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Alright people, I realize that it has been forever and a day since I’ve last blogged (literally) and I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart. I could come up with a whole litany of excuses as to why I haven’t typed any words in this word box thingy for the better part of three months, but most of them would probably be untrue and unconvincing, so what’s the point of even trying to come up with any? I’ll just make amends by posting this monster list of 69 New-fuckin’-Year’s resolutions for you’ll to chew on. How many other blogs out there in the cyberworld would provide you with this many resolutions, goals, hopes, dreams and pie-in-the-sky aspirations for 2009? That’s right, none of them would. Just me. So here you are, faithful readers, and here’s hoping to considerably more blog entries courtesy of The Crain Train in 2009.

69 New Year’s Resolutions For The Year of Our Lord, 2009 A.D.

1. Sleep in later. No more of this getting up at the crack-of-dawn nonsense. It’s not healthy.

2. Add a couple of new restaurants to my fast food lunch rotation. I’d like to see myself eating less Subway and a little more Wendy’s this year.

3. Oh, and some more Pollo Feliz.

4. Shave my beard with an actual razor that has an actual blade at least once without drawing blood and/or crying afterwards.

5. Break the land speed record…for gettin’ in a chick’s pants!

6. Adopt a Palestinian baby and an Israeli baby. Name them Pal and Izzy, respectively.

7. Come up with a new way to resolve long standing geo-political conflicts with some sort of competition involving babies.

8. Finally take that trip to Nigeria that I’ve been planning for the past few years.

9. Invent a Guinness Book of World Records video game.

10. Change my shoelace tying procedure from “over, under, around and through” to “over, under, in and out.”

11. Try to think of the name of the Nickelodeon game show that Mike O’Malley hosted before “Guts.” You know, the one with picto-grams and stuff.

12. Start smoking and then finally quit (and for real this time )

13. Get through at least one article about the AIDS crisis in sub-Saharan Africa without laughing hysterically.

14. Win an old school, one on one, no holds barred, east-side vs west-side rap battle.

15. Discover 40 species of microscopic, algae-dwelling proto plankton.

16. And kill them.

17. Finish at least 2 New York Times crossword puzzles each week.

18. Figure out a way to steal my neighbor’s issues of The New York Times.

19. Finally get out into my workshop and finish the dang entertainment center that the old lady’s been nagging me about.
20. Become a best selling author by learning how to fly-fish and then writing a humorous, anecdotal memoir about how learning to fly-fish is a metaphor for life.

21. Grow eight inches.

22. Write a kid’s movie about talking animals that live on the prehistoric super continent of Pangea.

23. Exercise for 45 minutes everyday after work, completely naked except for wristbands.

24. Put aside $20 from each paycheck to donate to the Ku Klux Klan.

25. Stop peeing in the shower, especially when I’m not taking one.

26. Start dressing in something nicer than just t-shirts and jeans when stalking high school girls.

27. Try harder to say “dork” instead of “dick,” because it sounds funnier.

28. Also “porno” instead of “porn.”

29. Clean out my closet, sell all the stuff that I don’t need or haven’t used for a few years and donate the money to the Ku Klux Klan.

30. Take a speed reading course and read the complete works of William Shakespeare in 25 minutes.

31. Cast an informed and well researched vote in this year’s U.S. Presidential election.

32. Train for the Boston Marathon and run in it while completely drunk.

33. Climb on top of the tallest building in the city and do a back flip off of it.

34. Spend about 5 minutes each night before I go to bed to pray for $40,000 and the power of flight.

35. Submit an entry for the next “Chicken Soup For the Christian Grandmother’s Soul.”

36. Go number 1 in twelve different states.

37. Go number 2 in six different ones.

38. Oh, and some more Del Taco. That stuff is pretty tasty (See #2.)

39. Start researching my family history and genealogy so I can be positively sure that I don’t have a drop of dirty, Lithuanian blood.

