Hey I'm raising money to help fight cancer, I need to raise $100 USD by this weekend. The event is the Relay for Life, it's a pretty big deal and a worthy cause. Donate as little or preferably as much as you have in your bank account, and I will walk all night Saturday night knowing that you helped me out. Go to my donation page and enter numbers.

Appreciate it ladies and other ladies and fellas.

Posted by Smit at 11:42 PM | Comments (877)

In with the old, out with the new

As you can tell, I've changed the layout back to the old version simply because I've gotten sick of the new one with how I can't edit it at all without chopping up the images, and it looks fucked up in any browser besides PC IE. I'm in talks with a programmer from England to get my latest project off the ground. Be back later. BYybeybeye.

Posted by Smit at 10:29 PM | Comments (940)


Holla I'm looking for somebody to program a site for me. Since I know jack shit about real nitty gritty computer programming with PHP and MySQL databases, I'm looking to hire somebody. It shouldn't be too hard of a task for even the novice coder. Email me if you are interested... and I'll explain the job to you then. I'll pay you and hook you up with other crap. BYE.

Posted by Smit at 12:09 AM | Comments (1090)


Everyone has been anticipating the post with the recap and pictures of our trip last week to Miami, well almost everyone, probably everyone has already deserted this site after having been lied to and let down on numerous occassions. But to those that are in fact still with me, thank you for being mindless sheep, and I'll continue on with this.

Saturday we left the Burg at 5:30 AM to head on down to Cocoa Beach, Florida to stay with Ryan's aunt, a mere thirteen hours away. Not even twenty minutes into the ride, I nearly wrapped the Rodeo around a mountain due to the sheer jolt of a medium sized rabbit hopping across the road directly in my path. Luckily I didn't hit him or better yet didn't swerve to send the car out of control. Definitely a wake up call and here on out, I would not stop or brake for anything smaller than a large rabbit.

After driving the entire thirteen hours, considering I was in the zone and I'm very protective of my baby, my sweet shweet Rodayo, we pulled into Taco City to kick off the week's celebrations.

We stayed at Ryan's aunt's place, a real nice place at that, surrounded by waterways and only a premium drug deal spot seperated us from the beach. Teggy, Angel, and Ryan hit up the air mattresses while Ed got the couch. I, you ask, got the guest room's queen sized bed, all to myself. The guys deemed it appropriate that I get the bed for my miraculous achievement of driving the entire way, but I really I knew, and now you know, that they were just suckers and fell into my scheme to get the bed all along.

I was awoken at about 8:30 AM with Ryan in my face petting me, surprising me with the fact that there was a famous person hosting a party that we were going to attend the next night. I actually think that this occurrence happened on that Monday morning pertaining to that night's event, but it's too late now and I'm going with the flow. I had no clue and no time to guess before he blurted out "Paris Hilton", and right then my heart dropped and my wallet fattened as I exclaimed "Are you serious?" in an instant. What a way to start the day, riding on the high that I would finally meet the bitch complete with a home made breakfast with fresh squeezed Florida orange juice.

The five of us jumped into his aunt's six person boat to head out to the waterway and eventually the Atlantic. It being my first time on a boat with a motor, I quickly adjusted to the fact that I do not get seasick. Only sunburnt to a crisp with a wife beater outline across my upper torso. We made it out to the ocean where we chased pods of dolphins and enjoyed their company before they caught sight of my pocket harpoon in which they scurried, disappearing and never giving me the chance to apologize and explain that it was all in good fun. The manatees however were too slow and rugged to get away from my cruel kindhearted pranks, and it took four of my pocket harpoons, an industrial meathook, and a boat propeller to finally get the point across that I'm not fucking around.

Back to the house, we chilled out and played drinking games while consuming all the alcohol in the household, whether we knew how to pronounce it or not. We also were treated to the nicest meal all week, homemade thick t-bone steaks with potatoes, salad, corn, and all the works. Ed sweated profusesly at the table and was the butt of all the jokes. I got the royal treatment again that night by getting the guestroom bed, I snickered at the thought of the guys in the living room on vinyl air mattresses as they probably lawled at my hideous and painful sunburn.

