'd be better off not taking any chances. Better to be safe than sorry, right? -Nate 


6:39pm EST
It's only taken me a half-hour of research back at headquarters to start piecing together what's going on here. Since my last entry, the rogue strip reaching down from the north has strengthened it's foothold in Connecticut, boosting snowfall projections from 6-12" to 18-24". Needless to say, that ominous feeling I felt when I first saw the strip has intensified, fueling my curiosity beyond just cursory monitoring. I feel the need to dig deeper, to figure out what exactly it is that seems so out of place about the random stretch of heavy snowfall that's invaded our state. Looking closer, I can begin to make out the pattern, the distinctive shape that'd originally grabbed my attention. Could it be? Dusting off some old medical books on human anatomy, I can see my conclusion holds weight. 

The oblong strip, the rogue zone if you will, bears the shape of a fist and middle finger extending down from Canada into our tiny state. Is it possible the Canadians have something to do with this? Could they have found a way to force the storm to our doorstep? Are they merely protecting themselves? I'll have to investigate further. All I know for sure is that something is very off about this sudden snowstorm. And I intend to get to the bottom of it. -Nate


11:12pm EST
Haven't found anything yet to help substantiate my theories. Will try more in the morning. For now, I plan on getting a good night's sleep and preparing myself for what's coming in the morning. It's supposed to start early. We'll see. Either way, I'll be here, and I'll be ready. Signing off for now, Nate.



Friday, February 8, 2013

7:34am EST
Chaos. Panic. I awake to a buzzing phone and the deafening patter of snowfall. Something isn't right. It wasn't supposed to start this soon. Ripping myself out of bed, I stumble over to the nearest window and witness for myself the airy assault. Snowflakes fall in every direction, tiny and white, drifting down from the clouds like a billion little bombs. They've already covered the roads with a quarter-inch coat of snowfall and are threatening to cover the grass as well. My phone buzzes again.

I rush to my bed to answer it, and the voices at the other end urge me to abandon my post. My eyes drift over to my trusted partner Coal as I listen. He seems oddly at ease at the sight of the storm. In fact, he almost seems happy, excited even... Is it possible that he could be in on this? Could my own partner be working with the Canadians? There's no time to waste in finding out. Headquarters is comprised, whether Coal is connected or not; the voices on the phone are quite convincing of that. They tell me I have to get out of here, that I have to find my way to safety. They send me details of a safe-house before hanging up the phone.

Before I can think, I'm racing for my car with my pack of gear slung over my shoulder. I turn the key and suddenly I'm in the thick of it, fluffy whiteness all around me like a smothering swarm of mallow. I can't let it deter me. I have to get out. And so I do, screeching out into the road before slamming on the accelerator. The last thing I see before I go is Coal stepping out from the headquarters, a look of devilish joy on his face as the snow falls down around him. And then he's gone.


To be continued....
   
 

The Blackout Bowl and the Return of Papa Nizz

The last post I left on this blog was a preview of the Giants-Patriots Superbowl from last year. That's a full twelve months without activity. For those wondering: no, I did not go into a self-destructive tailspin after watching Eli Manning win his second Superbowl MVP in five years, nor did I slide into a crippling depression after the Eagles only won four games this year. I've simply been busy with work and life (weak excuse, I know), and haven't had the time to give this thing my full attention, which is something that's important to me. No one wants to read one post a month or anything like that. Ideally, I'd like to be able to post something every day, but I'm not sure how realistic that is. For now, I'm planning on trying to get something up here every couple days or so, so stick with me people. Papa Nizz's Story Corner: Take Two!

OMG he's back!!!

Since my last post was about the Superbowl, I figured it'd only be right for my first post back to cover the Superbowl as well. This year's game, as anyone who watched knows, was pretty awesome, even without a true rooting interest. Either team could've won and I would've been fine with it. Basically, it was the opposite of last year, when I was rooting for a third team to inexplicably show up at half-time, rush the field, cash in the NFL version of the Money in the Bank briefcase from pro wrestling, and win the title themselves. If only Vince McMahon ran the NFL, right? A guy can dream...

 

Anyway, I was stuck with the Ravens and Niners, two teams that I honestly had no problem with. So how did I decide who to root for? Simple, I used math...or more accurately a combination of math and self-delusion. But mostly math. Now follow my logic here: the Eagles beat the Ravens in week 2 of the season, clearing proving they were the superior team. So if the Ravens were to beat the Niners and win the Superbowl (becoming the alleged "best team in the league") then, by the transitive property, the Eagles would end up the top team in the whole NFL instead of, you know, the fourth worst. In the words of White Goodman: ipso facto...we're the champs. That, combined with the chance to tease my buddy Tmo (a diehard Steelers fan), made the choice an easy one for me. For one night, I was a Ravens fan.   

 

Things looked good for the first 31 minutes of the game, as the Ravens raced out to a 28-6 lead on the first play of the second half. After that, things got weird. First, the power went out in half the stadium (New Orleans revenge on Roger Goodell?), leaving the CBS crew and sideline reporters to fumble their way through a half hour of dead airtime. Then, minutes before the blackout ended, coach John Harbaugh was shown laying into a stadium employee or official of some kind while Temper Tantrum Jimmy remained relatively calm (this obviously didn't mean anything, I just thought it was weird that big bro John would lose his cool while binky-wielding Jim kept it together). Lastly, the Niners went on a 23-3 run after the blackout ended to bring the score within 2, prompting the normal media nutjobs to start screaming words like "conspiracy" and "asterisk" as if the Niners had purposely concocted some diabolical scheme to stop the Ravens momentum.

