Naughty by nature, not cause I hate ya

I don't really remember when I acquired the shirt.

I want to say it was in 1995 and I think I accidentally stole it from my best friend growing up, Travis Castleman, who is now married and the proud father of two.

As for me, no kids yet. I just brag about shirts that have been in the rotation for more than 17 years.

This was the scene on Saturday before a boat trip to Jost with Capt. Morgan and Ms. Carrie. Surrounded by beautiful women is just half of what I adore living on these fine islands.

I also love it when my continental friends send me photos and messages that bring me back to the States. It happened early Saturday as I was buying cheap beer and beef jerky at a neighborhood grocery store.

My good friends Dana and Doug, their daughter Kate, and Dana's father (who is one of the best hikers on the trail these days), who goes by the name Baltimore Bob, send me this photo while they were driving to a family retreat for the weekend.

Anything associated with a family retreat brings me joy. When you throw in some hard-core rappers from the 1990's, it just makes my day...

I immediately put on my favorite shirt. They had inspired me. Via facebook.

Who doesn't like Naughty By Nature? Everyone with their hands raised, please stop reading now and log on to weirdo.com. Never heard of them -- I do have some late bloomers reading these days -- then go ahead and get your google on.

My friend, the Hersh, told me they performed at the BVI Music Festival earlier this month. And I wasn't there? For shame.

OK. Kind of forgot what I was writing about or the point I was trying to make. But please take this away: I love my friends, they literally dictate my fashion choices for the day and I'm down with O.P.P. Yeah, you know me.

Super Bowl in paradise

It's been three weeks since the New York Giants won the Super Bowl and I'm still riding that wave.

I ordered the Sports Illustrated subscription with the free Giants swag, reluctantly removed the Giants logo as my facebook profile picture and now a guy named Jeremy Lin has quickly become the new king of New York.

Funny how fast things can happen.

But before I turn my Sunday sports attention toward PBA Bowling, I wanted to put a few photos up that documented that glorious February night in the Caribbean.

First, it all started out with a pig roast at the Dog House Pub. Check out what the cook wrote near the pig's ass. (From the Simpsons: the best meat is in the rump).

They set up some projector screens at the pub and of course the party started early. I started to grab random rastas. Usually, that is not a smart move but my team was in the Super Bowl, bitch. Just like Big Ern McCracken, I was finally above the law.

Then Eli Manning did what he does best and rallied the G-Men back in the fourth quarter. It was a great moment in sports and definitely something I will remember for years to come (even though I had to watch SportsCenter the next day to confirm it actually happened).

The week leading into the big game, lots of people knew of my allegiance to Big Blue and wondered where I would watch the big game.

On a small island, this can be a tough decision. Few options.

I considered locking myself in a dark room with just a chair and a television. Then Brianna suggested we have people over and have a small party -- nothing serious.

I was cool with the idea until I realized my potential for disaster. This wasn't just your typical Super Bowl. For Christ sakes, my team was in it, so this was serious. Very serious. Not sure if I could handle the emotional ups and downs of my team in the Super Bowl with house guests just watching my every move. Nope, not going to happen.

Met a guy who was running a boat trip to Jost and watching the game with a projector on the beach. I've been to Jost many times. I actually got kicked off of Jost once. Yeah, I'm sure I blogged about that little excursion. This plan seemed like pouring gasoline on the fire.

My only retreat was a local bar. And not just any bar...

Pedro (upper right corner) is the owner of the DHP and a solid Giants fan. I knew I could find refuge there regardless of the score. Later on, when Pedro was dancing on the bar, he hurt his knee and was on crutches the next day. Small price to pay, my friend.

The Giants brought us together and the Eli Manning rasta knew how to keep the celebration party going.

Somehow, I found my way to Betsy's Bar for a nightcap and the Super Bowl party continued. There may not be a lot of Giants fans on the Rock, but that didn't stop me.

So for the rest of you football fans on island or across the globe, you can suck it. Giants are the Super Bowl champions. And that is my Super Bowl blog post. Did you have a good time? I sure did.

British battle scars

So another Virgin Islands cherry was popped over the weekend.

I finally made it to England -- actually, it was the small island of Jost Van Dyke -- for the first time and upon telling this to my cohorts, shots of vodka suddenly appeared.

I also met one of the most interesting people, in my opinion, from around these parts.

Foxy, the proprietor of Foxy's Beach Bar, is legendary. Thousands of people venture out to his bar on Jost (which is the British Virgin Islands) every New Year's Eve for a huge party. I already asked him to save me a seat for 2012.

When our boat crew came ashore about 11 a.m. last Saturday, a few people on board decided to pay him a visit and he did not disappoint. First of all, he's been knighted by the Queen of England -- no joke. And word has it he was the first and only person to enter the Royal Palace barefoot.

He wasn't wearing any shoes Saturday and within minutes of meeting him, he started to belt out rhymes that described just about any city in the U.S. All you had to do what name it: Dallas, Camden, NJ, Compton -- he had a descriptive and well-thought out rhyme for each.

After doing a shot of fire water with Foxy, we moved on to other popular watering holes on Water Bay. Everyone always talks about The Soggy Dollar and their pain killers. It was cool but my favorite spot was One Love. It was 3 p.m., they had live music and I could barely keep myself from falling off the bar stool.

My friend Josh was also enjoying a rare day off and together, we decided to get weird.

JOSH: "Let's just keep drinking Jager."

ME: "Are you crazy? I have a wife and kids. I can't get all wasted in the middle of the day."

JOSH: "Sounds like you've already had too many."

ME: "Bartender! We'll take two shots of Jager, please."

The day continued on that pace until I realized I hadn't eaten any food yet. I fell back to our boat and bulldozed into our group's snack bag. The captain was no where to be found but the beers on board were ice cold and the party location shifted.

My beautiful girlfriend and her bikini-clad lady friends decided to lay out on the boat. My friend Jerry would call it 'Deck Candy' and I kept fumbling around looking for my camera. He took a picture of his girlfriend on a boat once, sent it into a boating magazine and now she is a magazine cover model.

The day wore on and my alcohol level remained heightened. Right before we left, I held two bottled beers (one in each hand) and tried to negotiate a big floated thing that was on the front of the boat. My boating terminology is grand. My obstacle course skills were impaired and I fell flat on my face but I managed to keep the beers upright so it was a minor victory.

No one saw the spectacle except for the boat captain, who did not laugh and just said, "I've seen so many people do that before..."

Falling on your face can be hilarious. But there was a rusty screw that stuck out where my exposed torso majestically glided across the boat surface. It was not cool. It left a bloody streak that started near my left nipple and ended in my armpit hair. Good thing I have such a muscular chest.

I was embarassed and my girlfriend was ashamed. What would Foxy think of my exploits? I wonder if he showed the Queen any of his drunken battle wounds?

I hope I don't get hepatitis or Mad Cow Disease. You can never trust the British.