Yes Country for Old Men

Where else can you stand next to Donald Trump as he dips a marshmallow into a chocolate fountain at 1pm, and then brush shoulders with Robert Kraft at dinner the night before the Patriots run the table and go 16-0. There are probably a few places this can happen, but one of these places is Palm Beach. In "No Country for Old Men" Tommy Lee Jones felt like he didn't have enough strength to hack it as a sheriff anymore. Well, maybe Mr. Jones, or Mr. Lee Jones, or whatever, should buy a ticket on Jet Blue and come on down to Palm Beach. He could have one of those cushy security jobs at any one of the 40,000 gated complexes/communities down here. My family jokes that when you drive up to one of these complexes/communities you can say "Hi, I'm here to rob the SoandSos", give a little mock salute and a big smile, and 9.9 times out of 10 you'll be let in. I'm pretty sure Tommy Lee Jones could handle that.

"Look at me. I'm the Sheriff of the exclusive Del Boca Vista community"

Why else is Palm Beach great for older men...well, a few nights ago I saw this older gentleman on what looked like a date (of sorts) with a younger woman. The woman was probably in her sixties and was definitely the den mother of the Palm Beach Cougar Den. Anyway, from the body language you could tell dinner wasn't going particularly well. It didn't seem like either of them wanted to be there. But luckily for both of them there was no need to force awkward conversation, and the reason was because the woman had so much collagen in her lips that she needed to use the chicken on the end of her fork in order to jimmy her lips open so she could actually put food in her mouth.

EQUALS



And maybe that was cute when you were 2 years old. But on a sixty year old woman, eh, not so much. Why else is Palm Beach a country for old men...you can wear anything and you nobody will bat an eye. I went to the Polo store on Worth Avenue to find a pair of khakis, and shockingly, or maybe not so shockingly, they didn't have what I call "pants for real people". If you want a pair of red corduroys to go with your lime green linen sport coat and orange loafers, the Palm Beach is the place for you. My point is that Polo can only get away with selling that stuff in Palm Beach and maybe a few other places. You can wear just about any color combination down here and you're safe. If anyone questions you all you have to say is "well Morty, I guess you haven't seen what's new at the Polo store yet", and then just walk off with your paisley chinos, white boat shoes, and red blazer and get some more caviar.

There are a million other reasons why Palm Beach is Yes Country for Old Men. It also has been Yes Country for Young Men like myself. The past week and a half has been a great break from Ann Arbor. I'm starting to wonder whether I should have applied to Palm Beach Community College's MBA program instead. So maybe the major Wall Street firms wouldn't recruit at ol' PBCC, but can you put a price on being able to blog outside in a bathing suit? I'm pretty sure you can't. I feel like I could write some more, but I've got an inny and I'm gathering sweat in my bellybutton which means it's time to shut it down for now.

The next blog will surely be in 2008. Happy New Year.

Purple Stuff

FingertheBlog coming to you from Florida. I'm on vacation and I'm thawing out and loving every minute of it. I spent two productive days in NYC before coming down to Florida, and all I have to do in the next week and a half is drop some resumes and get a tan. I've played some tennis and have gone to the gym, and I'm reading a book...for FUN.

Yesterday I played basketball with my Dad and two FingertheBlog readers not related to me. It's true, they exist. On the way back from playing my Dad and I stopped off at the WalMart in Wellington, FL to pick up some groceries. If you've read some of my other posts you all know how much love I have for WalMart. So we're in the grocery section and we're getting some milk. Across from the milk is a huge display of McArthur Juice. From what I gather, McArthur is a low-cost beverage company that serves the Sam's Clubs and WalMarts of the world. So in this huge fridge-container display thing there are about 50 or so gallons of juice. And just so you understand, we're not talking about not-from-concentrate juice here. We're talking about "bug juice"/powdered sugar and water/knock-of-Kool Aid-juice. It's cheap and it's probably nasty.

I took this pic with my camera-phone.













Fruit Punch, Orange, Lemon, and Grape. Clearly we have winner here and his name is grape. One sad lonely gallon of grape drink. For the love of God, why is everyone jonesing for grape. All of these drinks are sweet, all are sugary, but why is grape the bestseller? I've had this conversation with people before, but I don't think I've ever heard an answer that I thought was satisfactory.

Is it a racial thing? Is it a socio-economic thing? I remember on Saturday in July a few years ago playing basketball at 20th and 2nd in Manhattan and this jacked, 6'6", black guy rolled up to the courts chugging grape soda from a 2-liter bottle. I thought that was pretty badass. I used to come to the courts with mini Poland Spring bottles that I'd take from my gym. I feel like if I came to the courts with my mid-calf socks, tucked in t-shirt, and a 2-liter bottle of grape soda I would be taken less than seriously. Why is the (perceived?) association of grape soda and minorities stronger than the association of grape soda and Caucasians? I'd like to think there is some sort of genetic explanation here, but I really don't know.

Dave Chappelle even takes it one step further by differentiating 'grape juice' and 'grape drink'. You can watch this Not-safe-for-work clip here.

I think we all have our grape soda stories, and I think it's fair to say that we all make our assumptions about grape soda. Let's put these assumptions to bed though. It's almost 2008 for crying out loud. We need answers. Someone call the Freakonomics guys.

C.C. I will Never Forget Ye

I had a 9:10am flight out of Detroit this morning. My plane landed at LaGuardia at 4:30pm. Had I been doing a running diary this is what I would've written...

12:15am: At the Hill House Christmas Party. I'm standing in a circle with a few friends, and they're taking swings of Beefeater Gin in honor of finals being over and in honor of a really long line to the keg...I decline as flying hungover is miserable. The party is an "Ugly Sweater Party". I don't think a lot of Jews own "ugly sweaters" with reindeer prints, or other Christmas-related flair such as iron-on candy canes. Nonetheless I wear the ugliest sweater I own, which I still like, and I get slightly offended when a friend says "Whoa, that's an awesome ugly sweater". I have an early pickup tomorrow. I leave the party and there are 5 inches of snow are on the ground.

4:00am-ish: Wake up, and see that it is still snowing...hard. Go back to sleep.

6:10am: Wake up and call the shared shuttle service that I'm supposed to take. I'm wondering if they can get me to the airport on time, and after speaking with them it appears that a 7:15 pickup is going to get me to the airport at 8:45...my flight is at 9:10am and that's cutting it way too close. I scramble, google "Ann Arbor Cabs", and start calling. Nobody picks up, nobody picks up, nobody picks up. Finally someone picks up. It's C.C., whoever that is, and he says that he can be at my place 7:00a and he can get me to the airport in one hour. He's already made a three hour trip to the airport this morning. He can obviously get the job done. I say "let's do it", and I call the shuttle company to cancel my reservation.

7:00a: I'm downstairs with my bags and run into two friends from down the hall. They were supposed to be picked up by the same shuttle service at 6:45 and their shuttle hasn't arrived. I tell them they should come with me. They agree.

7:05a: C.C. arrives in a minivan, fishtails at least 5 times coming out of our driveway. This might be my last cab ride ever.

7:15a: We're driving down Washtenaw (one of the main drags in Ann Arbor) and the roads have not been plowed. I look about 30 feet ahead and there's some guy wearing black from head to toe riding his bike down the middle of the road. He looks like a ninja...a ninja with a deathwish. Good ol' C.C. pulls up next to him, rolls down the window, and say "Hey man, you're crazy". That's the pot calling the kettle black if I ever heard it. But C.C. was right. What kind of moron is going to ride a mountain bike down a four-lane road in a horrible snowstorm.

7:30a: We're on the highway, and C.C. is passing cars. He turns to me and says "It's amazing what kind of tracks you can make on fresh snow". I start thinking about that old SNL skit "Oops I Crapped My Pants".

