Quentin: 1

 

First Blog

   Hello dear readers. Obviously, it’s just us reading and writing this for our own amusement. As dumb or weird as this idea is, I really want to give it a try and allow all of us a platform to speak about anything that matters to us. Think of it as a journal, but one that can be used to teach open minds about anything you care about. Yesterday was a bit of a whirlwind in terms of setup, so all I’ll say is if you do not want to participate, you absolutely do not have to, but if you do, I think it’ll be a fruitful endeavor. All peer pressure aside, I’m excited to see what we all decide to focus on and how we let the idea of our excerpts flourish in our minds throughout the time between posts. This being the first blog, I’m simply going to detail a small memory I have with each member. Also, this may get long; your blogs can be much, much, much shorter. 

Author’s Note- I’m serious, this is way too long I got carried away.

Lucas

Lucas, being one of my brothers, obviously has a litany of memories I can choose from, but I think one will always stand above the rest, and that’s our trips to Pizza Hut. County Road 1 used to house a Pizza Hut location right next to a 7/11. As young kids (I can’t exactly pinpoint the age), Lucas and I used to bike to this Pizza Hut. On Wednesdays they offered BOGO boneless wings, and being raised by Gus, we had to indulge. We would get money from our mom, bike to the Pizza Hut, order our wings, and while we waited, walk over to 7/11 to get a beverage. I would always get the banana Slurpee, the best flavor ever, and, like clockwork, the wings would be ready for us upon our return. We would sit together on the curb and scarf down the wings, washing down bites with banana Slurpee. It’s the small details I remember most from these days. How fast he would ride his bike through the dead end forest while my wheels shifted in the sand, terrified I’d crash. How he’d always carry the money and order for us because I was a child. How silent it would be while we devoured our wings. And Lucas putting the boneless wings between his outstretched legs on the curb. The Pizza Hut no longer stands, and the 7/11 no longer carries the banana Slurpee, but the memories last a lifetime. 

Aaron

Aaron and I have garnered a bit of a reputation, but believe it or not, we’re actually human and enjoy watching movies together and doing regular human things. However, this memory is not that. I’m not sure which of us spurred the idea, but one mundane day we decided to spice up our afternoon by looking for treasure. We drove around the entire city of Palm Harbor, stopping at driveways and grabbing whatever we found valuable. There was a greasy fryer that was just trash; we didn’t grab that. A globe completed with its stand, a lamp, and even a bag of golf clubs. The excitement we had yelling “treasure treasure” was unlike anything. I would drive, and Aaron would scan, like a hawk, the curbs of every house, trying to find our next big hit. We stopped at a garage sale that had nothing, then we found the Piece de resistance. A small wooden children’s play cabinet, complete with a stove and little fridge to boot. We laughed and loaded it into the car before gifting it to friends at their housewarming party. They left it outside. There it sat at their curb, continuing the cycle, waiting for the next lucky people to dig up this buried treasure (it was taken by the trash company after a week). 

Will

Piggybacking on the idea of Aaron’s and my movie viewings brings me to Will. While it’d be easy to pick a memory like him showing up to my (half) Iron Man and taking film photos while cheering me on, or focus on our many days spent together playing Valorant, I have one memory that kills. M. Night Shyamalan released his newest feature, TRAP, last year. Will, armed with a tall boy IPA and I, armed with a pack of Nerds Gummy Clusters were ready for the night of a lifetime. The Oldsmar crowd was receiving the entire movie in earnest. Lines like “You know the Butcher? The freakin’ nut job who goes around chopping people up” were met with nothing. That’s where Will and I enter the picture. Our joint laughs barreled through the silence. Every other line had us wheezing; the music had us dancing. This movie that would’ve otherwise been unremarkable was a genuine masterpiece because of the energy within the theater. Soon after leaving the theater, we were chastised by the group for “laughing like toddlers,” but I think that’s just a compliment, we had a good time.

