NYC vs. Rockland

Let’s get it on.

Morning Routine
Wake up at 5:36
Get dressed
Leave house at 6:20

Wake up at 6:42
Make Lunch
See man about a horse
Get Dressed
Leave apartment at 7:30

Edge: NYC. An extra hour of sleep gives NYC an easy win

Leave house at 6:20
Get to mall at 6:30
Bus leaves mall at 6:37
Bus arrives at Tarrytown
Train leave Tarrytown at 7:01
Arrive at GCT at 7:40
Arrive at desk at 7:55

Leave apartment at 7:30
Get to subway at 7:35
Arrive 51st Station 7:45
Arrive at desk at 7:53

Edge: NYC. Do the math.

Post Work Activities
Leave work at 6:00
Catch 6:20 train to Tarrytown
Arrive at 6:55
Catch the 7:05 bus to the mall
Arrive at the mall at 7:35
Arrive home at 7:45
Make dinner
Bed by 10:45
Total hours awake at home: 3

Leave work at 6:00
Get to Subway at 6:10
Get to 96th Street at 6:25
Home by 6:30
Bed at 11
Total hours awake at home: 4.5

Edge: NYC

Rockland: $15
NYC: $23

Edge: Rockland

Rockland: Free
NYC: $2 to wash, $2 to dry

Edge: Rockland

Rockland: Nyack
NYC: Endless

Edge: NYC. Not that I have gone out since I’ve been here other than to watch basketball

CoG Members
Rockland: 5 + Moro
NYC: 1

Edge: Rockland

Rockland: 2005 Honda Civic
NYC: Subway

Edge: Push

Rockland: Yes

Edge: Rockland

Rockland: TERRY!
NYC: Unknown

Edge: Rockland

Things I did today before my roommate woke up
Food shopping
Made French Toast
Did dishes
Watched The Foot Fist Way
Surfed the Web
Played Shaun White for 2 hours
Helped Pops move a bookcase and desk into my room

Final word: I’ve been living in the city for 18 days now. The commute and all the extra time I have on my hands can’t be beat. However, without the CoG members, it is not as fun. Admittedly I am not taking advantage of the other perks of the city. My social ineptitude is keeping me from going out on Friday and Saturday night. I don’t want to be that person that goes out alone looking for people to talk to at bars. Here in the city, my designated driving skills are useless. I have faith that things will turn around, and I definitely dig the city atmosphere. More updates to come. And be sure to check out the twitter. It is updated daily.

AST Dew Tour Photo Essay

All Summer long I have been going to the AST Dew Tour for work. We made stops in Baltimore, Cleveland, Portland (which I missed due to the Olympics), SLC, & Orlando. For those who care, I helped coordinate the International Feed of the event. While the show aired on NBC, it was simultaneously airing on Eurosport and Fox Sports Australia. I helped ensure that they had everthing they needed; Sat. Coordinates, VOD Bonus Material, etc.

That boring stuff being said, here is a brief photo essay of the final stop of the 2008 tour:

BMX Dirt is one of my favorite events. The hotel I stayed at is back right. That is a commute I could learn to love. Not to mention you can go home to take a shize.

Here is the arena setup from the nose bleeds. It didn’t take long to figure out why this section was called the “O-Zone”

Our NBC home away from home. If you call the production manager’s office in NY, the phone rings here. I love how that works.

See Jack’s Production Trailer, straight out of an Ikea catalog.

Production Truck 5 minutes before we are on air. Shockingly also 5 minutes before all hell breaks loose.

I’m not much of an FMX fan anymore, but it is very photogenic…Did I fuck up here?

Guest Post: True Hollywood Prologue

We have a very special post today, written by one half of the most important duo in my life. My Mom!


Those of you familiar with The Rick’s “Running Diaries” won’t be surprised that his first appearance in such a document occurred a quarter of a century ago today. The author of the running diary was his mother (AKA The Mom) and she was recording the momentous occasion of his birth. For many years, it was believed that the original document was lost in “the black hole” sometime in the mid 1980’s. The Rick’s parents, fearing that the story would be lost forever, began an annual ritual known as “The Telling of the Birthday Story”. However, as often happens with oral tradition, the story changed over the years. With age, memories get fuzzy and changes, additions and deletions were common occurrences. Then, shockingly, during the “Telling of the Birthday Story” in 2007, a new character was introduced and The Mom realized the integrity of the story had been jeopardized. Her goal was to find the original diary since this seemed the only way to preserve the sanctity of the original tale. Last week, The Mom’s persistence was rewarded when she found the missing document. FINALLY, after 25 years, the true and unadulterated “Running Diary of the Birth of The Rick” can be told.

