As of today I am officially on hiatus from posting anything more to the site. I've gotten about 1000 views on the blog and it's been a journey I suppose. The support wasn't quite as prevalent as I thought it could have been. The appreciation was there at times. The comments were nonexistent.
I might go back and read some of the stuff I wrote. It will be a good learning experience....I hope. The next time, if there is a next time, I will be better. I promise that. As of right now I'm a little jaded. It should have been better. I should have gotten more viewers. I probably need to be a better writer. I'm not all pissed off though. I'm glad I wrote for as long as I wrote even if it was only to prove to myself that I could keep up with something for as long as I did.
Thanks for reading. It was pleasure while it lasted.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
Man Man Man Manly Man Man
Being a man is tough. A real man. Not a guy, a man. Working in a "professional" setting makes that next to impossible at times. You try to be "masculine" but sometimes you have to be too "presentable" to make that happen. Boots, Wranglers, and a flannel shirt just don't fit with business casual. So do you just throw in the towel? Give up? Get manicures and facials and such? No. But you do have to mix in some femininity to make it work. Let me explain.
Callused hands, dirt under the fingernails, hair matted to your head, smell like old motor oil....these are things that are unacceptable for the professional man. You just can't come to work looking and smelling like you just got done cutting the grass.....in the desert......at noon........in a dust storm.......trailing behind an ox. You must present yourself better, cleaner, and with a little bit of class. Shower it up. Fix your hair. Hands are a tough call. Lotion is for sissies (no arguments please) but when your hands feel like a wood rasp you need to take drastic measures. Get them to feel as close to actual skin as you can.
What to shower with? Just use your wife's/girlfriend's stuff? Or use your own? I go with my own bar soap but it switches quite often with shampoo. Bar soap is a face and body deal. No patience for separate and I've read up on how important taking care of your skin actually is, especially on shaving day. Don't skimp here. Shampoo....whatever she has is fine as long as it doesn't make you smell like a florist. Neutral or traditional smells are best. Don't fruit it up too much. You'll lose that battle every time when applying for your man-card.
Clothes....come on people. Look good but not better than your boss. Keep it simple, keep it classy. Don't overdo it, but don't underdo it either. You're looking for understated excellence. No trend setting at work. No skinny pants. Don't have your shirt unbuttoned past the second button. Be smart about it. And don't skimp on the shoes. You come in with some old Peaks like the ones you used to wear in grade school and you'll be sent home, or at least should be. Dress it up but not too much. You're not going to a wedding.
Boots can be worn in a professional setting as long as they're clean. Don't wear your hunting boots to work though. There are certain kinds that are acceptable. If people can hear your stomping around the office from 50 feet away you're wearing the wrong kind. If you're footprint in the boots is twice as wide and long as your actual foot you're wearing the wrong kind. Slim and sleek is best. Big and clumpy is worst. Too sleek and they're no longer boots......they're just shoes that stick up higher than regular shoes. Acceptable, obviously, but don't pretend that your $300 pair of Italian tall shoes pass for actual manly-man boots. If they say Red Wing or Caterpillar or Wolverine....boots. Gucci, Ralph Lauren, and Steve Madden....tall shoes.
Clothes....come on people. Look good but not better than your boss. Keep it simple, keep it classy. Don't overdo it, but don't underdo it either. You're looking for understated excellence. No trend setting at work. No skinny pants. Don't have your shirt unbuttoned past the second button. Be smart about it. And don't skimp on the shoes. You come in with some old Peaks like the ones you used to wear in grade school and you'll be sent home, or at least should be. Dress it up but not too much. You're not going to a wedding.
Boots can be worn in a professional setting as long as they're clean. Don't wear your hunting boots to work though. There are certain kinds that are acceptable. If people can hear your stomping around the office from 50 feet away you're wearing the wrong kind. If you're footprint in the boots is twice as wide and long as your actual foot you're wearing the wrong kind. Slim and sleek is best. Big and clumpy is worst. Too sleek and they're no longer boots......they're just shoes that stick up higher than regular shoes. Acceptable, obviously, but don't pretend that your $300 pair of Italian tall shoes pass for actual manly-man boots. If they say Red Wing or Caterpillar or Wolverine....boots. Gucci, Ralph Lauren, and Steve Madden....tall shoes.
Now you're showered up, smell like a human and not a zoo animal, hair is not all ratty and nasty, you've got business casual clothes taken care of, now you have to act the part. This is hard. It's hard to not get sucked into the vortex that is the internet. Tons of things out there to draw your attention away from your manliness. "Did you see what Kim Kardashian was wearing yesterday? Who pairs leopard with zebra?" Or "Holy shit that episode of Grey's Anatomy was good. Did you see the part where Meredith and Christina...."......no good. Pay attention to sports. Pay attention to politics. Pay attention to current events, even entertainment stuff, but don't get caught up with the paparazzi-type bullshit. No one wants a man to know which designer's dress Lindsay Lohan was wearing during fashion week. Don't do it. Know that she should be in jail but don't really get into the details about why (it's probably prostitution by the way). The details are for the women. If you do read about that shit don't tell anyone. Don't do that to yourself, your psyche, or your manliness, or lack thereof.
Good luck men. We're all counting on you. And don't let your offspring wear skinny jeans. Never okay, especially if you're trying to be a man.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Tat It Up
Summer 2002 was the first time I felt I really wanted/needed a tattoo. 9 years have gone by and I still don't have one/two/thirty. Hard to believe knowing my track record of adding to my obsessions and my ever growing ability to fall into the trap of impulse buys. I'm sure I'll get one....just not sure when.
Back in college I started watching shows like Miami Ink where they glorified the tattoo artist and the lifestyle that accompanied it. There was the bald guy, the Cuban, the little fat one, Jesse James' wife/ex-wife/whatever she is now. I was hooked. There was so much those guys could do with a needle. I needed one. I had to have one. Didn't get one.
Got my dad hooked on watching those shows with me. Got him to even talk about getting one with me. We were going to do it. It was going to happen. For a couple years he was into the idea. Now....nope.
I watched my buddy in college get two tattoos. Went with him to the shops. Saw the places. Watched the processes. Noticed how clean everything was. Saw the detail come to life on his leg and back. Wished I would have one myself. Nope. Pussed out. See the trend?
My cousin has a bunch, even some that he's had fixed and redone to make them better/different. He has offered to take me multiple times. Have I gone? No.
I don't watch the shows anymore. My dad's not into it anymore. No more friends getting them where I can tag along. My cousin doesn't have the money right now but I'm sure the next time he goes I'll turn him down again. And I can't put my finger on why. I really want one. For real. Seemingly always have. I just haven't found that perfect piece to kick it off. But it doesn't have to be perfect. I would be fine with just getting something after this many years. Just to get that itch to go away. What should I get? A dragon? A tiger eating a snake? The Mona Lisa? I don't know. But it's going to happen.....sooner or later.......at least that's my story and I'm stickin to it!
Back in college I started watching shows like Miami Ink where they glorified the tattoo artist and the lifestyle that accompanied it. There was the bald guy, the Cuban, the little fat one, Jesse James' wife/ex-wife/whatever she is now. I was hooked. There was so much those guys could do with a needle. I needed one. I had to have one. Didn't get one.
Got my dad hooked on watching those shows with me. Got him to even talk about getting one with me. We were going to do it. It was going to happen. For a couple years he was into the idea. Now....nope.
I watched my buddy in college get two tattoos. Went with him to the shops. Saw the places. Watched the processes. Noticed how clean everything was. Saw the detail come to life on his leg and back. Wished I would have one myself. Nope. Pussed out. See the trend?
My cousin has a bunch, even some that he's had fixed and redone to make them better/different. He has offered to take me multiple times. Have I gone? No.
I don't watch the shows anymore. My dad's not into it anymore. No more friends getting them where I can tag along. My cousin doesn't have the money right now but I'm sure the next time he goes I'll turn him down again. And I can't put my finger on why. I really want one. For real. Seemingly always have. I just haven't found that perfect piece to kick it off. But it doesn't have to be perfect. I would be fine with just getting something after this many years. Just to get that itch to go away. What should I get? A dragon? A tiger eating a snake? The Mona Lisa? I don't know. But it's going to happen.....sooner or later.......at least that's my story and I'm stickin to it!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Ooey Gooey Cheesy Goodness
Mmmmmm........pub cheese. There is quite possibly nothing better one can put on a burger. If there is I haven't tried it. And I've tried a lot. Believe me. A lot. Pub cheese wins. Hands down.