40. Enroll in a few night school classes at the community college…or just go on a sorority house panty raid.

41. Finish filling out all the necessary paperwork to legally change my name to Matty B. Exceptional.

42. Buy the lake house that I’ve always wanted and fill it with cocaine and tranny hookers.

43. Coach a basketball team of underprivileged, dyslexic, paraplegic middle school kids.

44. Bone down with each of their mothers.

45. Try to become the first person from Missouri to win the Nobel Prize…for gettin’ in a chick’s pants!

46. During a two week span, eat nothing but Hostess brand Chocolate Pudding Pies.

47. Get my ride “pimped,” my truck “tricked” and my house “flipped.”

48. Do some science experiments and see if I can’t find a cure for either rabies or scabies.

49. Stop what I’m doing whenever I see a school bus hurtling down the street out of control and save all the children that aren’t ugly.

50. Bone down with each of their mothers.

51. Overcome my debilitating speech impediment and record a Grammy winning duet with Chingy.

52. Try to get out of the house a little more often so I can go on a worldwide search for a lamp containing a sexy genie.

53. Adopt a dog from a Greyhound rescue service, dress it up in a tiny dog tuxedo and make it be my butler.

54. Make more of an effort to get involved in hilarious japery and/or tomfoolery.

55. Organize a local group of political activists to get all those damn Whigs and Free Masons out of city council.

56. Take a much needed break from my job as a trucker, make amends with my estranged son and win the national arm wrestling championship.

57. Stop neglecting my aging grandmother so I can horn in on some sweet inheritance action.

58. Bone down with her Hispanic nurse.
59. Work my way up the National Scrabble rankings, make it all the way to the finals and then play the word “BONEDOG.”

60. Re-watch Jurassic Park 2. Maybe it’s not as bad as I remember.

61. Start saving some money for retirement, put a down payment on a nice home and settle down with one of those San Diego Charger cheerleaders that I’ve been seeing on the TV.

62. Using only elbow grease, hard work and old fashioned American ingenuity, try and find a way to get drunk faster.

63. Rescue a chimpanzee from a zoo and train him to be a Kentucky Derby caliber jockey.

64. Dust off the old cam-corder and try to get myself on “America’s Funniest People.”

65. Actually take a stance for once in my life and speak out against the senseless genocide currently going on in Rwanda.

66. Become left-handed.

67. That episode of “Walker Texas Ranger,” where Walker needs to thwart a terrorist attack so he visits a kooky old inventor and then uses a jet pack to get to the top of a roof, I want to do that.

68. Get myself into good enough shape to make it onto a major league baseball team and then set the single-season record for bunts.

69. Blog more

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Well, I’m not sure if all of you were aware of this, but books are AMAZING things! They can expand your mind, take you to far off lands, make you look a lot smarter than you actually are, help to more evenly distribute the weight in your backpack when you are trying to carry one with a computer in it, give you something to set your beer one when you’re too cheap to buy real coasters, and even teach you things for a few minutes until you get completely destracted by the television and forget everything that you just read because odds are you probably weren’t really paying attention anyway. But now, books can do another thing: unite people! It’s become quite the rage now for city and state governments as well as libraries of all sizes to try and get all of their literate constituency to vote on a book and then, (get ready for it,) READ it together! What a brave and noble experiment. Imagine, a whole city immersed in the taut, air-craft carrier themed dramas of Clive Cussler. Or a whole office not talking about assinine things they watched on the television while standing around the water cooler, but instead discussing the bestselling memoir of a young college student struggling with an eating disorder who will six months later appear on “Tyra” and admit to making it all up. Or even imagine how grand it will be when an entire state buys a copy of Janet Evanovich’s newest masterpiece and in turn buys Janet Evanovich a fifth home. Even my great state has dipped it’s proverbial paws into the proverbial kettle and introduced the One Book AZ. I voted for The Oatman Massacre!

Well, folks, I think that this is just the just the thing for this here blog, so I’ve decided to jump on board (or jump on the “tracks” as it is.) What better way to bring my legion of readers together by letting them all vote on a book and then promptly forget about because they want to look up some new porno?