(Cue Wayne’s World Flashback Music)
October 9, 1983

12:15 AM
The Mom (hereafter TM) wakes from a fitful sleep to sound of TV blaring.

TM remembers weird dream. She had snake like jaws and swallowed a gargantuan basketball which lodged in her stomach.

No dream. She HAS swallowed a gargantuan basketball.


AHA moment. TM has not swallowed gargantuan basketball. She is pregnant. (Ed. Note: No, there was a basketball in there. I have been training to beat Team Rhody since day -270)


TM successfully waddles to TV. Turns off Season 9 episode 1 of Saturday Night Live hosted by Brandon Tartikoff on NBC. (Ed. Note: I looked up who the hell Brandon Tartikoff was, and it turns out he was a NBC Program Executive who was hired by Dick Ebersol. So basically, asking himself to host SNL was like Jerry Jones telling Wade Phillips that he is going in to kick a game winning Field Goal)

The tyke, disguised as colossal basketball, delivers four vigorous kicks to TM’s internal organs.

TM settles back in bed for much needed sleep

TM wakes to discover:
(1) TV is blaring (Ed. Note: Again? Damn Poltergeists)
(2) Tyke disguised as basketball is using TM’s diaphragm as trampoline..

Bizarre thought: Should TM be concerned about tyke’s meniscus?

TM turns off Madonna music video on MTV (Ed. Note: This used to be my playground or foreshadowing?)

Tyke pummels TM’s spleen or some other vital organ.

TM prays she can get back to sleep

TM wakes to discover … PAIN?

Yes pain

Definitely pain

That felt like pain too

More of same. Seems like 15 minutes apart. What were Dr. S’s instructions again?

TM rolls out of bed and shuffles toward bathroom. Today must be the day. She has been pregnant for 2.5 years.

TM wakes Mr. C and announces it may be time.

Mr. C (groggily): Time for what?

TM is not amused. Next time he can be pregnant.

Realization strikes Mr. C, with such force he bolts out of bed and dresses in 2 minutes 23 seconds

In his haste, Mr. C forgets to don underwear and socks. Car keys in hand, he pushes TM toward door. TM is still in pajamas. Must regroup.

Regroup. Call Dr. S. for instructions. Dr S. says call him back when contractions are 10 minutes apart.

Sure seems like contractions are 10 minutes apart.

Call Dr. S.

Dr. S says:
(1) Go straight to hospital, Do Not pass Go, Do not collect $200
(2) Don’t eat or drink anything.

TM suddenly feels hungry. Curiously, she only has the desire to eat butter. Weird.

En route to Women’s Hospital in NYC. West Side Highway is clear on Sunday morning. Goodie. (Ed. Note: Everything is coming up Milhouse. Apparently the Piccinich Effect is not hereditary…maybe it just skips a generation. Note to self: talk to grandparents)

Check-in. Nurse has instructions to call Dr. S when TM has arrived.

TM Pain check: “This ain’t so bad”

12:12 PM
Dr. S arrives and verifies progress of TM and Tyke disguised as gigantic basketball.

Bad news. Not much progress. Dr. S tells TM to walk around to speed up delivery of Tyke/Basketball

TM walking up and down corridor with Mr. C.

TM walking up and down corridor dragging IV stand beside her. Mr. C cheerfully accompanies her. (Ed. Note: The stereotypical mother-to-be in agony, father-to-be blissfully ignorant and anxious)

More lumbering up and down hospital corridor, dragging IV stand. TM wonders if she has hit the Guinness world record for longest pregnancy in the history of mammals. Mr. C is much too gleeful as he accompanies TM.

On yet another trek up and down the hospital corridor, dragging IV stand, TM is seized by excruciating painful assault on her internal organs. Every single last one of her internal organs. Cheery, dapper Mr. C. smiles at TM and gaily asks “are you alright.”

TM is suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to beat the smiling, sockless, Mr. C with the IV stand. Thankfully, the desire quickly passes and the ever merry Mr. C is safe.. for now.

Dr. S. checks progress of TM and “Tyke who will not be born”

More bad news. Not much progress has been made. Decision is made to administer pitocin- drug to induce labor. Sounds ominous to TM. Jolly Mr. C. pats TM hand. TM snatches hand away.

Drug administered. No more walking required.

Pain check: “Tolerable..”