Fuck, it's only Monday and I've written more than I seriously have written since November.

Monday, we head out to I-95 to our ultimate spring break destination, Miami. Three hours later, we finally reach the end of I-95 to where it breaks off into a new road, which eventually leads us to our hotel, the luxurious Hyatt Regency at Coral Gables. We are greeted by a valet and concierge, and we make our way up to the 11th floor, past the 5th floor pool and spa, to our room, only to find out that there's a charge for wireless internet. Scrap, there goes that idea, sorry chumps. The rest of the day we chilled poolside drinking our mixed drinks and 16 ounce Miller High Life's amidst the wealthy and powerful Latin businessmen that shared their stays with us. We were the only college kids in the entire resort, with many of the other residents being Latin businessmen as I just stated before but wanted to reititerate the fact because it's important to get that point across.

That night we take a twenty dollar cab, a sweet ten dollars off deal that we would promise to call the cabbie to pick us up at the end of the night, but in the end, of course, he pockets his money off the meter and never returns to pick us up. We arrive at Nikki Beach, one of South Beach's upscale posh clubs where Paris Hilton was hosting this "Models and Bottles" party. Here I was, ready to pay 20 bucks cover charge and insane amounts for liquor inside in exchange for even a glimpse of Ms. Hilton. Turns out the deal fell through since not everyone in our party was 21, so we scrapped that idea only to hit up the rest of the strip. South Beach is a party no matter where you go, and we went to the Liquor Lounge, where everyone could drink, no matter the legality. Sometime that night we were standing outside a theater or club, and the one and only, well I personally thought it was an impersonator, but the one and only Boy George was standing not even a trashcan's length away from us, smoking a cigarette in the street. I snagged a picture for old time's sake, still convinced it wasn't him, until we see him on the red carpet for an awards show the next night on a Miami news channel. DAMN, our chance came and went to score some yayo.

Tuesday we walk three miles to the University of Miami, a nice ass campus, practically a country club, beautiful weather and beautiful ladies in beautiful thongs and beautiful toplessesses. The university swimming pool used for intercollegiate competition is outside in the middle of what appears to be the common area or dining grounds. Definitely would be a huge distraction as I am sitting at a table, eating with a girl who bought me lunch with her meal plan, yip yapping about the latest fondu while I am staring directly over her shoulder, practically burning a hole into Greg Louganis' speedo as he attempts a double backflip swan dive into the water with little to zero splash. We all bought shirts from the bookstore, and I don't remember what else happened partly because I was intoxicated with Ed and partly because I have a degenerative brain disease, which is not funny. I do remember trying to get into the library only to be slapped with a 5 dollar entry fee and required student ID card to jump on the internet to update the site for you guys, so that was obviously not successful, which is fucking hilarious.

That night, we went to Bayside in Miami, another hip nightspot for all the young and beautiful to converge, where we ate at world famous Bubba Gump's. It must have been something at that venue that gave me the jeebers, as I threw up twice in the bathroom before even getting to our table. I ordered a burger medium well, only to get served what must have been a medium rare or pure raw beef since it was much more pink than I have ever, ever seen. I threw up multiple times after sticking all that pink in my face at once only to be courted home by Ryan and put to bed. Could have been the combo of drinking all day with Ed, sun poisoning blisters on my shoulders and back, and goddamn all that pink, that put me over the edge.

I am running out of breath.

Wednesday, we hit up Ft. Lauderdale to see Angel's sister and her friend, and to hit up the Marlins and Orioles Spring Training game. The highlight of the game was the bird, macaw, parrot, who gives a fuck, birds are stupid and are all the same, that was cool at first, but moods quickly turned sour as he squawked his way into annoyance and nagginess. I have pictures of the bird and you can see the baseball palyers in the background, looking up in the stands right at me, wondering what the fuck that noise is, and I'm just playing it cool "Dude, it ain't me, fellas, ain't my bird either, shiiiiet" and pointed to the bird to quickly take all eyes and blame off me. The owner of the bird was some fatass who obviously never gets laid, definitely can tell by the love and attention he gives to those damn birds, and not to mention the globs of bird shit all over his back.