7:37a: C.C. has some screws loose, without a doubt. He then says to us, "Hey, did you hear about the limo driver who got car jacked and pistol whipped last week over in Ypsilanti?". We say no. He says, "that was me", and with that takes of his U of M stocking cap to reveal a bloody gauze pad covering the entire back of his head. He then goes on to tell us how he wrestled the gun from the guy (a guy he was driving that night) and narrowly avoided getting shot. You can read about it here. What do you even say to that? He was talking about it like it was no big deal, which kind of freaked me out. At that moment I was reminded of that time in Pee Wee's Big Adventure when Pee Wee hitches a ride from Large Marge. In case it's been a minute since you've seen the movie you can just watch this clip.

7:45a: Two exits aways, thank you God. C.C. passes a Mack truck and I swear they trade paint. I think about a little story from Marketing class about Coors Light. Coors was trying to crack the hispanic market a number of years back and they came up with a catchy slogan: "Sueltalo con Coors", which translated to "Turn it Loose with Coors"...but also translates to "diarrhea your pants", or in this case "diarrhea you pants with Coors". Somebody got fired for that I'm sure. Meanwhile, the "Sueltalo con C.C." campaign is definitely in full swing at this point.

7:50a: My phone is ringing. Any call before 8am is generally bad news. It's the Shuttle company. The guy's waiting for me downstairs. He says "You still need that ride to the airport?". I say "Well you're about 45 mins late, but I called around 6am to cancel my ride". C.C. remarks that that's what you get with these other cab services. Crazy dude has a point.

8:00a: We're pulling up to the American Airlines departures area. C.C. starts saying how that for three people a $65 cab ride is a good deal. I don't disagree, but when I spoke to him earlier in the morning he said the ride was $55. You don't argue with a man who just got pistol whipped.
----

So there you have it. By the time I got to the gate my nerves were totally fried. I'm not sure if that was the best or the worst cab ride of my entire life. I should've been wiser and realized my flight was going to be delayed 4 hours or so anyway, but I'm crazy about not being late to anything. I believe that C.C. was the only person who could've gotten me to the airport that quickly. An utter disregard for his safety, combined with a fresh pistolwhip wound, probably mixed with some sort of pharmacological cocktail du jour and good ol' C.C. defied the laws of physics, time, and common sense all so he could serve as my shepherd on this snowy, rainy Sunday. God Speed C.C., you crazy bastard.

Mock...yeah...Int...yeah...erview...yeah, Mock Interview

Vacation starts in t-minus three days, which means one thing...I'm getting my ass kicked by work right now. But quite honestly, if that wasn't the case then this really wouldn't be College, now would it? And it's not like over vacation I can just go back into perfecting my #1 skill of memorizing SportsCenter. I actually have to do some work. We got these interview study guides from UBS (thanks UBS!) that we have to study. Well, we don't HAVE to study them, but if we don't we'll end up as lifeguards this summer, which is kind of what I want to be anyway. Anyway, undoubtedly this UBS book will something I carry during vacation and will make an excellent door stop, pillow for the beach, and if all goes well, kindling for a parking lot bonfire once Michigan beats Florida in the Capital One Bowl (I'll be there). I'm looking forward to being done, but even once I'm done with exams on Friday, the work doesn't stop. I have a mock interview on Saturday morning, after a Christmas party on Friday night, which takes place after my final exam...so you do the math....a few 7 & 7s, plus a 40 equals, I don't know. I did a mock interview last week which was interesting. It was my first one ever, and I dressed in a suit and I had to make mock small talk, and told some mock jokes, chatted about mock turtlenecks, and made a mockery of the BCS system. Even though the mock interview was with an MBA2 I was still a little nervous and I mocked up a couple questions that I should've gotten. Mock me. But the point is to simulate the experience as best as possible, and hopefully it'll help me as I have two informational interviews next week. So what I'm trying to say is I'm going to be busy for the next few days and the next time I might get to you I might be in the Sunshine state.

But before I go here are a couple of things I've been thinking about that you may or may not want to think about too as you are sitting in your spacious office...

1. If you could swim in a pool filled entirely with soup, would it be in a soup that you really enjoy or a soup that you feel like you wouldn't drown in. Is there a happy medium?
2. T-Pain is garbage because I just heard Snoop Dogg use the that voice syyyynnthesizzzererererer yeeeaaahhhh girrrrllll, and Snoop can't sing to save himself and he still sounded pretty good.
3. What are take out Chinese food joints' margins on lunch specials. I bet the actual food costs 45 cents and they sell it for $5 or $6. That's a pretty solid margin. When the Wall Street Journal says that the Chinese economy is sizzling I know why.
4. Why do I generally not enjoy Christmas songs yet I really like that Mariah Carey Christmas song "All I Want for Christmas is You". It might be Mariah's best work. Ever.
5. If you took steroids and were about to get called out on it and were retired, wouldn't you just admit it and say that when you were taking them they were technically legal? I think Mark McGuire is the biggest joke and you can tell him I said that.

That Shit Looks like a Snake...oh it is a snake?

All right. We've known each other for a few months now at the very minimum so I can be honest with you, right? Right. When I first got to school I had some run of the mill medical issues that were more a pain in the ass than anything else. What were they exactly...not relevant. But what is relevant is that I'm not feeling any love from my insurance company, and I think there needs to be some revisions as what counts towards a deductible and what doesn't. Doctors, I'm sorry you all need to deal with this regularly. I can't imagine how frustrating it is to deal with insurance companies. So anyway, I go see the doctor, he assess the situation, he has me get my blood tested for a fiber allergy (what?), and then I go back into room. He says, "You need to eat more fiber". Forty-five minutes in the waiting room and that was his answer. And then he says, "Have you ever heard of the Bristol Scale before". Bristol Scale? I'm thinking maybe this has something to do with ESPN or NASCAR. Um, no, not quite. The Bristol Scale is this...


The doctor points to Type 4 and says "We need more snakes". Come on Doc, what's next, are you going to pull out "Everyone Poops" and read it to me? When I left I remember calling home and saying that I just paid $15 (my co-pay) for the doctor to tell me I needed "more snakes". Kind of a waste of money and definitely a waste of time. Since then I hadn't thought about that trip to the doctor. Two days ago I get an invoice in the mail from those bastards at Aetna saying that of the $244 it cost for the doctor to tell me "more snakes", only $144 of it was covered. Basically they were telling me that I need to pay $100 out of my own pocket before they start covering me in full. As if being asked to pay $15 for "more snakes" wasn't bad enough, now you're telling me I need to shell out another $100 for "more snakes". Are you serious? For $100 I want the doctor to reach in the drawer, grab a lute, and charm one of these brown snakes out of a wicker magazine basket. For $100 I want a cute med student to give me the ol' turn-your-head-and-cough. At least give me my money's worth. I don't know folks, I kind of feel like I'm being cheated here. In Ann Arbor $100 can last you 3 weekends out at the bars. I'm going to pay the $100, obviously, but it's going to take a lot of will power to not send in my check with a Type 3 crackly sausage.

Wake Up Little Su Zhi, Wake Up

I had a marketing presentation today. Six of us have been working on a project for about 2 weeks and we had to present it to the class. We presented an overview of Chinese sneakers/apparel company (obviously) Li-Ning and a proposed marketing strategy for expansion into the US and/or into India. It wasn't the flashiest and most complicated presentation of all time, but we put some long hours in and we had a solid finished product. The presentation took place this morning in our 8am marketing class. It's not easy to get up for 8am classes, and as I've mentioned in these blogs before, sometimes it takes a good hour until you actually can function like a normal human. In class, I'm one of sixty or so students, and sometimes you have the feeling that the teacher doesn't always notice you. Last quarter I was in a class that had a 40% or so participation factor built in. I hadn't spoken all term so on the last day I went up to the professor and asked him to call on me, and he said "where do you sit?", to which I said to myself, "eff, this is not good". He called on me that class, and he took me to school a little bit, but it was a good experience. I'm not sure how he didn't know where I sat, but my theory was that the top part of the frame of his glasses obstructed his view of my row. I mean, the guy I sat next to fell asleep EVERY SINGLE class. Head bob and everything. Did the professor really not notice?