Dr. S. attaches device to TM belly to monitor heart rate of tyke during contractions

TM tries to nap.

Rumor has it that the visiting area in the hospital is chock full of TM and Mr. C relatives awaiting news from the front. A still gleeful Mr. C departs from TM company with a promise that he will return as soon as he has updated the family with the news that there is yet no new addition to the family.

Pain check: “Ouch”

TM thirsty. Thinks – Bananas, strawberries, sorbet, peaches, berries blended together in a potent and nutritious beverage. What a bizarre and random thought.

Pain check: “Double ouch”


Mr. C. returns from visit with relatives and greets TM with a much too cheery “How’s it going?”

TM slowly spins head 360 degrees, looks directly at Mr. C, who has blanched
considerably. TM says: “#$%$#@^^&* ^& ()_)&^$%#$@#%^ &***&%$##@#!$%”


TM respectfully requests drugs

Dr. S: “Are you sure you would like medication?


Dr. S approves administration of drugs that will numb TM from waist down

TM thought there would be no more pain. HA and double HA.

7:01- 8:00
TM passes time cussing, calling Mr. C all kinds of foul names and exclaiming very loudly “Get this baby out of me” (Ed. Note: I would image TM would also unleash a “you did this to me!”)

Thump, thump of tyke’s heart seems to slow with each contraction.

Dr. S. examines the strip of paper produced by the fetal heart monitor and frowns.

Dr. S. orders another fetal heart monitor to replace the one attached to TM belly.

New monitor is attached to TM belly.

Pain Check: “Good grief how long is this going to last?”

Thump, thump of fetal heart slows (Ed. Note: Hello! Someone get me out of there)

Dr. S examines new strip of paper and frowns again

Dr. S tells TM and Mr. C. tyke may have cord wrapped around neck. Not a good thing.

Decision is made to perform Cesarean-section.

TM crying. Can Mr. C come too? He seems to have forgiven her for the Exorcist imitation and all the nasty things she has called him.

No time for Mr. C to get ready to go into delivery room.

TM cries louder.

TM wailing as she is wheeled down the corridor.

TM deposited into scary delivery room. More tears.

Dr. S performing surgery

Dr. S announces “It’s a boy”

More crying. Happy tears now. TM sure cries a lot.

TM put to sleep to have abdomen sewn.

Dr. S goes to waiting room, seeks out Mr. C and announces “You have a man-child”.
(TM Note: In 2007, the veracity of this was questioned when in the retelling, Mr. C, obviously confused and suffering from the beginnings of Alzheimer’s due to his great advancing age, announced that it was not Dr. S who announced this but some unknown Scandinavian doctor with a very serious Hindi accent. The truth is, Dr. S made the announcement as has been verified and confirmed through video tapes of the hospital waiting room. Therefore, this is the definitive story as it will be told and remembered forevermore. Anyone who tries to change the nationality, accent, name or description of the deliverer of this message shall be punished to the fullest extent of the law.)

Nurse wakes TM and introduces her to her newborn son.

TM thinks “A quien salio ese nene tan blanco y tan chino?” which is Spanish for
“Huh? My baby is white AND Chinese?”

True Hollywood Post Script

I spent much of the morning of October 2 preparing a PowerPoint for a meeting set to start at 1:00 PM ET. As I was handing over the printed version, my cell phone rang. On the other end was Dr. King, the wonderful doctor who performed my surgery the week prior. He said he would like to see me that afternoon in his office for a follow-up visit. I told him I could be there in 5 minutes.

I got to his office at 1:15 and was almost immediately led into a room. The good doctor took a look at my knee and said that it was still swollen, but that he would drain it and things would be all good.

I didn’t like that word too much.

What followed wasn’t the most painful experience of my life, but for some reason, may have been the suckiest. He shoved a needle into my knee and sucked the life force out of me. I could feel him moving the needle around and I tried not to look, to no avail. It looked like this:

When he was done he led me over to the receptionist to schedule a follow-up. The second I stood up the room started spinning. I somehow made it over to receptionist, but was visibly shaken. They asked me some questions which I assume I answered but I couldn’t hear myself talk. The kind doctor gave me some Tic-Tacs and other people pumped me full of chocolate. Five minutes later they asked me if I was good to go yet. I bluntly answered, “No.”

Almost ten minutes later I gimped my way out of the office and straight to Burger Heaven. I made it back to the office around 2:15 as the meeting was getting out. Eager to compare stories of the past hour.

I was in shock for the rest of the afternoon.