Tuesday, November 3, 2009
It's Halloween time kids, by Cody Sullivan
Arrgh, it’s hard to type when your fingers are mummified. That’s right. It’s Halloween time, and I’m at the office, swaddled in six rolls of two-ply, lotion-infused toilet paper. Hey, softness is critical when you’re a mummy. Next to me is a werewolf, shirtless, in Antique Rivet jeans of course. He’s making copies, looking feral. I swear if he drools on another press release, I’m going to shove a silver fork up his… ah, he finally left. Three over-sized chickens are viewing the results of our latest photo shoot to my left. I’ll resist any pun about pecking order. And of course, they’re about fifty vampires roaming about the office and showroom. Vampires! For the love of god, can we take a break with these vermin? Vampires are a stylish lot, so it’s natural these costumes turn up in the fashion industry. Still, Twilight. Vampire Diaries. True Blood. They’re too many vampires roaming about. Aren’t they supposed to be clandestine, crypt-crawlers? I’m still waiting for some ingenious youtuber to replace characters from every vampire movie with the Count from Sesame Street. You see. We don’t need new vampires. Let’s just tweak the old ones.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Premium???
Antique Rivet Blog
by Cody Sullivan
What’s with ‘premium’ denim? Enough with 'premium' denim, I say. Down with 'premium' denim! Burn it down! Who deemed 'premium' to be the absolute adjective for denim?
I sometimes wonder if it's modeled after fuel grades. Yet, I've never had a sales clerk point to the jeans wall and ask, "will that be regular, premium, or super-premium?" And, in all honesty, AR jeans are both high-octane and offer the best mileage. So what fuel grade does them justice?
I guess I'll just have to think up a new adjective then. 'Righteous' denim? 'Splendiferous' denim? What's the quintessential adjective? 'Quintessential'? Yeah, that's the it: 'quintessential' denim. Hello ladies. I notice you're admiring my quintessential denim. Don't touch!
I'm just kidding. Touch. Touch.
by Cody Sullivan
What’s with ‘premium’ denim? Enough with 'premium' denim, I say. Down with 'premium' denim! Burn it down! Who deemed 'premium' to be the absolute adjective for denim?
I sometimes wonder if it's modeled after fuel grades. Yet, I've never had a sales clerk point to the jeans wall and ask, "will that be regular, premium, or super-premium?" And, in all honesty, AR jeans are both high-octane and offer the best mileage. So what fuel grade does them justice?
I guess I'll just have to think up a new adjective then. 'Righteous' denim? 'Splendiferous' denim? What's the quintessential adjective? 'Quintessential'? Yeah, that's the it: 'quintessential' denim. Hello ladies. I notice you're admiring my quintessential denim. Don't touch!
I'm just kidding. Touch. Touch.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Justin writes; 3.5.09
"Don't drink and barter, folks." by Justin Herman
With two unused weeks of vacation, I decided to go to India...
This story takes place somewhere between the invention of the motorbike and the bus I caught to Pune.
Like any great democracy, India is the land of infinite possibilities, for example one possibility is to get robbed by the police. I've heard many stories about the Goan police and their handling of Caucasian motor bikers. To drive a motorbike in India, you technically need a license. Whether it's a motorcycle license or a lamented self-portrait, is unclear. The point is, a major source of income for these officers is solicited bribes from bikers.
I've learned three strategies for handling this possible Motorbike vs. Cop scenario:
Strategy One: Run- odds are that most cops would rather pursue easier prey than exert effort. The downside (besides the very real possibility of hitting a cow at an unfortunately high speed), if they DO decide to chase you and you are caught, they have obvious leverage in any future negotiation - whether it be for payment or prison.
Strategy Two: Hide your money. If you don't have it, they can't take it. But they can arrest you. Therein lies my problem with Strategy Two.
Strategy Three: Pay the 500 rupee "fine" and recoup the 11 dollars in your first hour of work at Starbucks when you get home.
At 3:00am the bar closes at Paradiso. On this particular evening we meet beautiful Kazakh girls and the owner of the club. I was both flattered and disturbed that the owner was so interested in taking my picture. Weeks later, I find these pictures on the club's website, cropped perfectly to feature my gorgeous entourage and the very edge of my shoulder.