So fast forward to today, and I'm up there in front of the class. I'm still not the most comfortable presenter, so when I'm up there it's kind of like that time in Old School where Will Ferrell is debating James Carville and Will Ferrell gets asked a question, he takes a deep breath, gives an thoughtful and well-crafted answer, finishes, turns to his teammates and says "What just happened? I think I blacked out".


Will, I think you're ready to be sponsored by Li-Ning.

So the point of the story is that I'm up there and I'm looking into the rows of chairs and there are a handful of people who are just hardcore passed out. Eyes closed. Head tilted. I mean, I was looking for some drool action but I didn't see any. Was I so boring...no...because I was up there talking for literally two minutes so they didn't have time to fall asleep on me.

The worst part was that finally, after talking about baseball, and apple pie, and pilgrims, and fat people, and everything else American for like, four months, finally someone steps up and wants to talk about something Chinese, and I look up and two of the Chinese students are out cold, probably dreaming of the day someone would come in and talk about some Chinese product and ask their opinion so they can really show off in class...oh well.

Back in October there was a 2:10pm class (prime post-lunch food coma time) where someone in the back row was making a point, so the class had all turned to listen to him. When he was finished talking and the professor resumed his lecture everyone in the class turned back around to listen to the professor except one guy, who had literally fallen asleep listening to his classmate speak. Hard not to notice that, you know?

So in closing...there is NO CHANCE whatsoever that if you are asleep in class you aren't noticed.

Bowling

I bowled yesterday. This morning my right forearm is totally tweaked and I feel like my left butt cheek somehow detached itself last night, ran 10 miles, and then reattached itself before I woke up. Is this what it's like to be 26? Despite the soreness today, I really enjoyed bowling last night. There is something very satisfying about throwing a strike, turning around and knowing that 30 people just saw you throw a strike. As Bos would say, "It's good for the confidence".

"Finger, tell them. Nobody fucks with the Jesus"

But let me tell you something not good for the confidence. Yesterday, it felt like I was one of three people in the entire MBA1 class not dressed up for recruiting. Between I-banking dinners, a Bain presentation, and a marketing symposium, it seemed like everyone was in jacket and tie or business casual. It got me thinking that maybe I was slacking off or something. I'm doing recruiting my own way, and shoot, if I get the job I want I'll feel pretty good about not having stressed myself out unnecessarily. However, if I don't get the job I want I'll be dusting off the tennis racket and posting fliers in Food Mart. I'm not throwing in the towel yet though. Ew.

Big weekend coming up. A big date...with my couch and TV tomorrow all afternoon for the conference championship games, and then my first hockey game tomorrow night. But now, back to reading about Foreign Direct Investments...

Endangered Species

A wise Michigan grad said, "If you make it to Thanksgiving without snow, consider it a small victory". Well, we made it to Thanksgiving without snow. However upon returning to the great state of Michigan we've been blessed with sleet, rain, snow, drizzle, shnizzle, and everything in between. The good news is that I think those crows either went South, or they died. I'm hoping the latter. Anyway, I don't remember seeing pictures of people bundled in their jackets walking to class in the Michigan brochure. It's snowing, what are you going to do about it? You can do what the ladies and squirrels do...gather some nuts and a few hundred boxes of Entenmann's and hibernate for the winter, or you can do what I'm going to do which is work out in preparation of a Spring Break trip that may or may not actually happen.

I haven't felt this rested in a really long time. I actually made it through the 8-9:30 part of Marketing without feeling like I was about to fall asleep. That's a first. I'm feeling energized but realize this feeling is going to fade pretty quickly. Oh well.

I have to keep this a semi-short blog today because of meetings and other necessary evils, but I will say this...how many Bambis had to die in order to warm the toes of the Michigan female population?













Oh, how cute...(gunshots)...oh how warm...












The name of the boot above is the "Rainier", which is just a little too close to "Reindeer" if you ask me.

Little Girl: Mommy, why is Santa's sleigh uneven?
Mom: Would you rather have cold feet?

All I know is that everyone and their mother seems to have a pair of these things, and of the hundreds of girls I've seen wearing these boots, I think eight have looked good in them, and I don't wear my glasses all the time so it was probably more like three. To all the girls who wear these baggy sweatshirts, leggings, and boots like the ones above....




Who am I to tell people how to dress though. I just call 'em like I see 'em.

What I am Thankful For, Factorial.

Current Knicks point guard/modern day romantic Stephon Marbury has been really busy these past few days. Between blackmailing Isiah Thomas and missing games Steph seems to be poised to ruin the Knicks season before the month of November is over. Hey, no worries though, because if basketball doesn't work out he can always teach math...



"If I didn't play the way how I played, I wouldn't have gotten no max contract," he said. "They can talk about whatever they wanna talk about me, because I got maxed. I'm a max player. Don't get mad at me, because I'm telling you what's real. One plus one is two, all day long, and it's never gonna change. And that's factorial."


One plus one is two, all day long, and that is a fact...orial. I am thankful for Stephon Marbury, because as long as he's out there I'll have blogging material.

I’m thankful for “Z-indicators”. I was talking with a friend last night and came to the realization that any company/product that substitutes a “z” for an “s” basically suckz. For example, Lugz, Hot-Headz, and Zales. Ok, maybe not Zales. Z-indicators take a lot of guesswork out of the consumer experience, which we should all be thankful for. Unfortunately, in Ann Arbor I blatantly ignored the z-indicator and went to a place called Nogginz for a haircut. Twenty minutes and twenty bucks later I walked out looking like a cholo. I’m not sure I understand the allure of having your hairline form a 90-degree angle, but I am sure I’ll never go back there.

I’m thankful for that fact that I don’t live in Detroit. Last weekend I tailgated for the Giants/Lions game and I thought I was on the set of the critically acclaimed HBO show “The Wire”. What can you say about a city that smells like marijuana and hot dog water? It was really sad actually. There were literally entire blocks that were cordoned off by barbed wire. Easily over 50% of the buildings I saw were partially boarded up. A typical one mile stretch is basically liquor store, liquor store, check cashing store/pawn shop, liquor store, Zales, mini-mart. I’m not sure a city like Detroit is ever going to enjoy a renaissance. They have such a long way to go. Ford Field, however, was a pretty spectacular venue.

Below: On location at the tailgate.

Below: Chris and Marlo from The Wire...tailgating?












I'm thankful for the few days off from school that I have. I'm sitting at home in CT in the comfort of my living room, computer on lap, football on the TV, with a cold glass of milk. Milk, and sleeping late...definitely will do a body good.

I'm thankful for a lot of things, and I'm thankful that you all keep reading my blog. Have a great Thanksgiving.

Mirror Mirror on the...floor? God Damn those Shoes are Fly

I purchased a mirror the first week of school and it still sits on my floor, effectively making my changing area look like a Foot Locker, since I have stacks of sneakers and one of those tilted sneaker mirrors. But the point is not about the sneakers, it is about the lack of time and the prioritizing I do here at Michigan. And the priority for this weekend is soaking up all the yummy goodness knows as Michigan vs Ohio State. I came back from the gas station and there were two junkyard cars painted scarlet and grey out in front of the AEPi house. Students are lining up to take sledgehammers and destroy the cars, and best of all, it's sponsored by Domino's. I'm serious.

I hope the Ohio State football team can understand this shirt, considering the majority of them are majoring in geography.


But, yeah, I'm pretty psyched for the weekend, which is also a double whammy, as I'll be going to the Giants-Lions game on Sunday. But on Monday I'll be knocked senseless by my Finance Midterm, so there are definitely pluses and minuses. I'll only get one Michigan-Ohio St game in Ann Arbor while I'm here, whereas I'll definitely be taking another Finance test at some point later this term. Priorities.

