Hating Dave Matthews has become as popular as donning a pink Red Sox cap. I have stuck by Dave Matthews Band for over ten years, dozens of live albums, and - as of Satuday night, twenty-five concerts. However, It seems Dave Matthews Band sucks, at least according to every bandwagon-trend fickle-fuck and well, just about anyone who has a friend who loves Dave Matthews. In reality, he only sucks because he is just too fucking awesome for mortals to understand. Only Jesus, Raiden, and The Rocketeer can appreciate him fully. Though I am a mere mortal I do know a bit about the man Dave Matthews, and his awesomeness, and will admit I can’t get enough of him and his accompanying band. And yes, I realize that this makes me a breed of serious cocksucker known as the “intense band fan”. And I am aware an “intense band fan” is the type of person I would normally make fun of on this blog. But if you haven’t caught on by now, I’m a horribly hypocritical person. The truth is Dave is musical marijuana served inside a Chipotle tortilla filled with mint Dibs. Eating such a treat causes nothing short of piss-in-a-pepsi cup in broad daylight euphoria. Though, the same way some Red Sox fans shun the influx of pink cap wearing fans, I like to shun those Dave fans who live by the song “Crash In To Me”, own a hemp necklace, and think Will Farrel is still amusing. Understand that, like with Boston’s pink hats, it’s not so much the objects but what they represent, the whole “Red Sox Nation” concept reminds some people of that other team with a huge fan base and no one wants the Sox to become that, even though it is already too late (I’ll admit I’m part of the problem…).

Too Much: Red Sox fans are suffering from identity crisis and the growing pains of a fan base trying to redefine itself, it is something Dave fans can empathize with. Dave fans have been tormented for over a decade by bearing the load of trendy assholes who for some reason gravitated to DMB. Whether it be Phish fans desperately seeking a new place where “shrooming” among massive crowds is considered acceptable, midlife crisis soccer parents driving their cherry red Sebring convertible in to the show and using VIP parking, or pooka-shelled yuppie hipster fucks bouncing in to the show with their Jimmy Fallon bed-head reeking of Abercrombie stenchs while holding hands with emaciated aviator-wearing girlfriends who like the show “The Hills” - the cycles of these assholes seems to go on perpetually but *true* Dave fans remain loyal despite the bad eggs.

Pink versus Green: I really can’t be all that cocky about my DMB fandom… I haven’t followed a Dave tour with the vigor of many fans, nor have I paid more than 20 bucks for a ticket, and come to think of it I guess I do own a green Red Sox hat… a green hat is almost as bad as a pink hat so my Sox fandom isn’t any better off either. Fortunately, I think I jumped on the Sox bandwagon when there was still a few good seats left on the truck bed and back at that time I received open arms from old school Boston fans willing to add one more sorry sack of shit with a hatred of the Yankees to their fan base- with understanding that a World Series win would never happen. With that comparison, I think I understand my place in the DMB fan continuum… I’m squarely in the Dave Matthews counterpart of the category of “somewhat-legitimate fan but-can-be-dethroned by anyone from Boston”. I am humbled.

Wrapping up a post that clearly is aimed at masking a self proclamation of myself and a trip to a 25th Dave show, I can thank my sister for first subjecting me to Dave in 1994 (via Oakton Toker Team’s spring break drive to Ocean City) and since that first exposure there are certain Dave Matthews Moments which I feel the need to document in no particular order and of no interest to any of the 4 people who read this blog:

1. Is that a manatee? (2001)
Swain and I went to RFK to initially tailgate and ended up trading ciggerrettes and a handful of singles to get in to the show, only to rush the floor and be within 10 yards of the stage. We couldn’t stop raving.

2. Perfect Things (2007)
Dave Matthews + Lane Stadium = Heaven (if it rained Chipotle)

3. Clouds rolled over our heads (2000)
Rained the entire show at RFK and Dave played for four hours causing property value in SE Washington to rise 3%.

4. Swiss Missed (2001)
An illicit night ended with listening to Lillywhite Sessions on the roof of a villa in Switzerland while the sun rose. I lost my left shoe and may have shat in a bidet.

5. Lost Wages (2007)
Two shows back-to-back in Vegas with Katie and Andyman. Itinerary: Gamble, drink frozen 190 proof daquiri, see Dave Matthews, eat breakfast buffet, play horsey game, prostitute, see Dave Matthews, eat live bear.