We head back to Angel's sister's hotel, right dab smack in the middle of the Ft. Lauderdale college spring break mecca, wet teeshirt contests and bikini contests galore. Hit up some restaraunt and feel like shit again from too much sunpoison and not enough sunantidote. Ryan too began to fall ill, as he soon took over the role as primary puker and I slipped into the relief regurgitator.

Thursday, we hit up Monkey Jungle, where the humans are caged and the monkeys run free. Definitely cool as shit, but kinda hard to get to. We drove half an hour down a main road, hit a detour into a ghetto neighborhood where the windows were rolled up, doors locked, music turned low and jokes ensued about how we were in fact at the real monkey jungle, where we were caged in the car and well, don't shoot me I'm just the messenger, the monkeys were running around sippin' forties of orange drink or red drink and shooting berettas. Laughter eased the tension and fears in our caged up ride until we reached the real monkey jungle, where the humans walk around and the primates run around and piss all over the human walkways. We fed the monkeys and I ended up taking a hundred pictures of these damn monkeys. Enjoy those fucking monkeys.

That night, we took a gambling cruise out to international waters where drinks were free and the ladies were abundant. I came out on top by winning 30 dollars in black jack, Ryan picked up 60 or so in roulette, should have been more if he went all in, ALL IN RYAN ALL IN, Angel also got lucky with his lucky 7 pick on the roulette wheel, reaping him 60 or so bucks, I don't know, but Ed lost 40 bucks quickly at the same blackjack table that I was at, and Teggy, I have no clue, probably lost his fortune in the slots.

Friday we drove home, well I drove home half way until I surrendered the keys to Angel and Teggy, I just couldn't handle it anymore. Make it back to the Burg 16 hours and 50 degrees less later at 2 AM Saturday.

The Cliff's notes- cocoa beach, boat, dolphins, sunburn, vomit, miami, south beach, paris hilton, boy george, ferrari, sunpoison, pool, throw up, university of miami, bayside, throw up, ft. lauderdale, baseball, parrot, monkey jungle, gamble boat, home. DONE.

Enjoy my pictures, pictures with my camera that I never had when I most needed a camera, but there's tons of monkeys to go around.

Miami 2004 Picture Gallery!

Posted by Smit at 11:29 PM | Comments (1159)

Jamie-Lynn Discala FHM Pictures!

While I have yet to get around to sorting out my Spring Break pictures and stories, I just put up Meadow Soprano's smokin hot photo shoot in April 2004's FHM.


You are welcome, g'day.

Posted by Smit at 06:55 PM | Comments (1564)

Back from Miami

YO! We got back from Miami early Saturday morning after 16 hours in the whip. Sorry we never updated every day as previously promised, but the hotel charged $13.95 a day to use the internet, $13.95 a day that is better used for alcohol, taxi cab fares, and feeding monkeys.

I've taken hundreds of pictures, I'll sort through them and post the real update about it shortly.

Posted by Smit at 12:49 PM | Comments (1206)

Party in the Smitty where the heat is on

YO! Angel, Teggy, Ryan, Ed Brookover the Third, and yours truly are heading down to Miami for our college Spring Break. We are staying at a 5 STAR HOTEL (actually 4 stars, but since we are staying for free, it bumps up the luxury up a notch). Angel's dad is hooking us up with this sweet deal, complete with free bath robes and free wireless internet.

Which brings us this exclusive Smithappens.com Spring Break feature. Since we have free wireless internet, and I am bringing my laptop, we are going to be updating every day with lots of pictures! The five of us will take turns bringing you five different perspectives about the experiences we will share together. Sure to include plenty of alcohol, the sand and the sea, naked ladies, and FREE WIRELESS INTERNET!