As I mentioned in my last post, I'm hoping Michigan wins and it gets so crazy that the Earth opens up and swallows the Big House. Well, I'm thinking this might not be that far off considering the trees right outside my window have become the hangout for hundreds of black crows or grackles or some devilbirds. The apocalypse is upon us. All night long for the past week or so...caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw caw cawcawcaw caw cawcaw caw caw caw caw caw. I want to go out and start throwing rocks, by I'm kind of afraid the crows would come down and tear me to shreds. And this really isn't that wild of an assumption...

http://paperfrigate.blogspot.com/2005/05/birds-attack-people-on-sidewalks-of.html

If you want to know how annoying it is, just call me right before you go to bed, put the phone by your ear, and I'll "caw caw" you until you can't take it anymore and you hang up. And then I'll call you back and "caw caw" you some more. Caw.

Watch the game tomorrow at noon and have a good weekend.

Pot Luck

Oh man, I really have no business writing this post given the amount of work I have to do, but I've been away too long and I miss it. I'm trying not to run into making these weekly posts the "this is what I did last weekend" type of post, but this is what I did last weekend....

Saturday was one of the stranger days I've had in a really long time. I watched the Michigan game with some friends and then went to a pot luck dinner with some of my classmates, some of their spouses and even some of their kids. I remarked upon arriving that this was hands down the most grown up thing I've done since coming to Michigan. I made a cold barley salad with peppers, mozzarella, onions, tomatoes and cilantro. The theory behind my dish was simple, add as much color to it as possible because color is impressive. It actually happened to be pretty good too. When I opened the dish someone said, "Finger, that looks delicious." To which I replied, "It is, and look how colorful it is". It was nice to hang out with people who I typically would not hang out with. One of my classmates was there with her daughter. She's raising a 6 year old by herself, while attending Business school full time. Does someone like that even get phased at being cold-called? For Christsakes, she's had a person come out of her body, everything else must be child's play right? After changing how many diapers, and cleaning up how many spills do you feel like you could step into a ring with Mike Tyson? I don't know how she does it.

So after having a great, and extremely diverse dinner I went home and then went to one of the campus bars to hang out with some friends and consume the Saturday night special of $6 hard liquor pitchers. Full regression was underway as my mentality went from "grown ass man" to "frat boy" in about the span of an hour. But I guess that's part of the charm at Michigan. There's something for everyone, and if you're like me, you can make your two years a "pot luck" and sample a little bit of everything.

Anyway, in honor of the chick pea masala I ate on Saturday night that ended up giving me nightmares (although it was quite tasty), I'm going to leave you with a link to a video I found amusing. I've got to figure out how to embed some of these videos.

This is Safe For Work although it has sound. If you don't like stupid humor you should just skip it.

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/9da8271a25

This weekend...Michigan versus Ohio State. I'm hoping the Big House gets so loud and crazy that the Earth just opens and swallows everyone whole. It's going to be quite a crazy weekend, and quite a busy week leading up to it. Happy Monday.

Jeepers Creepers, Rick's and Skeepers

So by now you all know that I start looking forward to the weekend starting Sunday morning. Given that we just started a new quarter I don't have as much on my plate now than I'm going have in the coming weeks, so I can afford a little more FingertheBlog Time than normal. On Thursdays the business school has a mixer with another one of the graduate schools, as I've previously mentioned in past posts. This past Thursday was the Medical School. Basically there was one girl/lady/woman/future doctor who was attractive and all my friends wanted to speak to her, but instead we just watched from afar and made a few hours worth of awkward eye contact. Finally one of us went up to her and asked, "do you have a boyfriend?", she said yes, and then we all left. At that point we were on Main Street, a healthy 20 min walk from where most of us live. Being that is was cold out, I was wearing a sport coat and jeans. I'm not trying to get sick. We walked two blocks down Main Street to another bar and stayed for just a short period of time. It was about 1:15, the bars close at 2:00.

It's not my fault that Rick's, one of the campus bars, is a block from my apartment. It's a natural stop on the way back home. So one of my buddies and I decided to jump in a cab and head to Rick's to catch the last 45 minutes of a Thursday that had otherwise been mediocre. Just to tell you about Rick's, it's in a basement and it's dirty. The bathroom stalls have no doors, a la jail (or so I'm told). The floor is linoleum, and they have carpeting which probably hasn't been cleaned since Pabst actually won their Blue Ribbon back in the 1800s. So that's the scene. Despite it being a disgusting bar, people dress up. It's not uncommon to see girls in heels and dresses. So after splitting a couple $4 pitchers with my friend it's getting on 2:00am and the "ugly lights" are about to come on. When you're dancing with some girl at 2am and it's dark and you've maybe had a couple too many sodas you really can't tell what kind of hand you've been dealt, the ugly lights come on and reveal all. There's nothing flattering about that lighting. You're sweaty and nasty, your pupils start to dilate, and you look you just came back from the gym. I've seen guys on the dance floor acting all cool, impressing some girl, and come 1:58a they're a wreck, and all they're thinking is "please don't have a mustache, please don't have a mustache, please don't have a mustache". The ugly lights can be a game changer, they really can. Imagine having the lights come on and seeing this...





In the dark, she's got nice smelling long brown hair, and she probably just another sorority girl. When the ugly lights come on, she's Danny Trejo, Hollywood actor.






So the ugly lights came on and I start talking to some girl (without a mustache), and the girl's friend comes over, pulls her aside and says, "Only the creepers are still here" clearly referring to me. I've been called many things in my life, but a creeper hasn't been one of them. Kind of taken aback I said, "oh so because I'm wearing a sport coat I'm a creeper. I'm soooo old and creepy because I have a sport coat on huh?" She kind of shrugged, looked somewhat apologetic and then left.

I don't understand. A guy wears a t-shirt like this and he's cool....
and a guy looks like this and he's a creeper...
That's Bond. James freaking Bond. He wears a sport coat. Is he a "creeper"?

Moving along to Saturday...after watching Michigan pull off quite the comeback against MSU a bunch of us went to Scorekeepers, aka Skeepers. Just to give you some idea about Rick's and Skeepers, it is pretty obvious when looking at the patrons that it is mostly an undergrad scene, and it isn't a coincidence we end up at one or both places a few nights a week. Skeepers gets packed at around midnight and at that point everyone's mingling and hanging out. I see a girl who I met on Halloween so I go over and say hello. I say, "hey I'm John, we met on Halloween, what's going on?" She looks at me and says, "Halloween was a looooong time ago" and then turns around. For the record, Halloween was three days before (stupid), but I got the point. She was one of those horrible, sorry, "haaarrrible", Long Island girls, so maybe I should've expected as much. I apologize for that sweeping generalization, but even if you are a sweetheart from Long Island even you know that there's something in that drinking water that turns some of these Long Island girls into some of the saltiest women on the face of the Earth. I'm not going to get into that though, because I'm writing a dissertation on it for release later this year.

But getting back to the story, I couldn't understand what was difference between Saturday and Halloween that would cause this girl to act the way she did. Taking a self-inventory, I noticed that this time I was wearing a sweater over my buttondown, as opposed to just a buttondown. Surely that wasn't it, or was it? Not 20 minutes later some girl comes up to me and says, "you're not from here are you?" I say, "no, I was living in New York before I came to Michigan and I grew up in Connecticut". I asked her where she thought I was from and she said, "another country", to which I responded, "like England, or like Bulgaria?" She says "Israel". Now I may have the map of Israel written all over my face, but given the heavy NYC/LI area contingent there that night I was far from being the only Jew up in the club. I literally could not understand what the hell prompted her to say that, and then I asked, "is it the sweater?" and she said, "yes".





Sweaters and Jews go together like...
peas and gefilte fish? Who knew.







