Of Hobos and Incendary Grenades.

So, like 2 weeks ago at about 4:35am in the lovely AM, obviously…NYC...Andre and I were chased 6 blocks by a hobo. It's a hobo I've avoided walking past for a few weeks and obviously he felt as if we ignored him, of which we're guilty of...and I'm definitely feeling a sense of overwhelming neglect.

I can't decide whether it was neglect or the lack of ketchup...One of them, pushed Bob into madness on that wonderful morning.

Bob is a nice man. Bob is formerly a wall street broker in the 70's-80's (This has been confirmed so, he's not that batshit crazy...yet). Bob's wife cheated on him with a male prostitute while he was on business and that's when he went off the deep end.

On approaching Bob, one finds themselves overwhelmed with Polo Black Label...Not that I have anything against Polo Black, it's my scent of choice...But, when you haven't taken a shower in 6 months, you can pick it up 2 blocks away.

Imagine having an incendiary grenade go off not 50ft from you...From the blast you smell this over-whelming, nauseating smell of shit because, you dropped a big one...Imagine that decay mixed with Vodka and Polo Black...It's scary.

I also don't know how Bob acquires my cologne of choice, I have a hunch it's a department store fluey that transverses down 7th mon/wed/fri but, our suspicions have yet to be validated by a stakeout...I'm suspicious that she dresses him as well...However, right now we're just too afraid of Bob to go back and ask...Eventually, we shall mend this relationship; one with the crazy hobo but, for now, we seek refuge in a concrete garden.

The man, himself, is about 5'10", he has huge bushy eyebrows, graying yet fervently receding brown hair...It's almost like a V, like the guy in the Sapranos, only Bob assures us he did it first. His attention darts back and fourth almost as if he was trying to make eye contact with each and every person he sees only he has the attention span of a parakeet.

He wears an old school grey trench-coat, raggedy a bit but, definitely old Gucci...The ones that make it look like you were in the Army and gave a shit only, you really didn’t so you tossed this on...One of those.

His pants are Hugo Boss, yes ladies and gentleman, Hugo Boss. They're a light blue, with a dark washed look. They have 3 accentuating destroyed holes, one is just below the crotch, one is on the knee and the third is on his right ass cheek. Each hole has strands of jean barely connected to the reality of the other half of the whole...In essence, each time you look at Bob, you can see immediately whether the man has boxers or not and if he's happy to see you...(Don't forget the Polo Black)

His shoes, definitely Armani throwbacks, nuclear green. If it was a forest green, I really wouldn't care but, Bob's outfit is accentuated with Godzilla green...And it is the ugliest thing I've absolutely ever seen.

Bob's choice of shirt on that lovely morning was one of Led Zepplin. Black with some holes; I'm certain, loose enough to grab and yet look noteworthy at the same time.

The day started off regularly enough.

Got in my car at 4:05am, drove to NYC. Arrived by 4:35am and met up with Andre. Got my bag out of the car and spent the next 5 minutes yelling at my pads because they wouldn't cooperate. Finally got them to cooperate and strapped them onto my bag while Andre watched and laughed at me. We then walked to Antony's to get a Red Bull and a Chai.

As we approached the rink we stopped to discuss whether or not Bob would be present this morning, we decided he would not be there and to press forward with caution, sticks at the ready...A plan was devised for immediate action...A battle plan was at the ready.

This is very important: we decided he would not be there and to press forward with caution, sticks at the ready...It was most DEFINITELY a JOINT decision.

One critical mistake however...This morning, we were upwind of Bob.

As we proceeded hurriedly down 7th, there was a sense of overwhelming panic...We knew the risks of not giving the parakeet it's proper attention but, due to my pads being uncooperative, we were a bit behind schedule...At this point, it just wasn't worth the detour.

On this wonderful, dark, quiet and spring-like lovely morning as we tip-toed down 7th...The stench of impunity and decay reared it's ugly head.

Ben: Uh oh...

Andre: I really don't like your uh oh's.

Ben: You smell that?

Andre: Smells like ass.

Ben: No seriously, do you smell that?

Andre: Smells like success?

Ben: No that smells like we're fucked.

Andre: NoooOOooOo I don't believe you.

Ben: CROSS CROSS CROSS CROSS...Like NAO.