August

August and I have the most time spent together for anyone who’s not my blood relative, so the stories are bountiful. Sleeping in a tent at the Grand Canyon with wolves outside (we swear there were wolves), or doing the triathlon, or training for it together. But one story reigns supreme. In high school, August used to live in the next neighborhood over, allowing him to come over every day after school. He would eat a few Oreos every day when we got to my house without fail. He also had a routine where he would get a soda out of the fridge and pour it into a glass, standing over it while the bubbles went down with one hand on his hip. The painstaking process preceded our daily bout of NHL on the PS4. After the battle, August was headed home. On his way out the door, I gave him a fresh pack of Oreos for home. He was overcome with happiness and gave me a hug. Then he went for a sort of a European cheek kiss, but because we were hugging the kiss was misplaced onto my neck. We both sharply pulled back, looked at each other, and he left without a word. He called me five minutes later. I said, “What the fuck was that, man?” and we both laughed probably the hardest we ever had. He hasn’t come near my neck since.

Chris

Chris has been my friend since he was in kindergarten. He was the next-door neighbor whose door we would knock on every day and ask his parents, “Are they allowed to play today?” Whether it was his pronunciation of the word picture, or us setting up our anti-screening blanket for Call of Duty, Chris, Nathan, and I were together. Recently I went up to Tallahassee to visit him. He had a whole itinerary that took us to a live screen printing event; we saw a really big tree, and we went to a crazy, insane Airbnb that a fashion brand was using to film Black Friday ads. Chris is fearless. We walked into the Airbnb, and he immediately began talking to everyone while I became a recluse. We spent time getting to know the ins and outs of these guys and their goals. Chris showed how good his WearWojo engagement is and they ogled. Then he uncorked the real reason we were there. He asked to jump in the pool. They got pumped for us and told us to go right ahead. While this group was diligently working, we changed into our bathing suits and jumped into an absolutely massive indoor pool. The water was so refreshing, but more so was the feeling of jumping in. It felt like Chris and I somehow had this massive place to ourselves. He also did skateboard tricks that I got on video. Awesome.

J.P.

J.P. has always had a drive to be perfect at whatever he does. There is, as far as I know, one thing that he could not do well that he truly set his mind to. That one thing is not falling off of the tube that we both occupied while being pulled by Ryan. As Raechel filmed, we logged countless attempts wherein we attempted to humble Ryan and finally reveal him as just an “okay” tube tower. However, he put all of these accusations to bed with his boating prowess. Water splashing our face as J.P. and I jockey for position in a tube in some random pocket of water in New Jersey. Our legs were sore from how we had to sit on our knees. J.P. screaming “LEFT LEFT LEFT” to stabilize us once we were outside of the wake, as if he was a coxswain on a professional rowboat. All for nothing, again and again we would be hurled into the water, surfacing, coughing up the copious amounts of water we had just swallowed. The big problem with tubing with J.P. is your mouth will always be open when you inevitably crash because you cannot stop laughing. The unbridled joy that came from being thrown around like ragdolls was too much to bear. The leg cramps that came after, the Nerds Gummy Clusters, and the cigars enjoyed under the moonlight were all just exclamation marks on that day. 

Ryan

Speaking of Ryan, I am actually going to pick the obvious memory for once and focus on the marathon that we completed in December. His diligence was unbelievable, and the progress from the first day to the last was unparalleled. It’s impossible to highlight a favorite part of that day, so I’ll just name a few. Him giving me his jacket before the race started because I was the coldest I’ve ever been. Me then throwing said jacket in the bushes .25 miles into the race. Him giving me the wrong phone number for his own mother’s phone, so when I called her mid-race I ended up asking a bewildered 80-year-old woman for baby powder at mile 4 over and over. Him and I leading a pace group and him making conversation with everyone around us. His excitement at his family at multiple stops throughout the race. The best part, now that I’ve listed it all out, was hugging him after crossing the finish line. He could enjoy the fruits of his labor. Wait, actually, my favorite part was walking to his parent’s car and getting the jacket out of the bush I had left it in 5 hours prior. 