Unless it is a text book for a class that you know is going to kick your ass, don't judge a book by its cover. Two nights. One night a "creeper", the other night a "sweater wearing Israeli". Are undergrads naive and a little dumb, undoubtedly. Will I continue going to Rick's and Skeepers, undoubtedly. But in case my tastes just aren't appreciated up in Michigan there's always Washington and Lee.


http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2007/10/30/education/edlife/20071104_Trendspotting_Slideshow_index.html

One Eighth the Wiser

I'm one eighth the way into my MBA. And knowing how much work it takes to not want to crawl into a hole come exam time, I'm really trying to get ahead and stay ahead. I have a fresh set of professors, a fresh set of classes, and fresh set of issues to be named later. I'm taking World Economy, Operations, Marketing, and Finance and the best part is that on Mondays and Wednesdays I'm done at noon which means I have time for the gym. I felt rejuvenated just walking to the gym on Monday. I felt like my arms were going to fall off on Tuesday though but it was worth it.

My Finance professor is awesome. He waxes poetic about love and finance and how the two are related. He insists that instead of writing out decimal points such as 43.88 you just write 43.love. What are decimals anyway in the scheme of life, he says, life is about love. This guy loves Finance and he loves to teach and it's kind of inspiring. In fact, if you aren't inspired by this guy I'd say you probably have a lump of coal for a heart. All around business school you see people pouring themselves into the things they love, whether it be Accounting, environmental issues, strategy competitions, saving the whales, or even getting drunk at Thursday happy hours. I've never ever met a bunch of people so damn passionate about what they do. Sometimes it scary.

...And then the Recruiting Machine rolls through. It's a big machine, with lots of fancy guns that spit out fancy appetizers and tote bags. The Recruiting Machine lures people with the promise of huge salaries, signing bonus, and shiny blackberries, and best of all the Recruiting Machine comes to you. Right to your door in Ann Arbor.

"Sorry Optimus, but unless that gun is shooting out mini crabcakes you are yesterday's news"



And don't get me wrong, the Recruiting Machine is a beautiful thing. It offers opportunities that you really could not get (or would have a very hard time getting) anywhere else in the world. The Recruiting Machine says "Hey man, you want to work in Hong Kong for the summer, I can make it happen. You want to do a product launch for Apple, come talk to me." And not only that, the Recruiting Machine is going to take you out for dinners and tell you about these awesome opportunities. You're going to trade in that Top Ramen for some tuna tartar over soba noodles. But here's the rub. While we are stuffing our faces, telling "our story", and walking around in our suits 3 days a week we start to forget about what we really love.

Okay, I'm not sure where this post is going but I'm going to propose what I call the "Good Life Test". Kanye West has a song out called "Good Life" and every time I hear it I think of doing the things in my life that I love the most. Now I admit, I can't make a career of standing on the beach in Amagansett and throwing fly patterns into the ocean (or can I?), but this song makes me think of my perfect future job, which I'm hoping allows me to be happy and thus live a...everyone together now..."good life". I'm going to recommend you check out the video. Just listen to the song first sans video and then watch the whole thing together. Hopefully you'll have the same mini-epiphany that I had after hearing it. If you hear this and you think you should be, I don't know, a magician, then I say abracadabra. If you hear this and it makes you want to be a trader then I hope you get up every morning and pour yourself a big bowl of Wall Street Journal and go kill it on trading floor.

Here's the link to the song and video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmX9ci9Fczw

(I'd embed this video if I could. Sorry)

I guess the half-assed moral of the story here is that don't let the machine dictate who you are and what you can do. Pursue your own "good life" whatever that may be. Clearly on Thursday night my brain is fried from the week of class. So if you've stayed with me this far, thank you. I've struggled to write this so I can only imagine reading it. Hopefully I'll be back later this weekend with something more coherent.

Attack of the Bobbleheads

If I hear the phrase "deep dive analysis" one more time I'm going to take a long walk off a short pier. "Forty thousand foot view" is also another one of these overused business phrases. My question is that if people are so busy taking "deep dive looks" and "forty thousand foot views" is anybody actually addressing these issues from a normal point of view? I've invented a new business phrase and it's called "terra firma". People who first want to look at an issue without donning a wetsuit and deep diving or without sporting an oxygen tank and climbing to 40 thousand feet can just roll with me and wear normal business clothes "terra firma" style.

After three days of presentations there must be people with significant neck cramps from nodding so much. During these breakout sessions it's typical to find an associate, VP, or MD from one of the business units surrounded by eager MBAs, or gunners as they're called, trying to ask some questions and make an impression. I'm not going to lie, I'm up in the mix, but unlike some of my classmates I'm not trying to find out what kind of toothpaste these guys use. Fellas, it's called personal space. I try to give these guys some room, ask my question, get my answer and then leave. But you'll see seven students surrounding one employee just listening and nodding their heads for hours on end. If you step back and look around it's really funny. This is the best way I can describe a typical MBA-VP discussion.





"Yes, hello, my name is Jim Wannabebanker, and I have a three part question. First, what do you think of the recent credit crunch and will it affect hiring for this coming year. And if it does do you think it will be as a result of an internal restructuring, and what would that restructuring entail. Actually I guess that's four parts."







"Well, as you know we took some writeoffs this past quarter, but what we're really going to focus on is how many gold buttons are on my suit. I count three. I wouldn't worry about restructuring because it isn't going to affect how many shirts you'll have to pick up from the drycleaners for me. Basically I can say anything right now, and you are going to nod your head like an idiot. Is you mother a smelly pirate hooker?"










(Nodding)











Excellent. I'm going to work your sorry ass so hard this summer that you might as well not even rent an apartment because you'll be living at your desk. Isn't that great?










(Nodding)










Wonderful. I'm looking forward to our interview when I ask you to open a window that unbeknownst to you is permanently locked, just so see how much effort you are willing to put into it. Wait, hold on a second...my boss is calling...











"God dammit Jones. Did I not say two-ply? Are you a moron? Are you deaf?"










(nodding)








Forget those Vault Guides, that's how it goes. I'm back on the plane tomorrow to Ann Arbor. This stay has been way too short, but it is what it is. Hopefully I'll get some interviewing love which will bring me back a couple more times between now and the summer. Until then I'll be practicing eating danishes.

New York, New York...So nice they named it twice

It's good to be back in New York and its good to be done with my exams. A family friend recently went through Navy Seals Training and he said part of his training was wading out 20 yards into the rough ocean, sitting down, and getting rocked by the crashing waves for thirty minutes straight. That's what comes to mind when I think about how exams went. I learned a lot during the course of the last six weeks and most importantly I learned I'm not going to be an economist, a statistician, or an accountant. Professional omelet-maker, and dirty laundry accumulator are looking like the most viable career options at this point, which is good because the sky is the limit for those two professions. And speaking of professions, part of the reason I am here this week is to meet with companies and learn about summer internship opportunities in the areas of Finance, and Media/Entertainment. I don't really get fired up about these presentations because most of time at the on-campus presentations I ended up with bruised ribs from people jockeying for position in order to ask stupid questions to recruiters. And then on top of that some of the people from the companies who come to present really need to be knocked off the imaginary pedestals they think they're standing on.

For the purpose of anecdotes I'm not naming company names, because its hard enough getting a job as it is. While I know my blog readership is now at a robust seven people, I'm expecting a call from Gawker any day now and I don't want to shoot myself in the foot just in case these stories end up being read by millions upon millions of adoring fans. So yesterday we get into our first presentation and on of the senior level employees walks in and the first thing he says is "Whoever eats the most danishes will definitely get an internship". We all laughed politely as we are expected to do. But then he said "seriously, if you eat the most danishes you'll get a job". REDACTED. REDACTED. Thirdly, there are international students who don't understand fraternity humor, and it was sad to see them fill their plates with danishes.