Andre: I'm crossing, fuck you.

This is when Bob decided to have a confrontation in the middle of 7th and 43rd...Not in the middle of the sidewalk...In the middle of the street.


Ben: Yo Bob, sup buddeh?

Bob: Hey guys, what's up? How ya ya ya doin? I missed you lately!

Andre: ...W

Bob: Hey you guys wouldn't be trying to avoid me would ya? You know how I HATE that!

Andre: ...N

Ben: Here Bob, have an egg and cheese.

Bob: Oh thanks man, you you you're the best, you always always give me food. (Points at Andre) he he he never gives me anything anything anything!!!

Andre: Here, have my water.

Bob: Wow, water hey thanks thanks a lot, thanks.

This is when we part ways...The cordial man-nod is given. We have been released from impunity’s reign with little or no actual interaction, this was a success.

It was a success for about 1 block...A scream of sheer terror rang fourth.

Bob: THERE'S NO KETCHUP!!!

With sheer hatred, Bob decided to chase us 6 blocks downtown...6 blocks.

For 6 blocks, I ran in true fear...Fear that the insanely upset, angry and vigilant hobo named Bob would catch me and punish me...For a lack of ketchup.

Finally at the 6th block, nearly dying with exhaustion...we rounded a corner and hid in an enclave...Bob ran by; sandwich elevated above his head, affronting his wrath for all to visually digest...a moving moment in my life; I assure you all.

The next day, Bob handed me an opened bottle of water, sorrow in his eyes...It was the man way of apologizing only; I had no idea if the water came from Central Park, Poland Spring or a sewer drain so, happily, I accepted and went on my way.

Cordially distant is now the accepted format for walking down 7th ave. and I'm fine with it.

~~

With World Cup looming, it's hard to decide on vacation...Really hard. 2 pro-prospect goalie camps are being offered in the same week...an old goalie coach has asked me to revisit the week after...A goalie camp of friends in Colorado or World Cup.

They're either stacked week//week//weekend or week/weekend/week...Making decisions very hard...and obviously I have to book flights in advance...

It sucks because either way, I ditch a student, a friend or another pro; that I had previously promised I'd be there...I loathe letting people down which, makes it even harder.

Zach wants to drive down and play cup but, in reality; if I play cup, I won't be giving 100% to the pro camp...I could always go to cup and not play...I know everyone at cup so, I could stand by but, then every 3 seconds, I'd be twitching my fingers, aching for a paintball marker to be in my hands and a pack at my waist...*sigh*

Chevis is coming home too...Seeing the OT guys again is a really high priority...Jack//Ledz and Nicky...Ugh...

Want some advice? ~ Don't try and play 2 sports at once...Especially "pro sports"...and particularly when they're both on-season...It sucks so much ass, it's incredible.

~~

I scared away another girl this week...It appears as if my bluntness is too much occasionally...Which sucks because I normally always give the right answer but, lately it's more about the honest answer than the right answer...

Girl: Would you rather spend the weekend playing Paintball or going to a horse event with me?

Ben: Paintball...

Girl: Okay, well I'll call you when I get back. (She got really huffy)

...I find as I get older, I'm less willing to sacrifice what I want to do to make someone else happy...I don't mind negotiating and occasionally sacrificing but, week after week isn't happening.

There are certain things that I don't mind missing...I do have a DVR...but, things like Paintball or this hockey practice are moments that, I can't relive and missing them, often sucks...

Finding someone that even remotely understands the chaos I deal with has been difficult...

Someone asked me the other day if I intended on having kids...I really couldn't answer...I've had so many psychotic girlfriends that it's made the thought of spawning offspring, nearly impossible...Maybe but, not now...Definitely not now.

So, that's like it for now...I'm going to try to do a blog every few days...So, word.

<~~~>

A lot of people have been asking me why my nickname is Masked...

It started a very very very long time ago...Like 13 years ago...I honestly don't remember why...Some people tell me it's because I owned 15 paintball masks at one point...Others tell me it's because I own 3//4 hockey masks...Idk anymore.

It's the name that graces the back of every paintball jersey I've ever owned (including pro jerseys :P) and every forum name I've ever created...Thus, it lives on in infamy.

Nuff said.