You know that feeling when you're about to go get a premium burger and you're wondering about which toppings you should go with? Mushrooms, or skip them? Peppers? Tomatoes (never)? Bacon (always)? American or Pub Cheese? No. Never. Never ever ask that question to your self. Just don't put yourself through it. If the place has pub cheese you're getting pub cheese. Seriously. There's no second guessing, no deliberation, no standing at the counter trying to figure out which cheese goes best with the other toppings you want. Pub cheese will not let you down.
Any place that has pub cheese, that spreadable, ooey gooey goodness of a food product, is going to be a good burger joint. Most likely there will be a decision to be made on which size burger to get. You'll see the 1/4 pound, the 1/3 pound and the 1/2 pound......go with the half pound and try to function 3 hours after you eat it. It's worth the effort. So good. So juicy. So you've got the hard part figured out. Next you order the pub cheese. Why? Cuz I said so, that's why. Come on! Then you pick whatever other toppings you want/don't need/won't care at all about. The pub cheese is the reason you got the burger. No one gets a burger because a place has the freshest tomatoes, or the crispiest lettuce, or the most unique onions. No. You go there for a good burger and the cheese to make you happy.
You've got your burger, cheese melted and spilling forth around the outside of the bun. You're trying to figure out how to maximize the experience. Cut it in half? Go at it full speed? What's going to keep the cheese intact the most? I cut. And the knife gets licked. And my fingers too. And the paper/plate/table/pants get licked as well. That cheese is going to do some damage on you. And it's good. You want that. The creamy goodness. You want that everywhere. You want to dip your fries in it. You want remnants left on your straw after you've taken a sip to cleanse the pallet for a new delicious bite. The more the merrier.
Trust me on this. You won't be sorry. Pub cheese on a burger. Delicioso!
You know that feeling when you're about to go get a premium burger and you're wondering about which toppings you should go with? Mushrooms, or skip them? Peppers? Tomatoes (never)? Bacon (always)? American or Pub Cheese? No. Never. Never ever ask that question to your self. Just don't put yourself through it. If the place has pub cheese you're getting pub cheese. Seriously. There's no second guessing, no deliberation, no standing at the counter trying to figure out which cheese goes best with the other toppings you want. Pub cheese will not let you down.
Any place that has pub cheese, that spreadable, ooey gooey goodness of a food product, is going to be a good burger joint. Most likely there will be a decision to be made on which size burger to get. You'll see the 1/4 pound, the 1/3 pound and the 1/2 pound......go with the half pound and try to function 3 hours after you eat it. It's worth the effort. So good. So juicy. So you've got the hard part figured out. Next you order the pub cheese. Why? Cuz I said so, that's why. Come on! Then you pick whatever other toppings you want/don't need/won't care at all about. The pub cheese is the reason you got the burger. No one gets a burger because a place has the freshest tomatoes, or the crispiest lettuce, or the most unique onions. No. You go there for a good burger and the cheese to make you happy.
You've got your burger, cheese melted and spilling forth around the outside of the bun. You're trying to figure out how to maximize the experience. Cut it in half? Go at it full speed? What's going to keep the cheese intact the most? I cut. And the knife gets licked. And my fingers too. And the paper/plate/table/pants get licked as well. That cheese is going to do some damage on you. And it's good. You want that. The creamy goodness. You want that everywhere. You want to dip your fries in it. You want remnants left on your straw after you've taken a sip to cleanse the pallet for a new delicious bite. The more the merrier.
Trust me on this. You won't be sorry. Pub cheese on a burger. Delicioso!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Greater Good
When is it okay to tell someone that they shouldn't be with their significant other? Ever? Should one just keep their mouth shut and hope for the best? Should one make snide comments on the side? Should one talk shit beyond that person's back loud enough for that person to hear and immediately start a fight about how it's not true even though it will nag and eat at that person for long enough that impact might actually be felt? It's hard to say. We won't know. Until now.
Every now and then you run across a couple people in a relationship who are sure to break up. There's no way it could/should/will ever last long enough to make a difference in each other's lives. But every so often you're wrong. Those people end up sticking it out. They end up getting engaged, get married, buy a house, get some pets, have some kids, etc. (not necessarily in that order by the way). There's no chance it will last though.....right? It has to end......right? What if it doesn't end? What if they stay together forever? What if your friend or relative or casual acquaintance never gets to be happy, at least happy as you know it to be?
You must say/do something.....for the greater good. The greater good is your only chance to make everything right. To intercede. To interrupt. To make better. Family members are tricky but you have more wiggle room. Friends....we'll get to them later. Casual acquaintances.....don't worry about it.....not worth the trouble. But with family members the line is easy to cross but it's usually okay. They ARE family after all. You have to take the risk in telling them that their significant other is putting a strain on the relationships he/she has with the other family members. You have to. You have to before it's too late, before you have to sit there and take it and piss and moan about until they finally get divorced or die (death can feel like the only escape after a while). If the family's functionality would be better if that significant other is out of the picture......do it for the greater good.
Friends.....so much tougher than family. You're risking a lot. But you're also risking a lot if you don't say anything. With family you're forced to be around people from time to time. But with friends you get to choose. When someone is with a dud and they cut you out because either your friend's significant other is dominating your friend, or because you've tried to intercede for the greater good, or whatever.....you're screwed. You better make it count. You better make it work. If you don't you lose your friend. If you do and lose your friend at least you tried and didn't sit back and still fuck it up. Don't take the chance on keeping the status quo and hoping for the best.
"At least he's happy." "As long as she's happy then we need to be happy for her." "Love is blind." All bullshit. Complete bullshit. If I was ever in one of these relationships, and maybe I have been (wink), I'd want the people I cared about to tell me I was messing around with something I shouldn't be. I'd want an intervention. And I'd want to hear it from a ton of people.....before it was too late. Sincerely. I wouldn't want my relationship to be bad for the greater good. I don't want to upset the balance of the universe, my universe, my family's universe. Everything should run smoothly. A well oiled machine. That's the greatest good. Rock the boat, tip it over, but make sure it's still in the harbor. Don't wait until it's 10 miles out to sea. By then the greater good will be lost and you'll be wishing for the good ole days.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Now Streaming...
I just read about this thing called the "Ewing Theory" that puts the idea out there that a superstar player isn't as important when he plays as when he sits. Patrick Ewing never won a Finals trophy with the Knicks and it can be argued that the best they ever played was without him because of a torn achilles tendon. It's a really cool thought. It probably happens a lot. A team will get totally psyched up and actually "overperform" with the star player on the sidelines. It happened a few times with Lebron James this past season. The Heat did fairly well with him on the bench in the finals only to blow it when he returned. It doesn't happen every time but there are definitely times when the Ewing Theory makes sense. I can see that happening in a lot of different things as well. Not just sports. Single parents accomplishing the seemingly impossible tasks of raising children on their own comes to mind. There's not a chance I could survive on my own as a single parent. My wife does so much that it would be impossible for me to replace her. I couldn't. I'm not even talking on the emotional level of ever trying to "replace" her. That's a totally different argument. And I'm not in the mood to argue right now. More in the mood to eat actually. Woke up starving, still starving. Not literally starving but metaphorically. I'm not going to die because I haven't eaten. On the contrary....I have enough reserves to last a couple weeks I'd say after the weekend I had, capped off by some delicious Mexican flavors from El Maguey. Love that place. Salsa = good. Cheese = good. Service = good. Never had a bad time there. At any location. That's hard to do for a restaurant chain. Very difficult indeed. There are many times one location is better than others. White Castle is notorious, in my opinion, for this. The one in downtown St. Louis is probably one of the more dangerous places in the nation but dammit can they sling a slider. So much better than a lot of the others in the St. Louis metropolitan area. Don't get out of your car though. Bad idea. You're not going to killed (most likely not going to anyway) but you might think you could. No one should feel safe in there. And if someone does I feel sorry for them. That's not a good way to live. Living oblivious to fear and danger. Yikes. That would suck. Life should be easier than that. You should like your life because it's nice, it's safe, etc. Not noticing you're in a shithole is okay, I guess, because you've accepted your way of life and made the best of it. But you shouldn't. It should just be better than that. Not easier, but better. Working for it is definitely part of the plan to being happy. But working too hard can be bad too. I'm definitely a fan of leisure. Leisure makes me happy. Doing nothing can be the best thing in the world. Might do a little of that right now actually.....