Nathan

Now to the little brother. Nathan and I have shared countless road trips to Minnesota. Most of the time he’s fast asleep in the back because we don’t ever let him drive (our mom really really likes driving I’m not even kidding he tries). This last year our mom became angry at the road trip dynamic because while she would drive Nathan and I would plug in and tune out, but when I would drive, Nathan would assume his mantle as co-pilot. We shared many little moments, like listening to every cover of Linger by the Cranberries on Spotify and ranking them as they played. The most important, however, came in Wisconsin. The Olympic gold medal basketball match was about to start, Nathan quickly devised a plan to mount his phone on the center screen and connect to Bluetooth while streaming the game on Peacock. For the next however long, we cheered on the U.S. and agonized over the athleticism of the french player Yabusele. That is until Steph hit four consecutive threes within the last 2 minutes. Every shot, my eye would dart from the road to the screen (don’t worry there were no other cars on the road) (forget my past 2 accidents I beg). Nathan and I lost our minds in the front seat of that car, the giddiness propelled us into a donut frenzy at the next gas station we could find. Just a couple of brothers toolin’ around.

Kedrick

Oh hey, I mentioned one brother, might as well throw Ked into the mix. In San Francisco, late one night after (I think) our cousin’s rehearsal dinner, Kedrick and I were restless. It was after 10 p.m., and our family was getting ready for bed in the hotel room when we decided to embark. I’ll say we walked a half mile until we reached our oasis, Fisherman’s Wharf Applebee’s. We approached the eerily quiet building and came to a set of doors. Within them held a large stairwell, with a puddle of vomit placed squarely in the middle of said stairwell. We trudged on, while taking a selfie of course, and took our seats at the bar. I can’t remember what we ate, but I remember his giant glass of beer and my giant-er glass of blue sugary alcohol. We sat and talked about movies and nothing for the next couple hours, enjoying each other's company. It was his birthday a few days before, and I think this night was a good enough present on my end, puke and all. We walked back to the hotel, a little drunker than we were before, through the fog and all, to find our family sleeping. We got pretzels and beer cheese; that’s what it was.

Bryce

At long last, we’ve made it to the final person. Of course I had to save the fellow idea man for last. Bryce and I do so many random things it’s genuinely impossible to list them all. From having a tight schedule, to fly fishing, to driving to Orlando and him getting mad at me for only singing parts of songs, we’ve been through a lot. I was going to write about my birthday and how Bryce and I spent the whole day together doing whatever I wanted until I realized the real Bryce story is the pinball machine. August had asked me if I wanted to go to Boston with him for spring break. As we built a group, I approached Aaron, who was in a Discord call with Bryce. Bryce and I hardly knew each other, next thing we’re meeting at Starbucks to plan out our itinerary for Boston. We immediately got to work, but had to resolve one issue. The pinball machine in my back room had to be out of the house, and we needed gas money. Bryce got on Facebook Marketplace faster than anyone I’ve ever seen and made a listing. Before I knew it some old haggler with long greasy hair past his shoulders was at my door inspecting the machine. After his meager attempts to bargain failed, we loaded the pinball machine into the bed of a truck that Bryce had borrowed. It was in that truck bed that I sat, carefully stabilizing a pinball machine on, what felt like, the bumpiest roads in the world. Upon arrival we unloaded the machine and walked up the ramp into the man’s house, only to be met with a barking caged dog and one dim lamp in the corner of the room. The man had a room of pinball machines and we put ours in the center. I can only imagine this is how Courage the Cowardly Dog felt all the time. Bryce and I exchanged knowing looks, this is where we would die. Ultimately after some grueling and uncomfortable small talk, he handed over the money and we were on our merry way. Boston was fun too.

And that’s it. Sorry guys, I didn’t expect it to be this long, but I got really carried away telling these stories. You are all great, and I’m very excited for this. Let the creative juices flow. And preferably in less than 2,600 words. Jesus, man.