And speaking of food, I had a great dinner on Friday night at Schiller's Liquor Bar, on Saturday I hit up my used-to-be-favorite Thai spot for some pad see ew, and then Sunday at the Giants game I enjoyed a two-meal tailgate of eggs, bacon, dogs, and chicken and couple porch sodas (thanks to Jason and hotshot lawyer Esh). Just to clarify on the thai place, they started skimping on portion size, which is not a good idea. I would suggest that Luscious Thai not piss me off because never ever have I seen another person in the restaurant when I was there. Not a one. And I doubt they want to lose their only customer. Up at school, when I eat in the cafeteria and I want more food I flash the dimples and say, "May I have some more? I'm a growing boy", which translates to eat least one more spoonful of mashed potatoes if a woman is serving, and about a half a spoonful more if a guy is serving. In NYC they just don't show the same love. But I'll bounce back because nobody can stock a fridge like my grandmother, so I'm set for the rest of the week and in-case the power went out in NYC I'd be set for the rest of the month. Hopefully by the end of the week I'll look more like me and less like Powder.


"Finger, I'm so pale because I stay inside all day reading your blog"


I'm sure I'll have a lot more to say about the week once I'm done with all the hustling around Manhattan. Until then...

Hold the Phone...

Finals are taking place this week and FingertheBlog is grinding...grinding really hard. He's tired and grumpy and he misses having the time to drop beats, rhymes, and life on this blog, but he'll be back next week...LIVE FROM NYC...

Enjoy the weekend.

Savvy Marketing

With finals approaching I'm not sure how much blogging I'll be doing in the next week as my time is taken up by studying, group meetings, discussing the group meetings, and then discussing the discussion we had about the group meeting. Luckily every group I'm in this semester is a pretty solid amalgamation of diverse interests and work experiences. And it also doesn't hurt to have a former economist in my econ group. Anyway, I'm not sure how all the studying gets done, but I tend to think about these things in terms of time, as in, come 5pm on next Thursday I'm done and until then I'm going to hustle and scrap my way to the finish line.

In this blog I want to talk about Radiohead and their new album, "In Rainbows" which came out the other day. Trying to keep up with iTunes, illegal downloads, the decline of actual CDs purchased and a myriad of other issue plaguing the music industry, Radiohead made their entire album a free download. There is no suggested cost, and basically you pay what you wish, kind of like the whole NYC museum scene on Friday after work. Some people will pay cost, some will pay more and some less. I will disclose that I paid nothing, but then donated a comparable sum to a charitable effort going on at school this week. I love the earth like that. If Radiohead is going to say, "Oy, take this music for free", then I'm going to say "You blokes are all right" and I'm going to download it for free. Time will tell whether Radiohead earns as much profit as some of their other releases, but you have to give them credit for doing what they're doing. It's also easier for them to do this as they've had several multi-platinum albums. If you want to get into the act check out www.inrainbows.com.

Anyway, as for the album itself, it is in the vein of Kid A and Amnesiac, but a toned down version. I think I've listened to it three times through in the last 24 hours. The highs aren't as high and the lows aren't as low, which render the album less dramatic as their previous releases. Regardless, I think the songs are pretty solid. There's a lot of music out there that you hear and you say "I could do that", but Radiohead does not and has never even come close to falling into that category. Their sound doesn't get stale and I don't even know where they come up with the ideas for these instrumentals. The one knock is that I think Thom Yorke does a little bit to much "whining" on this album. I'm not going to get all Rolling Stone on you with a full out musical review, but I will say that it is worth the 3 minutes to go and download the album. Things are much sweeter when they are free, or heavily discounted. I actually have that phrase tattooed across my back, which is a pretty dumb tattoo, but not as dumb as this one...


In case you can't see that well, it's Tennessee Titans QB Vince Young, who apparently forgets what his name is from time to time, a real hazard of being an NFL QB these days. Vince, seriously, that tattoo is weak sauce, buddy. My mom has sewn about 100 little "J. Finger" labels into socks, towels, underwear, and God knows what else over the past 26 years, and I'm thinking that a little "V. Young" label is probably a little less painful and equally effective, no?

Thursday night tonight, which means, big night of studying and writing, OH YEAH! I actually just watched Blood Diamond, although I had to spread it out over the course of 4 days since I don't have the time to sit down and get it done in one sitting. Fellas, let me say this, if your soon to be fiance is bugging you about the size of the ring she wants, just sit her down, pop in Blood Diamond, let Leo make her cry, let Djimon Hounsu make her feel guilty, and then take her to Tiffany the next day. You'll be guaranteed to save some serious coin, which you can then use to upgrade to that 50 inch plasma TV, which you can use to watch Blood Diamond again and again in hi-def surround sound any time your lady becomes a Nagging Nancy. It's like, "hey honey, can we just finish this argument after the movie? I'm up to the part where he sees his family and realizes his only son was taken by the rebels, and he can't even go into the refugee camp to hug his wife and daughter. But we can talk about the important stuff like why I didn't text you back last night when the movie is over, okay?"

And you're thinking....
"Blood Diamond. Best. Movie. Ever. Maybe she'll bake me some cookies. Jennifer Connelly is the hottest reporter I've ever seen."

And she's thinking..."I'm complaining about texting when people are dying in Sierra Leone, God, I'm such a baby. He sure likes that movie, maybe he has a crush on Jennifer Connelly. Maybe I should make him those cookies he loves. "

In summation...

Radiohead...Strong to medium strong
Blood DiamondS...bad bad bad, extremely bad
Blood Diamond, the movie...good good good, extremely good
Jennifer Connelly...The cat's meow, but I wouldn't watch "House of Sand and Fog" again if you paid me.

Jay Z and J-Date

I love Ann Arbor, especially Thursday through Saturday when I sleep and feel like a human again. When I can finally breathe I also have time to reflect and I'm going to share a small gripe (again). Let me break this down using a popular Jay Z lyric...

"I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one"

Where to start.

First, literally. I think in front of me sits 3 practice tests, 2 from Statistics, and 1 from Accounting, and just for the sake of making this work let's just say that each test has 33 problems. So literally I have 99 problems right now. But let me say this, I would rather have 100 problems if it meant that I had a "bitch" as that 100th problem.

I'm not sure if this is any barometer of the female situation in Ann Arbor, but last week an email was sent to our MBA section (we are 1 of 6 sections with about 80 people in each section) telling us about a mixer with the Pharmacy School. And after the email went out there was a legitimate buzz among the guys in my section. The Pharmacy School. Not the Nursing School. Not the Education School. The Pharmacy School. Granted, the Pharmacy School is about 90% ladies, but still. I think by the end of the day there was such a buzz about the Pharmacy School that I heard they are favored to beat Michigan this weekend by 10 points. Mind you, this is before anyone has even seen a single girl from the Pharmacy School. It's a good time to be a woman in Pharmacy School. There is high demand for pharmacists in general, and an all-time high demand among MBA1s who want to talk to a girl about something besides the Econ test. So let's think of some good things about dating a pharmacist. Here's a quick brainstorm...

1. Honest
2. Want to help people
3. Look good in white
4. No "your prescription will be ready in an hour" nonsense
5. Good working hours

So maybe you've been dating a pharmacist for a few weeks, and then you call in a prescription to your local drug store, and you go in to pick it up and then this happens...







"Brenda, hey, what are you doing here?"

"Hey Tim, what a surprise. Well I am a pharmacist you know, so I work at a pharmacy. Are you picking up something?"







"Yes. No. kind of. I mean, I was actually just looking for some...chewing gum, and look, here it is. Ah yes, chewing gum, my favorite"

"Well it looks like you just had a prescription refilled. Here are your medicated supp...suppositories? What the hell?"










"Brenda, wait, I can explain. See, I have this friend, and his name is also Tim Atkins, and he lives with me too, so you see...

"Likely story Tim. You know what, I can't make it to dinner on Friday. Something just came up. I have to stay here and count inventory."








"Just great, Brenda. Just great. Now I'll never go out on a date again."