Friday, September 23, 2011
Daddy-Time Daycare
Was I bored? No.
Did I get a lot done? Yes.
Was it fun? For sure.
Would I do it all the time? Hell no.
My daughter was sick for a few days this week. The doctor didn't want her hanging around my pregnant wife too much or around any other kids. She might have had a virus and didn't want to risk getting anyone else sick. Time for Big Money to step up and take his turn at home.
My mom was a babysitter when I was really young and a teacher/director at a preschool as I grew up. There were other people around to watch my sister and I if my mom couldn't do it herself. My grandmas, aunts, uncles, etc. I cannot recall my dad taking off work to stay home with us. It just didn't happen. Too many other people were available. So the last few days were a little foreign to me. I took sick days but still had to work. When you depend on commission for your livelihood you sometimes have to take dramatic measures. 2 year old daughters make working from home very trying.....thank God for naps.
Having just recently gone through this/gotten to experience this wonderful gift, I got to thinking about stay-at-home parents. I always wanted to be a dad.....and to stay at home was seemingly the best thing ever. My buddy (Herbert T. Wattenagle) and I shared the same dream: Daddy-Time Daycare. It was a genius idea. Take the kids fishing, bowling, to the park, etc. Have a great time all day, everyday (all day, everyday). Never thought about what would happen if the kids were sick. Or if it was rainy outside. Or snow. What then. You have to be creative. But you also have to practical. Those weren't in the plans.
If I had to stay at home all the time I couldn't try to work as well. I'd have to give it my all for my kids' sake. There's no way I could split time. Too busy with both to make it work. Lil Penny would be a braindead TV watching fool by the time she was 3 and I'd be broke because I lost out on many things I didn't have time to work on. Separation between kid and work. There has to be it. Otherwise no work and all play make Money a weird boy.
Did I get a lot done? Yes.
Was it fun? For sure.
Would I do it all the time? Hell no.
My daughter was sick for a few days this week. The doctor didn't want her hanging around my pregnant wife too much or around any other kids. She might have had a virus and didn't want to risk getting anyone else sick. Time for Big Money to step up and take his turn at home.
My mom was a babysitter when I was really young and a teacher/director at a preschool as I grew up. There were other people around to watch my sister and I if my mom couldn't do it herself. My grandmas, aunts, uncles, etc. I cannot recall my dad taking off work to stay home with us. It just didn't happen. Too many other people were available. So the last few days were a little foreign to me. I took sick days but still had to work. When you depend on commission for your livelihood you sometimes have to take dramatic measures. 2 year old daughters make working from home very trying.....thank God for naps.
Having just recently gone through this/gotten to experience this wonderful gift, I got to thinking about stay-at-home parents. I always wanted to be a dad.....and to stay at home was seemingly the best thing ever. My buddy (Herbert T. Wattenagle) and I shared the same dream: Daddy-Time Daycare. It was a genius idea. Take the kids fishing, bowling, to the park, etc. Have a great time all day, everyday (all day, everyday). Never thought about what would happen if the kids were sick. Or if it was rainy outside. Or snow. What then. You have to be creative. But you also have to practical. Those weren't in the plans.
If I had to stay at home all the time I couldn't try to work as well. I'd have to give it my all for my kids' sake. There's no way I could split time. Too busy with both to make it work. Lil Penny would be a braindead TV watching fool by the time she was 3 and I'd be broke because I lost out on many things I didn't have time to work on. Separation between kid and work. There has to be it. Otherwise no work and all play make Money a weird boy.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Coming Soon
We hadn't been trying, but we weren't preventing. If it happened then so be it. We'd be happy if it happened but not stressed out if it didn't. I wasn't too sure how happy we'd be......I soon found out.
Stacy took a couple pregnancy tests early on. She took one in December, her first month after getting off birth control. We weren't expecting to get pregnant yet. Chances were minimal. Results were negative. Kinda bummed us out a little but not too bad. It could be worse. Getting pregnant isn't as easy as it seems. The stars have to align just so. And even then the percentages get smaller when you factor in about a thousand other things that can throw everything off. So one month of not really trying but not preventing (which everyone knows to mean that you're trying.....not fooling anyone) was no big deal. Chalk it up to a fun month!
But the next month was a little different. We had a feeling. Stacy couldn't wait to take a test. I was on my way to the Blues game with my buddies when I got the call. "Hey baby. What's up?" "Nothing." "You ok?" "Yep!" "No freaking way!!!!" "Yep!!!" That's pretty much how I heard I was going to be a dad. Awesome. Driving down highway 40 with my hair on fire. Tears streaming down my face. My foot slammed against the gas pedal which was now becoming a permanent fixture on the floor. Holy shit......we did it. It worked. Now....settle down. You have to play it cool for a while. You don't want to give it away. You don't want to overlook the game you were going to see with your buddies. Turn it off. You'll kiss her when you get home.....most likely drunk (yep).
From then on things started happening really fast. We told people a few weeks later. Started planning seriously for the baby to come. Painting, buying furniture, babyproofing the house, etc. Shit was getting weird. Stacy was getting big. And then all of a sudden it was time. Watching soccer downstairs with my Schmoop and it was cut short. Get to the hospital and sure as hell....we were having a baby. A few hours went by, a few more, and then after midnight Avery Kate was born. And the first thing she did.......dominated the nurse. She wouldn't cry. She was content to just lay there. Babies have to cry to get all that crap out of their throat/lungs. The nurse tried pinching her feet and hands. Nothing. She flicked her feet.....hard. Hard enough to make me want to punch the nurse. Not my Lil Penny though. She just stared right at the nurse and I swear she mouthed "Eff You!" I swear. I know it. Stared ahead. The nurse finally just had to freeze her out by making her cold. Still wanted to punch that freaking nurse.
Now my Lil Penny is 2 and she's going to be a big sister. How the hell are we going to deal with that?!?!? It's getting to be about time for potty training....not cool. Stacy has been sick as hell.....not cool. Avery is becoming more and more 2......not cool. But I get to paint again, buy furniture, and maintain the babyproofing. It's happening. And when I'm sitting there with my daughter, watching Bubble Guppies or some other terrible show she loves, and my wife tells me it's time.....oh man......it's going to be so much freaking fun!!!
Stacy took a couple pregnancy tests early on. She took one in December, her first month after getting off birth control. We weren't expecting to get pregnant yet. Chances were minimal. Results were negative. Kinda bummed us out a little but not too bad. It could be worse. Getting pregnant isn't as easy as it seems. The stars have to align just so. And even then the percentages get smaller when you factor in about a thousand other things that can throw everything off. So one month of not really trying but not preventing (which everyone knows to mean that you're trying.....not fooling anyone) was no big deal. Chalk it up to a fun month!
But the next month was a little different. We had a feeling. Stacy couldn't wait to take a test. I was on my way to the Blues game with my buddies when I got the call. "Hey baby. What's up?" "Nothing." "You ok?" "Yep!" "No freaking way!!!!" "Yep!!!" That's pretty much how I heard I was going to be a dad. Awesome. Driving down highway 40 with my hair on fire. Tears streaming down my face. My foot slammed against the gas pedal which was now becoming a permanent fixture on the floor. Holy shit......we did it. It worked. Now....settle down. You have to play it cool for a while. You don't want to give it away. You don't want to overlook the game you were going to see with your buddies. Turn it off. You'll kiss her when you get home.....most likely drunk (yep).
From then on things started happening really fast. We told people a few weeks later. Started planning seriously for the baby to come. Painting, buying furniture, babyproofing the house, etc. Shit was getting weird. Stacy was getting big. And then all of a sudden it was time. Watching soccer downstairs with my Schmoop and it was cut short. Get to the hospital and sure as hell....we were having a baby. A few hours went by, a few more, and then after midnight Avery Kate was born. And the first thing she did.......dominated the nurse. She wouldn't cry. She was content to just lay there. Babies have to cry to get all that crap out of their throat/lungs. The nurse tried pinching her feet and hands. Nothing. She flicked her feet.....hard. Hard enough to make me want to punch the nurse. Not my Lil Penny though. She just stared right at the nurse and I swear she mouthed "Eff You!" I swear. I know it. Stared ahead. The nurse finally just had to freeze her out by making her cold. Still wanted to punch that freaking nurse.