 

For a moment, I felt the Eagles title chances slipping away. I could barely believe the Ravens would ruin this for them. It just seemed like such a selfish, childish thing to do. Apparently, the Ravens players agreed, because they mananged to pull themselves together to get the 34-31 win, with or without an assist from the officials, depending on what team you were rooting for.   

 

What's that, Jimmy? You don't agree with the call?

Just like that, the Ravens were Superbowl champions, and, by the transitive property, the Eagles were something more. Ipso facto...we're the champs. Delusional? Maybe. Logical? Yes. Will I be holding my own parade in Oxford this weekend? Yes. Aside from that, was it a great game? Definitely.

 

Thanks for stopping in people!

-Nate



 

 

 

 





Giants vs. Patriots II: Well, Shit…

Now that I’ve had a couple weeks to cool off a bit from the Conference Championship games, I think it’s time to talk a little bit about what went down and what we can expect from our Superbowl matchup this Sunday. Let me preface this by saying that I have no allegiance to either team; far from it. In fact, if I could pick any two teams in the league that I absolutely would NOT want to see in the Championship Game, it would probably be the Giants and the Patriots (with the Cowboys/Jets coming in a close third/fourth). Alas, football is as much a game of luck and momentum as it is a game of skill (a fact that truly kills me sometimes), and someone has to win. Unfortunately, my gut is telling me that that someone will probably be our dreaded NFC East Rivals, the New York Giants.

Signs the Mayans were right: This guy may have two rings by this time next week.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan (2012 here we come!), and as such have had the pleasure (or maybe more appropriately, the discomfort) of following Eli Manning and the Giants over the years. As bad as I’ve seen them play, and as incompetent as they can seem at times, it’s hard not to admit that they always seem have some sort of divine force on their side that pulls them through at the most crucial of times. When the Eagles stormed back from their 1-4 start this year to threaten for the NFC East crown, Eli and company ran through the Jets and Cowboys (both on convenient downswings) like a buzzsaw, propelling themselves into the playoffs and gaining the confidence needed to make a deep run. When finally matched up with a team just as physical as them in the 49ers, Special Teams blunders and missed opportunities helped them move on. The ball just seems to bounce their way at times, simple as that, and as horrible as it is to watch a 9-7 team that I don’t personally find all that talented get a chance to compete in the Superbowl, that’s just the way this game works sometimes. You can’t get as far as they have without some amount luck on your side. If you don’t believe that, just look at the Patriots.

The Patriots season has been even more confusing for me to try to follow than the Giants. At times, they seemed dominant, and yet, at others, soft and untalented. Their division, which looked to be one of the best in football at the start of the season, ended up being a bunch of creampuffs. Looking at the journey they’ve taken to get to this point, I don’t think I can say I’ve ever seen an easier path to the Championship. The Patriots played five games against winnings teams all season and won only one of them: the AFC Championship game against the Ravens, with a little help from Billy Cundiff (who I fully expect to end up missing on the back of a milk carton any day now). The one team that seemed to have their number—the Steelers—were inexplicably defeated by the Being Formerly Known as Tim Tebow. Simply put, a lot of things went right for them to get where they are, despite a porous defense and an abundance of youth. Will that be able to continue against the Giants, who are coming in hot and with a divine grace of their own? I’m not so sure. All I know is that the thought of Julian Edlemen (a converted wide receiver playing the Nickel corner for New England) trying to cover that Salsa-dancing d-bag Victor Cruz (…sorry, inner Eagles fan came out for a moment…) scares the hell out of me. Also, Jason Pierre-Paul is a god damn freak.

Absolutely meaningless predictions:

Final Score: Giants 35 – Patriots 31 followed by:

-One emotional scene of doofy Eli raising the Lombardi Trophy

-One shot of the Giants wide receivers three-way kissing in the end zone (did you see the orgy that almost broke out against the 49ers???)

-One moronic debate over which Manning brother is the better quarterback

-One impossibly sad Nizzlebear

Enjoy the game people!

-Nate

What's So Scary About a Little Rain?

We’re into the second week of January now and somehow it’s still raining up here in good old Connecticut, which means, for those of us unfortunate enough to have significant commutes, we’ve had to endure the phenomenon known as “Scare-of-rain CT Drivers” for about two more months than we’d intended. Frankly, it’s been exhausting.

The worst part of my day is the time I spend trapped in my car, idly making my way to and from work at the speed of a crawling infant, and the last thing I really need is to have that process extended because a bunch of hybrid-driving suburban folks just discovered the concept of weather. We live in New England. This place is famous for its extremes, from blizzards to heat waves, dry spells to hurricanes. Should we really be all that surprised when it tends to rain every now and then? I don’t think so. And yet, still, time and time again I find myself caught in the fallout of this phenomenon, be it accident-induced traffic or just a painfully timid driver, and I can’t help but wonder why. Why does this happen? What goes through people’s heads to make them this way? It’s one thing to be safe, that I understand, but it’s another thing entirely to just suddenly forget how to drive. I want to be able to understand that. I need to be able to understand that, for my own sanity. So I’ve come up with a couple of possible explanations, and I’ll let you fine folks decide which seems the most realistic. As always, more to come after the jump.