"Heyyyyyy Timmy, call me. I'll come over and rock your world"







By the way, Jamie Foxx used to be really really funny. If you don't believe me go back and watch a lot of In Living Color. The above might have been a little exaggerated and would probably be the worst case scenario. I'm not that worried about it all though. If I have no luck after the Pharmacy, Law, Nursing, Medical, Veterinary, Natural Sciences, Dental, and Public Policy mixers then maybe there's cause for concern. One caring reader sent me a note with a suggestion. The below is from Charmaine, from Charlotte, NC.



First of all, thank you for your concern Charmaine. Second of all, them girls are not lonely, they're probably just not finding what they want out there and I can understand that. I have previously said that I'd move to Alaska before I went on JDate, and I'm sticking to that. Although I do hear it's nice there in the summertime, and I do need a summer internship....

I know people who have met on JDate and I even know a couple that is getting married that met on JDate. It's a good thing that JDate exists, and I firmly believe that. That being said, I'd like to meet my next lady friend perhaps in the library or at a small gathering or maybe over an egg cream soda at the local ice cream parlor, and not sitting on my computer alone in the dark at 3am.

So in summation, yeah, whatever. 'Tis what it is, and it's Thursday, which for me means it's Friday since I don't have class until Monday. Enjoy the weekend and keep an eye out for me.

Blood, Wet, and Tears

Do you remember the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer can't get good water pressure in his shower? I've been living that episode every day since I moved into apartment 402 here at Forest Plaza in lovely Ann Arbor. So aside from the shower sucking, the aforementioned unfinished hole in my closet is still there (please refer to my August post for the details), and still my hot water pressure is insultingly weak. So I've been in touch with my landlord's office about getting the situation rectified. Because the building was constructed in 1925, if the water needs to be turned off in one apartment, the water needs to be turned off in the entire building. And this is kind of an inconvenience as you could imagine. Typically, the management company drafts a letter and slips it under each person's door notifying residents of the situation. Well the letter I got regarding this repair really pissed me off and I'll just share with you the part that pissed me off.

"Please be aware that we will be conducting plumbing work in the building at 715 S. Forest on Friday, September 28th, 2007. The Forest Plaza resident in Apt. #402 is requesting for maintenance to increase the hot water pressure in their bathroom. In order for this to be corrected, it is necessary for us to temporarily shutoff the water to the building beginning at 9:00 am on Sept 28th".

Every previous "repair letter" made no mention of apartment numbers or reasons or anything. So why now is it necessary to specifically call me out in a letter to the entire building? I asked my landlord this and he didn't even know about the letter. So who is the culprit then? Some angry flipping birch, who has it out for me. I have no idea why she doesn't like me since I've been nothing but nice and respectful to her. I want some answers, and if I don't get them I just may have to go in and speak to her myself the next time I drop off my rent check. The construction, as stated in the above excerpt was supposed to happen today, but yesterday maintenance came in and fixed a small leak in the hot water pipe and now my water pressure is very respectable, and no further repair is needed. So I'm going to stop talking about my apartment now even though the fridge is now leaking.

"Hey Finger, I hear you on the crappy water pressure and what's the deal with that angry woman? Jess and I love the blog by the way"


Anyway, as you may recall from the last post, the Econ test didn't go so well. Everyone thought they failed, and you know what, it looks like I'm one of the few people who has any shred of honesty around here. When I say I think I bombed a test, damn it, I'm not lying. As opposed to the rest of the class who clearly can't keep their word. Next time someone comes out of a test and says "Oh I think I failed" my response will be "Well you know what I think? I think you're a curve killing liar". But I love my classmates, I really do.

Lastly, I had to get some blood drawn this morning. Long story as to why and not interesting. At this point in my life I'm kind of a grown up. A grown up who is still on the family cell phone plan. I'm not going to deny hate having to get blood drawn. So I go to the lab at the University Hospital and their blood drawing area is an open room with a bunch of different "stations". What is this, a career fair? I don't need a bunch of 7 year olds seeing me cry and then pass out curled up in the fetal position. So they call my name and I lean over to the nurse and I say "Do you think I can get my own private room?". So she says fine and then I say "Do you think you can do it with a baby needle?" and she says fine. They're so nice up here in Ann Arbor. So I'm basically about to pass out lying there waiting for her to stick a tiny needle in my arm. She's tells me she's about to put on the rubbing alcohol, and I'm still conscious, so that's good. And then she says "do you want me to tell you when?" and like a Trojan warrior I say "Nope, just do it whenever". I'm brave like that.

So here I am, writing this blog with my smiley face sticker and lollipop. It's actually time to go do some Statistics. You probably have a 10% chance of hearing from me again at some point this weekend, so if you don't, enjoy the weather, enjoy the football, and enjoy your water pressure, because I'll be enjoying all three.

Re-charging my Batteries

On Friday I had my first midterm. I was feeling pretty decent about it going in. We were able to take in a 8.5x11 formula sheet also, so I had that little extra boost of confidence right there. So what happened 5 mins into the test? My calculator crapped out. It serves me right though, since my TI-83 had been telling me it was low on battery power since Labor Day.

So not on speaking terms with Duracell right now.


So I'm taking the batteries out of the calculator, rubbing them, switching their position, somehow trying to buck the forces nature and reverse the chemical process, and resuscitate my calculator for just the next hour and a half. No dice. I go up to the front of the class, and I tell the professor my calculator just died and he's looking around, not sure what to do. He follows me back to my seat and he taps the guys sitting next to me on the shoulder and says, "Hey, can you share your calculator with John?". So obviously I object, telling my professor that there's no way it's fair to make the guy share his calculator with me. I know at Michigan the culture is all about helping one another and spreading the love, but that was a lot to ask, even for Ann Arbor. Luckily I was able to borrow my classmate's Treo and I used the calculator function. The only problem was that some girl kept calling during the test and I sent her to voicemail 3 or 4 times. I was ridiculously frazzled, and I was pretty sure I bombed the test. Everyone was congregated outside the school talking about how they all thought they failed, and it was music to my ears. And when an ambulance pulled up and brought a stretcher inside the business school I officially knew it was okay because at least I didn't pass out during the test. But you do what you do and then you move on, and that night I had two friends coming in from NY.

This was my second visit from friends since the school year started and both weekends I had friends in town have been the two best weekends I've had up at school. So thank you Steven, Sean, Bos, and Chiiinese. Yesterday was another one of those beautiful days where you start at 10am you go straight to 2am and you kill it at the tailgate, your team wins, and you kill it on the dance floor after the game, and then you take down a burrito at 2am, and then you get home and you've sweat through your shirt and your shorts, and then you shower, eat a piece of rye bread, and sleep the sleep of kings. Some people, who won't be named on this blog, apparently like to add urinating in the kitchen garbage to that list, but that's a story for another day.

Target sponsored one heck of a tailgate on Saturday for the business school students. They even gave out long-sleeved t-shirts, and FingerTheBlog lurves him some freebees. Notice how the savvy former marketing man on the right makes sure the logo is facing out. Count those free impressions. They just don't teach that stuff in business school.


And before I forget, best shirt of the weekend award goes to a Penn State fan who wore a t-shirt that read "Ann Arbor is a whore". Simple, yet creative. It was a perfect gameday and a day in which I realized that it's best to tailgate in Vineyard Vines belts because as you sweat through your clothing, there's no leather dye that stains your belt line. Yours truly wears this one...

Of course none of this makes a difference when you end up wearing some drunk girl's Jack and Coke. Sunday was clean up day, and I was back grinding, going to meetings and getting ready for the school week. I'm just excited at the prospect of only having to wear a suit for recruiting once this week. Anyway, I'm exhausted and as much as I love gamedays, I'm looking forward to watching the game on TV this coming Saturday. Bed is calling. Sweet dreams.

Seriously Isiah? Seriously?