Now my Lil Penny is 2 and she's going to be a big sister. How the hell are we going to deal with that?!?!? It's getting to be about time for potty training....not cool. Stacy has been sick as hell.....not cool. Avery is becoming more and more 2......not cool. But I get to paint again, buy furniture, and maintain the babyproofing. It's happening. And when I'm sitting there with my daughter, watching Bubble Guppies or some other terrible show she loves, and my wife tells me it's time.....oh man......it's going to be so much freaking fun!!!
Country Giants
I've written before about songs and what they've meant to me, how they affected me, etc. I completely overlooked a whole genre, one in which I am very fond as well. As the barmaid in "The Blues Brothers" says, "Oh, we got both kinds. We got country AND western."
You can't help but like Kenny. The man is probably the most entertaining entertainer of the last 10 years. Mr. Chesney has his hits, hit big hits, and his mega hits. The man has made some great music. I have a little soft spot for "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy." Not his best work, but I love it. It IS country music....at least the way I like it for the most part. Fun, stupid, tells a story, talking about farm equipment: it has it all. I remember hearing it when I was younger. I was 16 and driving on my way to school. Rocked it out. Rocked it out the next time I heard it too. And every time I hear it now I rock it out again.
Martina McBride can flat out sing. No question about it. The chick has pipes that are almost unparalleled in all of MUSIC, let alone country music. I get goosebumps on probably half of her songs. The notes, the length, the clarity, the purity. I have nothing but appreciation for Martina. And her song "Independence Day" brings it home. She has some wiggles in her voice to drive it home on the back end of the song, just to make sure you're paying attention. Love that voice. Man. Goosebumps.
Brad Paisley is sneaking in there in my top country artists these days. He's got some really fun lyrics and full songs. "Alcohol," "Water," and "I'm Still A Guy"......all great. He's not afraid to have fun with his stuff. My favorite, and probably most influential (for many reasons) is "I'm Gonna Miss Her." Sometimes a man has to do what he wants. Sometimes a man has to make the tough call. Sometimes a man has to go fishing and worry about the consequences later. No worries out on the lake. I know I've taken those words as advice from time to time.....in past lives of course.
Reba.....a goddess to country music. She brought me up. My mom, sister and dad all loved her. There was no escaping her while I was growing up. She dominated. Turn it up and let her rip. She made us cry with "She Thinks His Name Was John." She got us jacked up and hating the stupid people of the South with "The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia." And she rocked our world with "Fancy." That was the song. That was the song that was played over and over and over. She killed it. Good story, good lyrics, great emotion, awesome voice.....nailed it. I can remember hearing it while standing in my living room just getting totally pumped, goosebumps jumping up and down my back, hair standing on my head. I wanted to be Fancy....only the guy version (not too sure).
And Garth. The man has more hits, money, alter-egos than he knows what to do with. Take your pick on practically any song and it meant something to me. The live albums with the biggest hits are the go-to Garth songs, but there are some lesser known songs that have stuck with me the most. He's kind of like Michael Jackson to me in that way, only not (and on the same level). You might know "Thunder Rolls," "Friends in Low Places," and maybe even "Standing Outside the Fire." He just didn't know how to screw up a song for a while back then. Everything was great. The one that still gives me chills, the one that still gives me that nostalgic feeling...."The Night I Called The Old Man Out." I never got into a fight with my dad and I think this song had something to do with it. The consequences, the fear, the respect. Gripping song. Love you dad.....don't hit me.
You can't help but like Kenny. The man is probably the most entertaining entertainer of the last 10 years. Mr. Chesney has his hits, hit big hits, and his mega hits. The man has made some great music. I have a little soft spot for "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy." Not his best work, but I love it. It IS country music....at least the way I like it for the most part. Fun, stupid, tells a story, talking about farm equipment: it has it all. I remember hearing it when I was younger. I was 16 and driving on my way to school. Rocked it out. Rocked it out the next time I heard it too. And every time I hear it now I rock it out again.
Martina McBride can flat out sing. No question about it. The chick has pipes that are almost unparalleled in all of MUSIC, let alone country music. I get goosebumps on probably half of her songs. The notes, the length, the clarity, the purity. I have nothing but appreciation for Martina. And her song "Independence Day" brings it home. She has some wiggles in her voice to drive it home on the back end of the song, just to make sure you're paying attention. Love that voice. Man. Goosebumps.
Brad Paisley is sneaking in there in my top country artists these days. He's got some really fun lyrics and full songs. "Alcohol," "Water," and "I'm Still A Guy"......all great. He's not afraid to have fun with his stuff. My favorite, and probably most influential (for many reasons) is "I'm Gonna Miss Her." Sometimes a man has to do what he wants. Sometimes a man has to make the tough call. Sometimes a man has to go fishing and worry about the consequences later. No worries out on the lake. I know I've taken those words as advice from time to time.....in past lives of course.
Reba.....a goddess to country music. She brought me up. My mom, sister and dad all loved her. There was no escaping her while I was growing up. She dominated. Turn it up and let her rip. She made us cry with "She Thinks His Name Was John." She got us jacked up and hating the stupid people of the South with "The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia." And she rocked our world with "Fancy." That was the song. That was the song that was played over and over and over. She killed it. Good story, good lyrics, great emotion, awesome voice.....nailed it. I can remember hearing it while standing in my living room just getting totally pumped, goosebumps jumping up and down my back, hair standing on my head. I wanted to be Fancy....only the guy version (not too sure).
And Garth. The man has more hits, money, alter-egos than he knows what to do with. Take your pick on practically any song and it meant something to me. The live albums with the biggest hits are the go-to Garth songs, but there are some lesser known songs that have stuck with me the most. He's kind of like Michael Jackson to me in that way, only not (and on the same level). You might know "Thunder Rolls," "Friends in Low Places," and maybe even "Standing Outside the Fire." He just didn't know how to screw up a song for a while back then. Everything was great. The one that still gives me chills, the one that still gives me that nostalgic feeling...."The Night I Called The Old Man Out." I never got into a fight with my dad and I think this song had something to do with it. The consequences, the fear, the respect. Gripping song. Love you dad.....don't hit me.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Lack of Posts
Sorry.......been a little caught up with traveling and such. Should have a couple for you guys to read by tomorrow afternoon.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
GOATs Abound
Privileged. Lucky. Fortuitous. We are. Everyone one of us under 30 years of age has grown up not just seeing great teams and great athletes; we've grown up seeing some of the greatest of all time (GOAT). In practically every sport we've at least caught a glimpse of the best ever. We are not worthy. We're spoiled. We've been spoiled our whole lives. Let's take a look, shall we:
Golf = Tiger was on track. He still might be the GOAT too. There's no denying his place in the upper echelons of the sport. He changed the sport in unimaginable ways. Jack might still edge him a little in titles, but by his pure sexual prowess I give Tiger the nod (impressive to say the least).
Swimming = Michael Phelps.....and he smokes weed. GOAT for sure. Mark Spitz ain't got shit on Phelpsy. Too many golds to count. Hands down GOAT.
100 meter dash = Usain Bolt is the fastest human EVER....and it's not even close. Every generation has a man who is the fastest ever, but this one hasn't even peaked yet. They say he's the perfect runner. I say he's got a step or two on Flash (not the comic book hero).....which is saying a lot.
Soccer = We got to see Maradona late, we got to see Cristiano for a while, and now we get to see Messi. Little Lionel is on his way. He could be the most dynamic player ever. I don't buy into the argument that arbitrarily says a guy has to shine at the World Cup. The game is bigger than those few weeks every 4 years. Messi can be the greatest and never make it to the semis in the World Cup just as easily as someone can win 4 World Cups and never be in the conversation.
Basketball = MJ....enough said.
Baseball = Albert? I don't know. Not yet....but he's getting there.....he's getting there. The Babe should always be the best. That roided freak Bonds was sure amazing. Too bad no one liked him. He made himself hated not just for cheating but being a complete asshole. Shame. Still.....he might have been the GOAT. Maybe.
NASCAR = Jimmy Johnson is doing things no one else has done. GOAT. Has to be. Not a pioneer like Petty or Earnhardt or even Gordon. Just the GOAT. Calling it.
Football = Missed out on Jim Brown. Saw Barry Sanders....didn't last long enough. Could it be Peyton or Brady? Or Favre? Or Montana? Or Elway? Or Marino? We saw em all. One of them has to be the GOAT. It's probably a guy named Rice in all actuality. But take your pick.