6. Saturday (2008)
Are we assholes? Lets check the tally - Came to show without tickets? Check. Parked in handicap lot? Check. Refused to pay more than 20 a ticket? Check. Snuck in our own alcohol? Check. Pissed on lawn? Check.

Well back when I graduated from college I was to say the least “out of shape” (a tub of shit if you will) and to counteract the effects of four years of binge drinking and pokey sticks I went on an insane health kick that ended with before and after pics being posted online in the early days of dic tailgate.

As of midnight June 22nd, I have just concluded a second round of lunacy, this time to attempt to remove the damage that State College wreaked upon my body in the form of Lion’s Head beer, Sheetz MTO and those fucking pokey sticks again. My health changes centered around a one-month-long diet that eliminated all saturated fats and sugars from my diet and focused heavily on leafy greens and shockingly NO CHIPOTLE. Though I didn’t stay absolutely 100% true, It was pretty damn close … I think I can excuse that trip to Chipotle and the piece of funnel cake I had in celebration of Manny’s 500th homerun.

As was the practice last time around I will now post the effects of my month of eating rabbit crap. Other than the results shown in the picture I no longer own any shorts that stay on my ass without the use of a belt.

And yes, I will be eating Chipotle for lunch.

Though I have sent this news and accompanying video to many of you, Spore, the video game, is Will Wright’s “Sim Everything” manifesto which has been in the works for nearly a decade. This week a demo of one aspect of the game, Creature Creator, went online for free download. Already people have been giving the game the respect and admiration it deserves…

Eat that Sim Tower.

UPDATE: Apparently theres a video of a Jeff Butt monster which reacts to seeing someone eating his string cheese without asking, and then becomes depressed upon realizing it was the last one in the package.

Getting your post-graduate education force fed to you in thirty-five 4-hour long classes is bad enough, but having to endure a whole new crop of cocksucker students really pours salt in the wound. Though I’m sure every law school has a group of insufferable ego monsters, Barbri found a way to unearth some real county-fair blue ribbon winning fucktards in my class. They are often hard to detect until class begins and then once it does you are perilously trapped in their surrounds having to endure their mouth breathing and cock waves which pierce your brain like fiber optic piss lasers.

For those of you who have any idea what kind of person I am talking about… I know, and I am sorry - it is a nessesary evil to this profession. But for those of you who may find yourself one day in a Barbri class somewhere in the greater Washington DC area you can better know, spot, and avoid these types with my easy to follow illustrations:

In the bad storms that came through Northern Virginia yesterday there was 90 MPH gusts of wind and while I was watching the storm out the garage door we lost one of our proudest trees. I thought the force was worth putting pictures up of.

I’m sure that there are plenty of ‘necks in Vienna who can’t wait to chop this baby up or trade services for a few DIP arrests. To date I don’t think there are any ax-wielding killers on the lose in the area so any trade of service should be on the up-and-up.

I am now a daily commuter on Metro’s Orange Line. I park at Vienna just like all the other Nova-scum that refuses to live closer to the city. I wear a backpack. I am an asshole. But I haven’t fully absorbed the Orange Line’s mentality, not yet at least.

I still find the “Orange Line rider” (Yuppis Assus orung) a spectacle unlike any other breed of prick and I observe the species behavior, take notes on what I see, and make commentary - not unlike Jane Goodall and her apes. To observe and record the Orange Liners more clearly I have outfitted my inconspicuous appearance with cleverly disguised props that are common to the Orange Line rider’s natural enviornment and wouldn’t alert them to my presence.

In my first of many exposes I have decided to share with you the most common things I have heard on a morning/evening rush. Chances are on a 40-minute ride (or roughly 3.70 fare) you will hear at least a half dozen of these idioms:

“We hit our marks for Q2 with our vendor and the client was very happy -so good things will be happening with the metrics for the next release”
“I can’t wait to go see Don’t Mess With The Zohan”
“I can’t believe they ran out of copies of the Pet Lovers Companion”
“My fiancé (insert something nauseating)”
“Is Lululemon still open this late?”
“I’m so glad the city is safe now - isn’t there a Jamba Juice in Tenley Town?”
“Did he just say a train derailed?”
“No one shall ever be good enough to enter.” (from perma-frown’s vagina)
“I have spinning classes so I can’t watch the season finale of Lost”
“Well I know I want to get a Masters because then things will really change!”
“Silver G35 or blue 3-series? I mean, I really want to stand out.”
“He went to Jared”

Next week: Fat to frumpy to deadbeat boyfriends to dead-end careers? Is there a connection to it all?