If you've been keeping up with the Isiah Thomas lawsuit you know the crazy details that have been coming out. Basically, former senior level employee, Anucha Brown-Sanders sued Thomas for sexual harassment, and was let go from MSG shortly after she spoke up. All sorts of details are emerging about Isiah and his office demeanor, and all I can say is that this guy is no mensch. I never really liked Isiah. I especially didn't like how he was always trying to kiss Magic on the cheek and then he bad-mouthed him as a philanderer. But just to give you an idea of some of the details, I'm copying some of my favorites below.

#1. "I'm sorry to say, I do make a distinction," Thomas said in a videotaped admission viewed by a Manhattan federal jury yesterday. "A white man calling a black female 'bitch,' that is wrong with me. I am not accepting that. That's a problem for me," he said. But asked if he'd have a problem with a black man calling a black woman "bitch," Thomas said, "Not as much."

#2. Quoth Isiah to the plaintiff in this case "What the fuck is your job? What are your job responsibilities, you fucking ho?"

I'm just trying to think about this for a minute. Imagine yourself at your job. Imagine these words coming out of your mouth. I mean, it is absolutely unreal that someone could or would actually say these things. It's like when a new hire gets shown around the office and she's like "Oh, I start today, and I'm sitting on the 3rd floor", and you say "That's great bitch. What the fuck is your job you fucking ho?" And not only do you say that, but you say it like you're asking for someone to pass the salt. Unreal. Absolutely unreal.

Some of you may know that Isiah became the owner of the Continental Basketball League from 1998-2000 and basically ran the league into the ground. How did he do that you might ask. Well, my guess is that he didn't start things off on the right foot. I think his first company-wide meeting went something like this:

Isiah: I'm very excited to stand in front of you today. We have a great product and I believe that we can turn this league around. My biggest asset is you, my workforce, and together we are going to finally see the CBA reach its potential. Before we start talking about strategy I'm going to need that bitch in the red to get me some coffee.
Woman in Red: Excuse me? What?
Isiah: The bitch. In. The Red. Get me coffee. I'm pretty sure I didn't stutter.
Woman in Red: Um, ok, how do you want it?
Isiah: Black. No cream, no sugar, and yes I am sending mixed messages to you right now. Anyway, we are going to need to focus our efforts in the PR department this week. Steve, I'll need you and your team of bitches to write up a press release that needs to go out by Friday.
Steve: Ok, so how many bitches should I have working on this project then?
Isiah: Whoa whoa whoa. You watch your mouth. I, as a black man, can call those hos "bitches". Those words coming from you, a white man, I have a serious problem with that. Consider that a warning and if you do that again I'll warn you again. And I'll continue to warn you as long as you work here. Let me be very clear about that. Listen folks, I don't wear this Burger King crown around the office for nothing. I run this league, and I'm the boss.

And so what probably happened the next day? Everyone quit except for Steve and a couple of white bitches. And how are you going to run a sports league with 10 people. Not well, that's how. CBA, the Raptors, the Knicks...I mean, this shouldn't be CSI here. Isiah will likely settle and then he'll resume terrorizing the bitches and hos at MSG until he gets fired by James Dolan. I can't see this playing out any other way.

Regardless, as the soap opera known as MSG and Isiah play out I recommend keeping current by reading the NYTimes because the things that he is quoted as saying are so ridiculous it is almost funny.

I Too Wear an Oversized Clock as a Necklace

So I come to Ann Arbor and Michigan loses to App St, and then the Ross School of Business goes from #1 to #7 in the Wall Street Journal rankings. Coincidence? Perhaps. Perhaps not. The sorority girls could care less about Ross' drop in the rankings because for the past week I've heard the following screamed from somewhere outside my window: "It's great...to be...a Michigan A E Phi...It's great...to be...a Michigan A E Phi". Is it really THAT great to be a Michigan AEPhi? I don't know, but I'm thinking maybe I'll need to set up and AEPhi/MBA mixer just to put all rumors to rest.

Recruiting is in full swing. On Friday there was a career fair in which I wanted to speak to one of probably 30 companies present. I spoke to that company and then walked around and passed by the ConAgra table. I have no interested in a Consumer Packaged Goods internship (or a CPG internship, say the cool kids) but there was one packaged good they had out on display which I was interested in sampling. ConAgra makes David Sunflower seeds which I happen to love. So the dilemma is do I just leave or do I go over, endure the 5 min conversation and get the seeds. Well, all I can say is that those seeds are a mighty tasty snack. It isn't so much that I don't like talking to the recruiters, because I actually like the practice and like making the contacts, it's just that I felt guilty for coming across as if I'd move to Omaha, NE for the summer. The only way I'm moving to Omaha is if Warren Buffett calls me up and says, "Finger, I have a job for you, and I'm going to pay you in sunflower seeds. And by the way, Susan and I love the blog".

The craziest thing these days seems to be getting my budget in order. When I lived in NYC budget was mostly dollars and cents. And just an aside, I think it was during MTV Cribs once when Master P so eloquently said "If it don't make dollars, it don't make cents". I think still my favorite quote of all time. Anyway, now, budgeting is all about time. Everything everything everything is budgeted. Writing "everything" thrice...probably a waste of time right there. For example I budgeted time for the following activities this weekend:

-Eating an 8 piece BBQ Chicken plate: Est time allowed 15 minutes, actual time 13 mins. I'm coming for you Kobayashi.
-Folding clean laundry: Est time 30 mins, actual time 3 days. Oops. At least it was clean laundry.
-Dropping off paper at B-school: Est time 10 mins, actual time 8 mins plus eating peach while walking counts as multi-tasking points.
-Writing this blog: Est time done in 15 mins

There's this thing, they call it the "gym", I think it sounds like "time" but a "g" instead of a "t". Anyway, I heard it's a pretty cool place where people go to get healthy and stay healthy. Maybe one day I will visit this crazy land where undergrad girls dress to impres, and there are 5 full length basketball courts. Until then I'll only get to dream about such a place.

Anyway, I hope to hit you all back up later this week before we go for win #2 against Penn State

Actual time writing this blog, including break for choking on sunflower seeds...18 mins.

Battling the Open Faced Turkey and Swiss on Rye

My biggest beef these days has been that the day only has 24 hours. My body is absolutely begging me for a nap. The classes after lunch are the hardest, because like a baby, I want to be fed and put down for a nap. You can look around the room and see all the head bobbing action post-lunch. Between meetings and class and recruiting and homework, there aren't enough hours in the day. And on the flip side, when it's Saturday I wish the day was more than 24 hours also because you don't want the fun to stop. Every day should be Saturday, plain and simple. Aside from an embarrassing loss the weekend was great. I had two friends in from NYC and we burned the candle on both ends pretty hard. My game day theory is this: If you get home on Saturday night and want to burn the clothes you were just wearing you know had a good Saturday. Can I do that every Saturday, not a chance.

Who wears their sunglasses at night?....

We do because earlier in the day we were blinded by the horrible football we saw. True story.

As I mentioned in the last post, on Friday we had our MBA games. My legs are still so tweaked from playing three games of football that yesterday I did my Accounting reading while taking a hot bath. I literally cannot sit and lift my left leg 8 inches off the ground and I wish I was kidding. We lost in the finals of football, and my section came in last, and now I can't put on my pants with out using my hands to lift my legs into the pant legs. And on top of that I had my favorite shorts ripped in half during our second game. I spent the rest of that game and part of the next with one full leg and half a tush-worth of Jockey underwear showing. Thankfully someone had a spare pair of shorts. Feel free to send me a new pair of Under Armour shorts in the mail.

Recruiting has already started and today I had my first event. The dynamic of these events is quite interesting and I never really did this as an undergrad so it's very new to me. It's a lot of jockeying for position, making some good contacts, learning about the companies, and eating coconut shrimp. I'm really good at one of these, and I'll let you guess which one. So, I'm going to leave you guys now because I have work to do, and because tomorrow is another day of class, meetings, recruiting, and coconut shrimp and I need some much needed Zs.