Tennis = I'm going to say Roger Federer. He's got the titles to back it up, the streaks, the intangibles. Pete Sampras was so 2 grand slams ago. In the next few years we might be calling Rafa Nadal and/or Nole Djokovic the GOAT. Either way....great stuff happening these last 10 years in tennis.
NHL = The Great One. Saw him. Saw Lemieux but not enough. Didn't get to see Orr....but let's just put this one to bed. It's Wayne's world.
But alas.....we haven't seen them all. Didn't see any real tremendous boxers in their prime while we were old enough to watch (Mike Tyson's Punch Out alone makes that the most difficult thing I've ever had to write). And worst of all.....Horse Racing. Depression sets in. No Triple Crowns since 1978. GOAT was Secretariat. Thought we were going to have something special in Big Brown......god dammit Desormeaux. There's no way he was tired at the quarter pole. NO FUCKING WAY. You gotta be kidding me. Come on! Let him run. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. Wouldn't have been the GOAT.....but could've been the greatest of the last 35 years at least. DAMMIT!
Cherish these times people. Cherish them. You're watching the all time bests out there. Now.....I've got to call my therapist. Desormeaux does that to a man. Dammit.
Golf = Tiger was on track. He still might be the GOAT too. There's no denying his place in the upper echelons of the sport. He changed the sport in unimaginable ways. Jack might still edge him a little in titles, but by his pure sexual prowess I give Tiger the nod (impressive to say the least).
Swimming = Michael Phelps.....and he smokes weed. GOAT for sure. Mark Spitz ain't got shit on Phelpsy. Too many golds to count. Hands down GOAT.
100 meter dash = Usain Bolt is the fastest human EVER....and it's not even close. Every generation has a man who is the fastest ever, but this one hasn't even peaked yet. They say he's the perfect runner. I say he's got a step or two on Flash (not the comic book hero).....which is saying a lot.
Soccer = We got to see Maradona late, we got to see Cristiano for a while, and now we get to see Messi. Little Lionel is on his way. He could be the most dynamic player ever. I don't buy into the argument that arbitrarily says a guy has to shine at the World Cup. The game is bigger than those few weeks every 4 years. Messi can be the greatest and never make it to the semis in the World Cup just as easily as someone can win 4 World Cups and never be in the conversation.
Basketball = MJ....enough said.
Baseball = Albert? I don't know. Not yet....but he's getting there.....he's getting there. The Babe should always be the best. That roided freak Bonds was sure amazing. Too bad no one liked him. He made himself hated not just for cheating but being a complete asshole. Shame. Still.....he might have been the GOAT. Maybe.
NASCAR = Jimmy Johnson is doing things no one else has done. GOAT. Has to be. Not a pioneer like Petty or Earnhardt or even Gordon. Just the GOAT. Calling it.
Football = Missed out on Jim Brown. Saw Barry Sanders....didn't last long enough. Could it be Peyton or Brady? Or Favre? Or Montana? Or Elway? Or Marino? We saw em all. One of them has to be the GOAT. It's probably a guy named Rice in all actuality. But take your pick.
Tennis = I'm going to say Roger Federer. He's got the titles to back it up, the streaks, the intangibles. Pete Sampras was so 2 grand slams ago. In the next few years we might be calling Rafa Nadal and/or Nole Djokovic the GOAT. Either way....great stuff happening these last 10 years in tennis.
NHL = The Great One. Saw him. Saw Lemieux but not enough. Didn't get to see Orr....but let's just put this one to bed. It's Wayne's world.
But alas.....we haven't seen them all. Didn't see any real tremendous boxers in their prime while we were old enough to watch (Mike Tyson's Punch Out alone makes that the most difficult thing I've ever had to write). And worst of all.....Horse Racing. Depression sets in. No Triple Crowns since 1978. GOAT was Secretariat. Thought we were going to have something special in Big Brown......god dammit Desormeaux. There's no way he was tired at the quarter pole. NO FUCKING WAY. You gotta be kidding me. Come on! Let him run. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. Wouldn't have been the GOAT.....but could've been the greatest of the last 35 years at least. DAMMIT!
Cherish these times people. Cherish them. You're watching the all time bests out there. Now.....I've got to call my therapist. Desormeaux does that to a man. Dammit.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
God Save the Queen
If you ever get some time, like literally 2 seconds, google "Freddie Mercury motivational" images. Funny stuff out there. The man has an eclectic following/hatership like none other. Among the asinine are the true fans' works that are still pissed he died....and it's been approximately 10-40 years (look it up.....gaww) since he died.
Jim Morrison has the weeping 16 year olds at his grave everyday who have no clue what he was all about, what he truly meant to his time and place, or even the cultural impact he ACTUALLY had. Some of that can be attributed to the utterly awesome/awful movie in which Iceman takes his shirt off and does drugs for a couple hours. Most just think his message was just so awesome (man). Stupid. If you lived through it that's fine. Weep. But if he was dead 15 years before you were even born.....find something else to do. You probably don't speak Greek anyway (the grave really isn't that cool). But Freddie's fans are different. They weep in a good way. You can make fun of them because they can make fun of themselves. They make fun because it's easy, it's fun, and he's even more awesome because/despite it!
"Freddie Mercury: Gayer than a bag of dicks." "Freddie Mercury: Even his shadow was FABULOUS." "AIDS: Enjoy it while you can." Sure some cross the line. They're homophobic. But don't tell me they're not freaking awesome. The man, the myth, the mustache.
For those of you who don't know who Freddie Mercury is....shame on you. He was the leader/lead singer of the rock band Queen. Never saw it coming that he was gay huh? Queen is one of the greatest rock bands of all time. That is not a statement of opinion by the way. Just a fact. They ruled (get it....queen joke). And it was Freddie who fueled that awesomeness. He was epic. Not out about his homosexuality until it got closer to his death. Everyone had to know it. The man wore some crazy shit (google that too....wow).
I once saw a rock n roll/pop rock hierarchy. It went something like this:
Jester = Lady Gaga
Princess = Elton John (I put Michael Jackson here...but whatever)
Prince = Prince
Queen = Whitney Houston
King = Elvis
God = Freddie Mercury!
When American Idol first started a bunch of years ago my friend, Schmoop, and I came up with a great idea. We thought about the huge rock n roll singers of the last 50 years. Which one of them would legitimately win American Idol? Not a chance guys like Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, or even Eric Clapton would make the cut. The upper echelon got whittled away until we thought of Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin. The man could wail! His voice shattered albums. His range was unique. Great stuff. And we sat there for a couple minutes believing there was none better......and then Schmoop said, "Holy Shit! Totally forgot." I asked who that could be. "Freddie Fucking Mercury!!!" Again silence. It was over. Nothing more needed to be said. "I am Freddie Mercury: Your argument is invalid."
Jim Morrison has the weeping 16 year olds at his grave everyday who have no clue what he was all about, what he truly meant to his time and place, or even the cultural impact he ACTUALLY had. Some of that can be attributed to the utterly awesome/awful movie in which Iceman takes his shirt off and does drugs for a couple hours. Most just think his message was just so awesome (man). Stupid. If you lived through it that's fine. Weep. But if he was dead 15 years before you were even born.....find something else to do. You probably don't speak Greek anyway (the grave really isn't that cool). But Freddie's fans are different. They weep in a good way. You can make fun of them because they can make fun of themselves. They make fun because it's easy, it's fun, and he's even more awesome because/despite it!
"Freddie Mercury: Gayer than a bag of dicks." "Freddie Mercury: Even his shadow was FABULOUS." "AIDS: Enjoy it while you can." Sure some cross the line. They're homophobic. But don't tell me they're not freaking awesome. The man, the myth, the mustache.
For those of you who don't know who Freddie Mercury is....shame on you. He was the leader/lead singer of the rock band Queen. Never saw it coming that he was gay huh? Queen is one of the greatest rock bands of all time. That is not a statement of opinion by the way. Just a fact. They ruled (get it....queen joke). And it was Freddie who fueled that awesomeness. He was epic. Not out about his homosexuality until it got closer to his death. Everyone had to know it. The man wore some crazy shit (google that too....wow).
I once saw a rock n roll/pop rock hierarchy. It went something like this:
Jester = Lady Gaga
Princess = Elton John (I put Michael Jackson here...but whatever)
Prince = Prince
Queen = Whitney Houston
King = Elvis
God = Freddie Mercury!