So I welcome all of you to keep reading and help me decide which book we will all be devouring in “The Crain Train’s Reading Lounge”. I’ve picked out four absolutely delicous pieces of literature which cover the entire gamut, from non-fiction all the way to fiction (ok, not really that big of a gamut.) Anyways, here are the nominees:

1. Why Cat’s Paint

Talk about expanding your mind, prepared to get completely freaked the F out after reading just a few pages of this excellent analysis of the feline asthetic. Busch and Silver, the authors of this groundbreaking tome, provide plenty of pictures and plenty of fantastic insight into not only why cats paint, but how damn cute and funny it is to see a bunch of cats with paing all over their paws. How did they open up those cans of paint!? B. and S. even go as far as to introduce the reader to the 10 most influencial cat artists, and you would be hard pressed to find a more complete collection of paint hastilly scrawled across a refridgerator. Some may consider this book a little to “artsy” or “fartsy” or “complete bullshit” for their taste, but I truely believe that the question of “Why cats paint?” is one of the most important issues facing this world today. And did I mention the litterbox art?

2. The Ski Mask Way

The only novel on this list is sure to be an absoltute delightful read for any lover of American prose. A few years ago, 50 Cent decided to get in the big money game of “urban fiction,” and this novel is one of the absolute best entries in the great poet’s “G-Unit” book series. It tells the chilling and incredibly relatable tale of Seven, an ex-con just out of the clink and facing the harsh reality of having to choose between getting back in the game or living the life of a square. Follow along as Seven shoots, steals, impregnates, uses realistically foul language and talks about Scarface. And don’t think that the excellent narrative of the book is the only reason to read this; nope, the commonplace mis-spellings, the bizarre story structure and seemingly complete disregard for tense and word usage may cause you to question the very notion of editing. As you read The Ski Mask Way, you may just find yourself asking, “Who’s really wearing the mask?” And obviously the answer to that question would be the book’s main character.

3. Black Belt Patriotism

The second non-fiction entry of this list, and I can’t think of a more fitting book to be reading during these harsh economic and politically unstable times. No one can deny that this great nation is way up in the crapper right now, and it seems to me that it is our duty as Americans to listen to Mr. Norris’ suggestions of how we can fix our country’s problems (I’m guessing by punching and kicking things really hard) and how we may just be able to get this land back into the hands of the people by doing things the “Chuck Norris way.” The Texas Ranger campaigned for Mike Huckabee this spring, so I think we can all be quite confident that his stances, veiwpoints and suggestions are that of a sane and rational human being. And even if they aren’t, it’s fucking Chuck Norris in a karate stance on the top of some mountain or something. It’s gonna be complete gold!

4. Complete Idiot’s Guide to Slam Poetry

If any of you readers want to learn a fun and exciting new skill, one that will almost certainly get you “snapped” at in unison, then you may want to consider voting for this book. The fast and crazy world of Slam Poetry (bam! slam!) isn’t for all walks of life, but I’m pretty sure that this bald guy on the cover will be able to guide you through all of the twist and turns and have you performing in front of 12 people in a coffee shop in no time. As I mentioned earlier (I think, I can’t really recall because this post is redonkulously long) books have the power to teach you stuff, and what a fantastic skill Slam Poetry would be to learn. Imagine showing off your new skills at all your family gatherings. “I am AFRICA! SLAM!” Fantastic.

Well, that’s it folks, thems are your choices. What will we all be reading this month? It’s in your hands. And by that I mean make a few comments in the designated “comment” section below and then don’t ever mention it again. Lord knows that I wont.

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June 30th, 1991

(Green Hill Zone Act II)

Dear Diary,

It’s been 3 days now since I first entered this “zone” of lush hills and emerald-colored forests and I still as of yet know not why I am here or even how I came to be placed upon this perilous isle.  The dangers that I haved encountered here have been quite vexing and of a nature that a simple hedgehog like myself could not have dreamed of in even one thousand lifetimes.   Hovering mechanical dragonflies, crab-like robots and even computer programmed primates are all commonplace in this bizzarre land.  And while they have proven to be no real match for my blazing speed or my nimble “spin-dashing,” I fear that challenges of a much more dangerous nature lay ahead of me, although at this point there is quite little that I can be certain of.

Along the way I have inadvertantly managed to liberate several birds, squirrels and other tiny critters who were entombed in the aforementioned mechanical baddies and I have heard many utter the name of “Doctor Robotnik.”  As far as if the person that they speak of is a benevolent healer or a mad genius, I do not know, and I dare not venture a guess at this stage of the game.  But I have made it a goal to someday meet this Doctor, and with some luck he may be able to answer my quandries and perhaps aide in my escape of this strange land, although only time will tell.