Having left the club, we're back on our bikes. At the first intersection two cops stop us. The Kazakh's pull over, Ed pulls to their side and I stop behind them. As the cops dismount their bikes and approach us, I watch Ed's feet leave the ground. He slowly navigates his way from the dirt shoulder back to pavement. In a surprisingly slow fashion, he drives away. The cops look at each other. One sighs, jumps on his bike and chases after Ed.
"Did Ed really just flee?"
"He your friend?" The cop asks.
"Of course not," is the correct response, I think, so I use it. He asks for a license, which I hand him.
"New York," he reads out loud.
"That's right. If you can drive in New York City, you can drive anywhere!" I immediately regret talking.
Kazakh's nervously admit they forgot theirs.
"If you don't have your license, you have to come to the police station with me and pay a 500 rupee fine." The cop states plainly.
One of the Kazakh smiles and produces a 500-rupee note from her shirt - the only bill in on her.
Strategy Four: Have just enough money to bribe the allotted amount, nothing more. If you don't have it, they can't extort it. That way, everyone is happy, and no one goes to jail.
Strategy Five: Carry your license. This is my favorite strategy. If that fails, see Strategy Four.
Now the next dilemma: Where the HELL is Ed?
ED'S STORY - as told by Justin (yes, me)
I'm not going to lie to you - as mentioned, Ed has had a couple drinks. D.A.R.E was right kids, it had an impact on his decision making.
Five minutes after his gradual getaway, Ed – now lost - feels the glow of a headlight coming from behind. Assuming it is me - that I would follow him in his daring escape- he pulls over.
The cop is pissed. He tells Ed to get off his bike, to come with him, that he is going to jail.
"No no no, I didn't understand the uniform, I thought you were trying to rob us!" (Note: This was clever. I'm impressed.)
The cop was not impressed. He literally pulls at Ed to get off his bike. He wants Ed behind bars.
Ed thinks he's Batman after a bottle of bourbon. And, while noble, it costs him. "Clearly we can settle this between us," Ed says with confidence- his proverbial cape flapping in the wind.
The cop just laughs.
Bartering Strategy 1: Don't drink and barter, folks.
Result: Ed ends up loosing all his money and shirt.
The waiters at our hotel - the nicest place to stay on the beach of Anjuna - make 4,000 rupee's a month. This civil servant made 2,000 in 10 minutes.
With their business transaction complete, the cop politely gives Ed directions back to the hotel.
We reunite back at the hotel with just enough time to continue drinking before our 9am bus.
With two unused weeks of vacation, I decided to go to India...
This story takes place somewhere between the invention of the motorbike and the bus I caught to Pune.
Like any great democracy, India is the land of infinite possibilities, for example one possibility is to get robbed by the police. I've heard many stories about the Goan police and their handling of Caucasian motor bikers. To drive a motorbike in India, you technically need a license. Whether it's a motorcycle license or a lamented self-portrait, is unclear. The point is, a major source of income for these officers is solicited bribes from bikers.
I've learned three strategies for handling this possible Motorbike vs. Cop scenario:
Strategy One: Run- odds are that most cops would rather pursue easier prey than exert effort. The downside (besides the very real possibility of hitting a cow at an unfortunately high speed), if they DO decide to chase you and you are caught, they have obvious leverage in any future negotiation - whether it be for payment or prison.
Strategy Two: Hide your money. If you don't have it, they can't take it. But they can arrest you. Therein lies my problem with Strategy Two.
Strategy Three: Pay the 500 rupee "fine" and recoup the 11 dollars in your first hour of work at Starbucks when you get home.
At 3:00am the bar closes at Paradiso. On this particular evening we meet beautiful Kazakh girls and the owner of the club. I was both flattered and disturbed that the owner was so interested in taking my picture. Weeks later, I find these pictures on the club's website, cropped perfectly to feature my gorgeous entourage and the very edge of my shoulder.
Having left the club, we're back on our bikes. At the first intersection two cops stop us. The Kazakh's pull over, Ed pulls to their side and I stop behind them. As the cops dismount their bikes and approach us, I watch Ed's feet leave the ground. He slowly navigates his way from the dirt shoulder back to pavement. In a surprisingly slow fashion, he drives away. The cops look at each other. One sighs, jumps on his bike and chases after Ed.