When American Idol first started a bunch of years ago my friend, Schmoop, and I came up with a great idea. We thought about the huge rock n roll singers of the last 50 years. Which one of them would legitimately win American Idol? Not a chance guys like Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, or even Eric Clapton would make the cut. The upper echelon got whittled away until we thought of Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin. The man could wail! His voice shattered albums. His range was unique. Great stuff. And we sat there for a couple minutes believing there was none better......and then Schmoop said, "Holy Shit! Totally forgot." I asked who that could be. "Freddie Fucking Mercury!!!" Again silence. It was over. Nothing more needed to be said. "I am Freddie Mercury: Your argument is invalid."
Monday, September 12, 2011
It's All My Fault
Is it rational to think that a television viewer has any effect on an athlete's or team's performance? Does it make sense to alter one's way of life based on the last play to make sure the next one goes well....while sitting in your living room? No......but that doesn't mean I, the viewer, can't affect the game. I'm certain I can. It makes no sense, but shut up....I can.
This past weekend I watched some of my favorite teams and athletes lose....almost all of them. Mizzou football, Notre Dame football, Liverpool, Roger Federer, St. Louis Rams. All toast. My fault. I didn't stay up to watch the end of the Mizzou game. My bad. Notre Dame....turned it off before the final collapse. Shit. I turned the Liverpool game on too late. God dammit. I got cocky during the Federer/Djokovic match. Heartbreak. And to top it off I only watched a few minutes of the Rams game because of my daughter's birthday party. Depression sets in.
Treat this post as an apology to all of the other fans out there of the teams/athletes I mentioned. I take full responsibility. It's my fault. If I would have been better for them they would have been better for me. But since I suck, they sucked. Shit shit shit. I'm the worst. Gotta be better if you expect results. I have to want it more. I have to pay attention. I have to give it my all. It's time to be a champion. From now on if any of the above teams/athletes fail to win in their respective sports come to me first. Guarantee it's because I was slacking somehow. I messed up. I know it. It's my fault.
But what will I do to get better? What can I do? Should I find a particular spot in my chair to sit and watch everything important to me? What if I'm out of town? What if I'm "too busy" to watch? It's going to be a battle. My thoughts are going to have to be there no matter what. That can't be the best I can do though, can it? Should I be paying attention at all times on my phone so I never miss a thing and totally neglect my family, friends, personal hygiene? I'll do it if it means championships for my favorites. I think I will. If I don't I can only blame myself. Seems like that is just going to be my plight. It's going to be my fault....I just know it.
This past weekend I watched some of my favorite teams and athletes lose....almost all of them. Mizzou football, Notre Dame football, Liverpool, Roger Federer, St. Louis Rams. All toast. My fault. I didn't stay up to watch the end of the Mizzou game. My bad. Notre Dame....turned it off before the final collapse. Shit. I turned the Liverpool game on too late. God dammit. I got cocky during the Federer/Djokovic match. Heartbreak. And to top it off I only watched a few minutes of the Rams game because of my daughter's birthday party. Depression sets in.
Treat this post as an apology to all of the other fans out there of the teams/athletes I mentioned. I take full responsibility. It's my fault. If I would have been better for them they would have been better for me. But since I suck, they sucked. Shit shit shit. I'm the worst. Gotta be better if you expect results. I have to want it more. I have to pay attention. I have to give it my all. It's time to be a champion. From now on if any of the above teams/athletes fail to win in their respective sports come to me first. Guarantee it's because I was slacking somehow. I messed up. I know it. It's my fault.
But what will I do to get better? What can I do? Should I find a particular spot in my chair to sit and watch everything important to me? What if I'm out of town? What if I'm "too busy" to watch? It's going to be a battle. My thoughts are going to have to be there no matter what. That can't be the best I can do though, can it? Should I be paying attention at all times on my phone so I never miss a thing and totally neglect my family, friends, personal hygiene? I'll do it if it means championships for my favorites. I think I will. If I don't I can only blame myself. Seems like that is just going to be my plight. It's going to be my fault....I just know it.
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Mighty Fed 2
A while ago I wrote about Roger Federer needing to bulk up and get stronger and change the way he plays a bit in order to break through at the US Open. Well.....he didn't......and he's still in the semifinals. Last night, Sept 8th, I watched him dismantle Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in straight sets. The same guy who beat Federer in 5 sets after losing the first two sets at Wimbledon, Fed's favorite tournament, just a couple months ago. It was clinical. It was classy. It was Federer being the best that has ever lived.
Fed changed up some tactics this time around. He took the ball early. He forced Tsonga to twelve feet behind the baseline regularly. He served big and volleyed fairly well. The bigger Tsonga couldn't hang last night. He gave Roger too much time. Tsonga was faulting too many times on his first serve. When Federer got the chance to put away the second serves he went at them. Forehand, forehand, forehand. Not the strongest ever, or even on the tour now, but the timing was impeccable. He took the ball early. He attacked. He played aggressive.
At one point in the match I looked at my wife and said after one of the longer rallies where Fed dictated the whole point, "I've never seen him look this good." I probably have, but it's been a little while now. He hasn't been the aggressor that often these days. He used to make it easy on himself by going for big shots all the time. Those days seemed to be gone. He was content to hang out at the baseline and trade punches with the younger, stronger players. He played on his pedigree alone, seemingly. I guess if you have the shot-making ability he has you would too. It's a sight to see. And he knows it. And he knows he can still make shots. And I think last night he showed the world that he can still crank it up when he needs to.
Tsonga is a beast. Big boy. Strong. Tall. Quick as snot. Pretty much the prototypical body styling for a tennis player. He hasn't put it all together yet but he's still young. He might. The technique falls apart sometimes and he gets into trouble when his athleticism and strength let him down. Last night Federer broke him. He crumbled him. The Frenchman just couldn't hang. Roger had his share of unforced errors but that is a good sign for him. He's going for shots. He's forcing the issue. He made Tsonga his bitch.
Maybe he's not bigger, faster, stronger than everyone else. Maybe he doesn't need to be. I still think putting some weight on and going after points Pete Sampras-style would be good for keeping him healthy and playing longer, but I guess that's why Roger gets paid the big bucks. He's been criticized in the past for not adapting his game enough. I guess he feels he doesn't have to. I guess he feels the track record speaks for itself. He's won everything imaginable. He has the streaks that are unparalleled. But he hasn't won a grand slam in a while. And he's getting older. And the kids have caught him. Seeing 3 in front of Federer's name at a tournament just seems wrong. Maybe 3 will work out though. Or maybe Djokovic will have enough to beat him in the semis. If he loses will someone please tell Roger to bulk up and start bullying around the court a little more? It would really be great. Thanks.
Fed changed up some tactics this time around. He took the ball early. He forced Tsonga to twelve feet behind the baseline regularly. He served big and volleyed fairly well. The bigger Tsonga couldn't hang last night. He gave Roger too much time. Tsonga was faulting too many times on his first serve. When Federer got the chance to put away the second serves he went at them. Forehand, forehand, forehand. Not the strongest ever, or even on the tour now, but the timing was impeccable. He took the ball early. He attacked. He played aggressive.
At one point in the match I looked at my wife and said after one of the longer rallies where Fed dictated the whole point, "I've never seen him look this good." I probably have, but it's been a little while now. He hasn't been the aggressor that often these days. He used to make it easy on himself by going for big shots all the time. Those days seemed to be gone. He was content to hang out at the baseline and trade punches with the younger, stronger players. He played on his pedigree alone, seemingly. I guess if you have the shot-making ability he has you would too. It's a sight to see. And he knows it. And he knows he can still make shots. And I think last night he showed the world that he can still crank it up when he needs to.
Tsonga is a beast. Big boy. Strong. Tall. Quick as snot. Pretty much the prototypical body styling for a tennis player. He hasn't put it all together yet but he's still young. He might. The technique falls apart sometimes and he gets into trouble when his athleticism and strength let him down. Last night Federer broke him. He crumbled him. The Frenchman just couldn't hang. Roger had his share of unforced errors but that is a good sign for him. He's going for shots. He's forcing the issue. He made Tsonga his bitch.