Perhaps this Doctor Robotnik values the gold rings that I have collected over the past few days, and maybe he will trade me his knowledge for these tangible treasures?  I would love to write more of this zone’s perplezxing geograpic features, such as it’s pieces of giant looping terrain, it’s platforms that seem to be floating back and forth on thier own free will and even the rocks with springing devices affixed to them.  But, alas, the sun is waning and I shant leave myself unsheltered through the night.  Perhaps, God-willing, I will survive long enough to transcribe my adventures in this crudely made logbook once again.

Godspeed,

S.the H.

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As even a novice to the sport of Based-Balls knows, “hitting for the cycle” is the rare feat of an individual player hitting a single, a double, a triple and (you guessed it) a homerun all in the same game. But what if, as my friend and fellow bloggerator once posited, you could hit for the “sex cycle”? Instead of trying to achieve 4 different types hits, you try to bed 4 different races of lady. And much like the 9 inning constraint of a Major League Baseball game (gives or takes,) you also have to accomplish this formidable goal within a set boundry of time (perhaps all in the same day?) As those who know me can attest, I’m crazy for the P.T., but even with my voracious sexual appetite, the most I’ve ever done in a day is knock a single (and many of those are arguably cases of me “reaching on an error.”) But this is the internets, where a man can live out his wildest fantasies without reproach, so please allow me to share with you how I envision hitting for the sex cycle.

For this exercise, I’ve adopted the following scale:

-Single = White Gal
-Double= Mamita Latina
-Triple = Asian Honey
-Donger = Nubian Princess

Note: The value I’ve assigned each race is not a statement on which I prefer (The Crain Train finds all women of all races and ethnicities to be equally beautiful, except Lithuanians) but is instead based solely on rarity of boning down with each.

Also for this exercise, to keep with the baseball analogy, I’m adopting the form of Wade Boggs:

Top of the 1st

The night has just begun and I find myself leading off. I know I should let a few go by to get a better idea of what I’ll be facing over the course of the evening, but I’m ancy to get going. I take a swing at the first thing I see that looks hittable, and while it’s not the prettiest pitch, it’s definitely something I can handle. I don’t make great connection, but I’m able to sneak one up the middle and get the evening off to a fast and productive start:

SINGLE!

Top of the 3rd

It’s the second time through the order and I’m very confidant up in the batter’s box. This time around it’s not quite so easy, as I have to fight off several really nasty ones with a lot of movement. A few come my way that look tempting at first but end up being way too low in the strike zone for someone with my picky eye to offer at. Then I’m given a gift: a fat, juicy one headed right down the middle, just begging to be stroked. The pitch is moving fast, but that’s just the way I like it, and there is no way this one is getting by me. I put out the lumber and deposit a deep one:

DOUBLE!

Top of the 6th

I’m up again and now I’m really feeling it. On this night it seems that I can get my wood on anything I want, and so far the results have been Hall Of Fame material. Now I’m squaring up against the relief corps and getting a good look at some brand new pitches. I don’t have much experience with what’s being offered to me, but I feel just too damn comfortable inside the box to call it a night and hit the showers. I lay off of a spitter and let a big hooker go right by me, but then I finally get the big change-up that I’ve been waiting for. I muscle up, strike quick, find a gap and find myself in a perfect position to score:

TRIPLE!

Top of the 9th
It’s getting late in the evening and although I’ve already done enough tonight to be named Player of the Game, I’m dying to get up just one more time, completely unload and score again. I dig in and realize that I’m all out of sexually-oriented baseball double entendres. The pitcher is beautiful and she throws me a big, easy sex ball. I’m naked at the plate and literally begin to make sweet love. Something else happens with a big stick, an orgasm, a foul ball and a long donger.

HOMERUN!

Well folks, that’s how I see this whole “cycle” business going down. Feel free to imagine how your very own version of hitting for the sex cycle would transpire. And if your not a baseball fan, try for the “sex triple-double,” the “sex hat-trick” or maybe even the “two fat ladies.” If you can do it in sports, you can do it under the sheets!