"Did Ed really just flee?"
"He your friend?" The cop asks.
"Of course not," is the correct response, I think, so I use it. He asks for a license, which I hand him.
"New York," he reads out loud.
"That's right. If you can drive in New York City, you can drive anywhere!" I immediately regret talking.
Kazakh's nervously admit they forgot theirs.
"If you don't have your license, you have to come to the police station with me and pay a 500 rupee fine." The cop states plainly.
One of the Kazakh smiles and produces a 500-rupee note from her shirt - the only bill in on her.
Strategy Four: Have just enough money to bribe the allotted amount, nothing more. If you don't have it, they can't extort it. That way, everyone is happy, and no one goes to jail.
Strategy Five: Carry your license. This is my favorite strategy. If that fails, see Strategy Four.
Now the next dilemma: Where the HELL is Ed?
ED'S STORY - as told by Justin (yes, me)
I'm not going to lie to you - as mentioned, Ed has had a couple drinks. D.A.R.E was right kids, it had an impact on his decision making.
Five minutes after his gradual getaway, Ed – now lost - feels the glow of a headlight coming from behind. Assuming it is me - that I would follow him in his daring escape- he pulls over.
The cop is pissed. He tells Ed to get off his bike, to come with him, that he is going to jail.
"No no no, I didn't understand the uniform, I thought you were trying to rob us!" (Note: This was clever. I'm impressed.)
The cop was not impressed. He literally pulls at Ed to get off his bike. He wants Ed behind bars.
Ed thinks he's Batman after a bottle of bourbon. And, while noble, it costs him. "Clearly we can settle this between us," Ed says with confidence- his proverbial cape flapping in the wind.
The cop just laughs.
Bartering Strategy 1: Don't drink and barter, folks.
Result: Ed ends up loosing all his money and shirt.
The waiters at our hotel - the nicest place to stay on the beach of Anjuna - make 4,000 rupee's a month. This civil servant made 2,000 in 10 minutes.
With their business transaction complete, the cop politely gives Ed directions back to the hotel.
We reunite back at the hotel with just enough time to continue drinking before our 9am bus.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Cody writes; 2.10.09
"Real World" by Cody Sullivan
Some people have asked me if I’m ready for life outside of academia, outside of internships.
Answer
Two weeks left of school for me. Soon, I’ll graduate. Big boys’ table, here I come. Booster seat, monsieur? Non, ça va.
Teachers will retire to honor me.
Fact 1: I now possess a whale-load of knowledge. I’ll drop bodies with this mental ammo.
Antique Rivet Interview:
Boss: What are your qualifications?
Me: Hmm, let’s begin with my essence.
Fact 2: I know the real world. One time, two people got into a fight about whether I invented it.
Real world: full of disgruntled, attractive people living together in one house. Some confrontational. Some wicked hetero. Some with cleavage. Many with diseases.
MTV provided this insight. Thus, I walk into the world prepared.
Fact 3: My innate sense of direction is better than any Google map.
Conclusion: I’m now really smart.
Bigger Conclusion: I once taught a paradox to a small child to purposely explode his head. It worked. That’s a real world application.
So, am I ready?
I think so.
-Cody
Some people have asked me if I’m ready for life outside of academia, outside of internships.
Answer
Two weeks left of school for me. Soon, I’ll graduate. Big boys’ table, here I come. Booster seat, monsieur? Non, ça va.
Teachers will retire to honor me.
Fact 1: I now possess a whale-load of knowledge. I’ll drop bodies with this mental ammo.
Antique Rivet Interview:
Boss: What are your qualifications?
Me: Hmm, let’s begin with my essence.
Fact 2: I know the real world. One time, two people got into a fight about whether I invented it.
Real world: full of disgruntled, attractive people living together in one house. Some confrontational. Some wicked hetero. Some with cleavage. Many with diseases.
MTV provided this insight. Thus, I walk into the world prepared.
Fact 3: My innate sense of direction is better than any Google map.
Conclusion: I’m now really smart.
Bigger Conclusion: I once taught a paradox to a small child to purposely explode his head. It worked. That’s a real world application.
So, am I ready?
I think so.
-Cody
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