Maybe he's not bigger, faster, stronger than everyone else. Maybe he doesn't need to be. I still think putting some weight on and going after points Pete Sampras-style would be good for keeping him healthy and playing longer, but I guess that's why Roger gets paid the big bucks. He's been criticized in the past for not adapting his game enough. I guess he feels he doesn't have to. I guess he feels the track record speaks for itself. He's won everything imaginable. He has the streaks that are unparalleled. But he hasn't won a grand slam in a while. And he's getting older. And the kids have caught him. Seeing 3 in front of Federer's name at a tournament just seems wrong. Maybe 3 will work out though. Or maybe Djokovic will have enough to beat him in the semis. If he loses will someone please tell Roger to bulk up and start bullying around the court a little more? It would really be great. Thanks.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Hands Down The Best Ever
Try to think of the best pizza you've ever eaten. For some of you it might be easy. It's right there. On the tip of your tongue. It was so good it had to be the best you've ever eaten. For the rest of you it might be tough. Maybe one time something was so great but the next time fell flat, thus tainting the overall experience of that place. Maybe there are just so many things that you like about different pizzas and places it's hard to narrow down. For those of you who can't decide....I pity you. You've never had Pirrone's.
Now I know what you're going to say: there's no way anyone can say that one place is better than any of the others; it's too subjective; what gives you the right to decide....fine. But Pirrone's is the best pizza anyway. Those of you who disagree are just wrong. Deal with it.
The original Pirrone's, or at least the one I think is the original, is off Washington Street in Florissant, MO. Pretty close to the best bowling alley ever....Dick Weber Lanes (this is definitely not debatable). My experience with Pirrone's is vast. I've had it cold, reheated, fresh, burnt, under-cooked, weird toppings, the regulars, in a buffet, takeout, eat in.....pretty much every way I can think of. I've had it at least once a year for every year of my life after 1st grade, including the years while I was away for college.
Growing up my parents never got it. It was just too damn expensive (and still is). BJ's, Elicia's, and Domino's ruled the household. Those never disappointed but they never transported me to another dimension like Pirrone's did. In grade school my only experience was through Ryan Moore. He'd get it at least 3 times a month with his family and they'd always have leftovers. Those leftovers would make their way into his lunch the following day where they would be put on the trading block. Who had the goods to win the greatest pizza ever? I was always stocked with chocolate donuts, fruit snacks of all kinds, Doritos even.....whatever it took to get that pizza. Sometimes I didn't have the right stuff though. Sad days. Had to wait it out to see if anyone put it "up for grabs" at the end of lunch because they were too full. I was never too full.
As I got older I started seeking it out on my own. The price is worth it if you can afford it. That thin crust, crunchy yet chewy. The sweet and a little spicy sauce, never too much, never too little. The most perfect pieces of pepperoni this mouth has ever tasted. The cheese......oh my God the cheese! A pepperoni pizza from Pirrone's is the best pizza ever. No contest. It hits on many levels, not just tasting amazing. The memories, the future, the present. Your whole life explodes with each bite. You think of the glory days of your youth. How good it tastes in the moment. And for God's sake don't ever close and deprive the world of your tasty goodness. I salute you Pirrone's. You've done it. You've made me a believer since day one and there's nothing anyone can say or do to change my mind. I'm always up for the challenge though.....
Now I know what you're going to say: there's no way anyone can say that one place is better than any of the others; it's too subjective; what gives you the right to decide....fine. But Pirrone's is the best pizza anyway. Those of you who disagree are just wrong. Deal with it.
The original Pirrone's, or at least the one I think is the original, is off Washington Street in Florissant, MO. Pretty close to the best bowling alley ever....Dick Weber Lanes (this is definitely not debatable). My experience with Pirrone's is vast. I've had it cold, reheated, fresh, burnt, under-cooked, weird toppings, the regulars, in a buffet, takeout, eat in.....pretty much every way I can think of. I've had it at least once a year for every year of my life after 1st grade, including the years while I was away for college.
Growing up my parents never got it. It was just too damn expensive (and still is). BJ's, Elicia's, and Domino's ruled the household. Those never disappointed but they never transported me to another dimension like Pirrone's did. In grade school my only experience was through Ryan Moore. He'd get it at least 3 times a month with his family and they'd always have leftovers. Those leftovers would make their way into his lunch the following day where they would be put on the trading block. Who had the goods to win the greatest pizza ever? I was always stocked with chocolate donuts, fruit snacks of all kinds, Doritos even.....whatever it took to get that pizza. Sometimes I didn't have the right stuff though. Sad days. Had to wait it out to see if anyone put it "up for grabs" at the end of lunch because they were too full. I was never too full.
As I got older I started seeking it out on my own. The price is worth it if you can afford it. That thin crust, crunchy yet chewy. The sweet and a little spicy sauce, never too much, never too little. The most perfect pieces of pepperoni this mouth has ever tasted. The cheese......oh my God the cheese! A pepperoni pizza from Pirrone's is the best pizza ever. No contest. It hits on many levels, not just tasting amazing. The memories, the future, the present. Your whole life explodes with each bite. You think of the glory days of your youth. How good it tastes in the moment. And for God's sake don't ever close and deprive the world of your tasty goodness. I salute you Pirrone's. You've done it. You've made me a believer since day one and there's nothing anyone can say or do to change my mind. I'm always up for the challenge though.....
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
No More Jeans Shorts
In the movie "Wedding Crashers" Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson get to have a lot of fun. They bang smoking hot chicks, eat tons of good food, drink like fish, and have cool alter-egos all without having any consequences until the end. Was it all worth it to have to wear madras pants and a V-neck sweaters while playing a touch football game? I'm not so sure.
Never, NEVER, is it okay to dress like that when you play sports. Never. It's not even okay to wear that type of clothes when you go for walks. You have to dress the part. If you're going for a walk go with gym shorts and Tshirt, or sweatpants and a sweatshirt in the winter time. You must not wear jeans shorts. Ever. Unacceptable. But people do it. They do it because they don't know any better. They do it because they don't care. They do it because they may not have athletic style shorts. Stop it! Know better, care, and dress the part.
When you are away from your house your clothes should reflect your activity for the day. If you're wearing scrubby clothes with paint on them you're working on something around your house and needed supplies. You don't wear busted ass jeans, a sleeveless shirt and flip flops to Applebee's. Don't do it! Dress the part. Don't overdo it though and go with the suit and tie. That's just plain retarded.
Dress the part at your house too. Be comfortable. If there's nothing going on, dress like it. Old people don't adhere to this way of living at all. Maybe they think at a moment's notice there's a good chance that the pair of Dickie's pant, faded collared shirt, and busted up dress shoes are going to come in handy. And maybe that's true. Maybe the wisdom they've collected over the years is paying off and I just don't know it. Maybe they DO have to leave at a moment's notice and give up watching the John Wayne marathon that they've been watching for the last three days. Maybe. I guess I won't know until I'm their age. But believe me when I tell you this: when I'm 88 years old and it's a Tuesday morning and I've just woken up from my Monday night football drink-myself-stupid-fest at 11:30 AM I'll be wearing a Tshirt and, hopefully, some underwear until I'm told to change into something more respectable......at which point I'll immediately walk out to my front porch and sit on my swing until it's time to eat. I've earned it. I'm dressing the part. Join me.
Never, NEVER, is it okay to dress like that when you play sports. Never. It's not even okay to wear that type of clothes when you go for walks. You have to dress the part. If you're going for a walk go with gym shorts and Tshirt, or sweatpants and a sweatshirt in the winter time. You must not wear jeans shorts. Ever. Unacceptable. But people do it. They do it because they don't know any better. They do it because they don't care. They do it because they may not have athletic style shorts. Stop it! Know better, care, and dress the part.
When you are away from your house your clothes should reflect your activity for the day. If you're wearing scrubby clothes with paint on them you're working on something around your house and needed supplies. You don't wear busted ass jeans, a sleeveless shirt and flip flops to Applebee's. Don't do it! Dress the part. Don't overdo it though and go with the suit and tie. That's just plain retarded.
Dress the part at your house too. Be comfortable. If there's nothing going on, dress like it. Old people don't adhere to this way of living at all. Maybe they think at a moment's notice there's a good chance that the pair of Dickie's pant, faded collared shirt, and busted up dress shoes are going to come in handy. And maybe that's true. Maybe the wisdom they've collected over the years is paying off and I just don't know it. Maybe they DO have to leave at a moment's notice and give up watching the John Wayne marathon that they've been watching for the last three days. Maybe. I guess I won't know until I'm their age. But believe me when I tell you this: when I'm 88 years old and it's a Tuesday morning and I've just woken up from my Monday night football drink-myself-stupid-fest at 11:30 AM I'll be wearing a Tshirt and, hopefully, some underwear until I'm told to change into something more respectable......at which point I'll immediately walk out to my front porch and sit on my swing until it's time to eat. I've earned it. I'm dressing the part. Join me.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Listen Boys....