Ryan wants to go to this place where you pay 12 bucks to play with monkeys. COUNT ME IN.

We are going to the Florida Marlins vs. Baltimore Orioles exhibition game on Wednesday. Marlins are my favorite team, as are the Patriots in the NFL, LSU Tigers in college football, Syracuse in NCAA basketball, Spurs in the NBA, New Jersey Devils in the NHL, the animals in Man vs. Beast, etc., so this works out quite nicely for me.

We are leaving tomorrow at 5:30 to drive 16 billion hours down to Florida. Here is an email my mom wrote to me today... great advice for us and any other Spring Breaker.

smitty-- i hope you have a wonderful but safe trip to miami.. please please drive the speed limit. just a few more suggestions..... if you get a flat tire pull off an exit dont just pull over - people get run over by other vehichles doing that. take sunscreen !!! you can still tan with 15 and not burn.please be careful drinking --- dont get plastered or put in jail for disorderly. dont have sex with strange girls . herpes and hpv are for life!! try to get rest tonight so you are not tired or hungover tomoroow. stop for stretching every once in awhile so you dont get sleepy.dont have the radio too loud.same goes for on the way home. you will be more tired coming back . onemore thing. dont dig a big hole in the sand and put a chair down in it. i read one time where a guy did thta and it caved in and thye couldnt get him out!! just be smart and cautious . i love you!! ohhh - dad said stay out of the foam parties ---he heard they were too wild lov emom and dad.

Posted by Smit at 03:30 PM | Comments (1288)

Chariot of Epicness

Hello folks. Jeremy here. Smitty is letting me write an update to share my elation in the fact that I just purchased his car, the trusty pimpo. Now, I know he already wrote about this fine piece of machinery in a previous entry, but my new experiences are worth telling.

Today I picked the legendary car up from an upscale auto shop where it was being showcased for purchase. The nice man at the shop gave me the keys. No exchange of money, information, or removal of plates. Being the non-stealer that I am, I went to Smitty's house and talked to his mom and dad. They exchanged money for the title and off I went with my new car.

Riding around in the 91 Ford Tempo gave me a rush. Loads of new people honked at me around town. Some who perhaps thought I was Smitty, and others who probably thought I stole his car. No matter. My esteem was at an all time high. Ladies looked in my direction at every stop. They could not resist the masculinity of a grandma car riddled with bullethole stickers. I got out to pump gas and almost used a hammer to open the fuel door. Luckily I am a super genius and looked in the glove box for the hammer when EUREKA!, I found a technilogically superior button that opened the tank for me.

Speaking of technology, this chunk of non-junk comes complete with a child safety system built right into the door no less. When you start to open the driver's side door, it lets out a horrifying screech of metal scraping against metal reminiscent of a fart. How is this safe? Well I'll tell you. Any kid in their right mind would run like hell from that sound, hence escaping from the danger of the opening door. Getting hit in the face with carelessly swung car door is not a pleasant experience. I have to give credit to the creator of this breakthrough Smitnology, Mr. Smitty.

On the way home I listened to the sweet, sweet melody of a chicken sandwich. Thanks to the lack of cd player and radio, I did not have to listen to any of those non-stop-new-rock interupting radio station self promotions, or that stupid fucking Kia commercial about how any trade, any trade, any trade goes. I was a little upset that I couldn't listen to my tape of American Idol's William Hung singing Shebang, but I couldn't complain. I just imagined what it would look like to reupholster the interior of the car so that it would match my eyes. With the wind in my hair from the 3 out of 4 working windows, I plowed down the road.

Driving that car today was an awkwardly pleasant experience and I'll never forget it. Thank you Smitty. Thank you for bestowing upon me this chariot of epicness.

I am on the right (obviously driving the Pimpo), Smitty is on the left (who graciously passed down the honors to me), and a random guy in the middle who came along for the ride.

Posted by Smit at 10:37 PM | Comments (1229)