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Ooh, boy! 25 years young and thankful for every single day so far, except for the one where I got poison oak and threw up from eating too many PB & J’s all in the same afternoon, and also maybe the one where my mom didn’t let me go and see Robocop 3 in the movie theater even though I had watched the second one on tape and it was totally fine (thanks a lot, mom!) Man, I’ve really gone through a lot in these first 25 anos. Many friends have been gained, then lost, then gained again because they got a Sega Genesis for Christmas. Countless lessons have been learned, the vast majority of them pertaining to fast food restaurants and how to effectively utilize their dollar menus (try hitting two in the same day, folks!) Literally hundreds of cans of delicious Busch Beer have been poured down the old gullet, with hundreds more having been sacrificed to many scenic Missouri rivers. All in all, it’s been a wild ride, and I wouldn’t trade any of my experiences for anything in the world, except for perhaps a large sum of money and a San Diego Chargers cheerleader, then I would trade them in a hummingbird’s heartbeat.

But when a man hits his quarterlife, he starts to do a lot of thinking, particularly about the future and what he may like to accomplish, particularly in the next quarter (of his life.) It’s at this point that things are going to really start changing, where life gets a whole lot more serious and a whole lot more real. While I feel I’ve done a lot of great and important things over the course of my first 25 years (like when I got ESPN for free one time just by jiggling around an old cable wire and an A/V channel switcher,) the goals I set for myself and the lifestyle decisions that I make until the time I hit midlife are going to be the ones that really shape who I am. Please allow me to share with you a few of these things:

Own a Moped

Dudes, this just seems like a really easy decision to make. A moped fits the lifestyle and the needs of a quarterlifer to an absolute “T.” It’s financially and environmentally sound, which are two things that a quarterlifer definitely needs to be concious of. It is perfect for driving to work, and as a responsible quarterlifer, you can bet that I have a job. I could also easily take it to the supermarket and put some fresh fruits and vegitables and some nice cuts of lean beef in its handy storage space, because let’s face it, I’m a quarterlife old now, and I don’t need to be eating fast food all the damn time anymore. And who knows, maybe sometime soon I’ll have a few little quarterlifers of my own running around, and what better way to spend some quality time with dad then to zoom around on the old moped? Yep, I definitely need to by one of these things.

Date a Black Girl

Again, not a difficult decision for a rational, intelligent quarterlifer to make. I’ve 25 years of life experience and if I’ve ever harbored any prejudices against people of a different “flavor” then they should all be forgotten by now (except ones about Lithuanians, the are idiots.) As a quarterlifer, I’m not to old for younger people to still be looking up to me, and I’m not to young for older people to cast away all of my actions as pre-quarterlife childishness. Because of this, I really think it’s important to give off an air of quarterlife tolerance and diversity, and what better way to do this than to bone down with a black chick? Dating a black girl would also help me gain some much needed street cred, and in this modern world, a quarterlifer can take all of the cred he can get. Also, I must say that I really do like my women like I like my coffee: hot, black, early in the morning and served in a mug.

Eat More Paninis

Come on guys, Panini just screams out “Quarterlife.” I mean, it’s grilled, buttery Italian breads, succulent meats and cheeses, crisp veggies, delicious dijon and ranch dressing; what quarterlifer in his or her right mind wouldn’t love to chow down on one of these things everyday for lunch? Sure, regular old sandwiches are good, but a little kid can make and enjoy a sandwich. A panini takes the astute tastebuds and cool sensibilities of a someone who has lived for at least a quarterlife to truely enjoy and understand. Going to a deli and ordering a panini will definitely help me get entrenched in the daily life of a “quarty,” and it’s gonna taste pretty damn good too.

Well, those are just a few of the important life decisions that I’m going to hopefully be making in the coming years. I’ve got plenty more ideas, but I don’t want to share all of them with you; some of you quarterlifers out there are going to figure some stuff out on your own.

One Quarterlife down and here’s to at least 3 more!

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A newborn baby comprised not of flesh and blood but of words and ideas has been birthed into the blogsphere.

An infant genius of unfathomable acumen, morality, humor and intelligence has been released and allowed to blossom amongst the internets.

A living, breathing, malleable blog-being with novel ideas, fresh perspective, biting wit and a scathing tongue will now run free within and forever change the World Wide Web.

A bored dude who steals his neighbor’s wireless connection will occasionally post some shit for his 12 friends.

The Crain Train is coming through, get on board, ya’ll.

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