Billy Joel had it right when he sang about keeping a woman happy. "Tell Her About It", even with the cheesy video, is a great refresher for any man in a relationship or looking for a relationship. The guy who was married to Christie Brinkley for an obscene amount of time knew what he was talking about. He looks like Paul Giamatti with a piano necktie and he was married to one of the hottest women of the last 50 years (arguably). Listen to him. He knows some good shit.
You have to talk to your girlfriend/wife/lover/mistress/obsession. Talk to her about everything you can. And better yet....let her talk to you. Communication is key. And be honest with that communication. Tell her you miss her AND MEAN IT. Tell her you love her AND MEAN IT. Tell her you need her AND MEAN IT. She probably knows it but hearing it is so much more rewarding than just guessing at it.
There are days when missing someone is obviously not on your mind. Long day at work, you're stressed out, you're hungover, you didn't sleep well. There are thousands of things that can get in the way of you thinking about that special woman in your life. Make it a priority to think about her though. When you think about her you'll miss her. It will just happen. You'll catch of whiff of the same smell as her shampoo. Or you'll hear something silly in conversation and automatically think of a story when something similar happened with the two of you. It will happen. You will miss her. And that's good. Now just tell her. Tell her you miss her even if you've just left her. But mean it. Don't tell her you miss her when she's driving away and you call her on her cell phone. Too soon. Too much. Too fake. But a couple hours go by and you think about dinner, and seeing her standing in the kitchen with some short shorts on, and her is swept up in a messy ball on top of her head, and she's gorgeous. Tell her you're thinking about her, you're missing her. And tell her you love her.
You can't tell her enough that you love her. Well you can if you're stalking her and she's got a couple restraining orders on you. But if you're in a relationship and you've both expressed your love say it over and over again. It's nice. It feels good. If she giggles at a stupid joke on tv....tell her. If she teaches your baby a new word....tell her. If she thought of you when she was out with her friends and brought you home a quesadilla.....tell her. It's nice. It feels good. You'll love her even more after you've told her too. It happens. It just happens.
Now, this last one is tricky. Need. Who needs someone else? Small children need a lot of help. Old people need a lot of help. Everyone in between is a little different. Having your independence makes it difficult to even think about actually needing someone. You are you without anyone else. That's a good thing. You want that. You need someone else to make you better though. You need someone else to make you happy. You need someone else to love you back. When that happens you're a happy guy. And it's great when else needs you. It's awesome. You're a better person, you're a better man, because someone you love needs you and you need her.
Love is not easy. It takes effort. But just a simple thought every now and then can make a world of difference. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to tell my wife I miss her, I love her, and I need her. I think that's a good idea. And that just happened.
You have to talk to your girlfriend/wife/lover/mistress/obsession. Talk to her about everything you can. And better yet....let her talk to you. Communication is key. And be honest with that communication. Tell her you miss her AND MEAN IT. Tell her you love her AND MEAN IT. Tell her you need her AND MEAN IT. She probably knows it but hearing it is so much more rewarding than just guessing at it.
There are days when missing someone is obviously not on your mind. Long day at work, you're stressed out, you're hungover, you didn't sleep well. There are thousands of things that can get in the way of you thinking about that special woman in your life. Make it a priority to think about her though. When you think about her you'll miss her. It will just happen. You'll catch of whiff of the same smell as her shampoo. Or you'll hear something silly in conversation and automatically think of a story when something similar happened with the two of you. It will happen. You will miss her. And that's good. Now just tell her. Tell her you miss her even if you've just left her. But mean it. Don't tell her you miss her when she's driving away and you call her on her cell phone. Too soon. Too much. Too fake. But a couple hours go by and you think about dinner, and seeing her standing in the kitchen with some short shorts on, and her is swept up in a messy ball on top of her head, and she's gorgeous. Tell her you're thinking about her, you're missing her. And tell her you love her.
You can't tell her enough that you love her. Well you can if you're stalking her and she's got a couple restraining orders on you. But if you're in a relationship and you've both expressed your love say it over and over again. It's nice. It feels good. If she giggles at a stupid joke on tv....tell her. If she teaches your baby a new word....tell her. If she thought of you when she was out with her friends and brought you home a quesadilla.....tell her. It's nice. It feels good. You'll love her even more after you've told her too. It happens. It just happens.
Now, this last one is tricky. Need. Who needs someone else? Small children need a lot of help. Old people need a lot of help. Everyone in between is a little different. Having your independence makes it difficult to even think about actually needing someone. You are you without anyone else. That's a good thing. You want that. You need someone else to make you better though. You need someone else to make you happy. You need someone else to love you back. When that happens you're a happy guy. And it's great when else needs you. It's awesome. You're a better person, you're a better man, because someone you love needs you and you need her.
Love is not easy. It takes effort. But just a simple thought every now and then can make a world of difference. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to tell my wife I miss her, I love her, and I need her. I think that's a good idea. And that just happened.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Applied Physics II
Once upon a time, long ago, I wrote a breakdown of my golf swing and throw in (article here). Here's another attempt at making sense of a couple other things....
Swing Batter
I grab whichever bat I think might give me my best shot at not just making contact but actually getting a hit. Some people like the end loaded, some the semi-ended loaded....I go with the balanced bat. The balanced bat gives me no extra pop for my swing path. It only gives me the ability for my shitty swing path to have any success rate. So I have my bat and I step up to the plate. There is a man on first and one on second, one out, bottom of the third inning, score is tied at 4. This is not a crucial at-bat by any means. A lot of ball yet to be played. But I can't go 0 for 2 to start the game. I have to earn being #2 in the order. Hands are sweating, I'm still feeling like I might yak because I tracked a ball in the outfield no more than 8 MINUTES AGO (I'm so freaking out of shape it makes me sick), and the 5 beers and half a large pizza I downed before the game are playing games with my stomach and esophagus. Concentrate. Whatever you do don't swing and miss. I dig my back foot in. I'm not comfortable stepping in the canyon someone else dug into the ground so I've set up right in front of it. Whatever you do don't step back in that hole and fall down. I angle my foot toward the pitcher. I feel it gives me better ability to drive to the ball and not fall away from it. My feet are now set. Now.....let's take a look at the rest of the stance. Hunched over? Nah....I'm pretty straight up and down. I feel balanced. Elbows up so I can make a decent swing no matter where the pitch is. Got the bat angled toward the pitcher to help me keep from undercutting the ball and popping up to the shortstop. Ready to rock n roll. The pitcher releases the ball. Don't miss it you asshole. Seems a little flat....is it too flat? Will it hit the mat if I don't swing and I'm stuck with a stupid strike? You don't need that pressure, just swing, and don't freaking miss it. I take my stride to the ball, my bat flattens (idiot!), my elbows are too low (come on....we just talked about this!) and I'm dangerously close to letting my foot fall back into the canyon (broken ankle here I come). I make contact with the ball. It's shit. Pop up to the shortstop. Nice swing you asshole. You should have just missed it.
Unleash It
Hands are still sweating from that at-bat I just messed up. We only scored one run that inning. Crap. Needed to be better. Gotta hold them. No errors. Whatever you do don't drop the ball. If it comes to you don't drop the ball. You can't do anything if you drop THAT FREAKING BALL. Let's see...how should I play this guy? He's hit the ball all over the park tonight. He watches. He figures it out. He puts the ball in places where you can't get to it. He's gonna do it again too. Dammit. I'll force him to hit it to my left. There's a man on second who isn't too fast, one out, fly ball and it's a judgment call on whether or not he's tagging up and going to third. If I force the batter to hit to my left and put it more toward right field that will give the runner a little confidence. But he's still hosed....just don't drop the ball. The pitch is a little inside....uh oh. The batter is either going to try to pull it and put it right at me or he's going to try to slice it and pop it up a little. If he pops up, and doesn't get it out far enough, I'm golden. Boom! Works to a charm. Don't drop the ball! I'm in a perfect spot. Ranging to my left I get behind the ball. I'm not the best at approaching a ball with any pace because I'm afraid I'm going to DROP THE BALL. I'll just camp out a little and maybe start to make an approach at the last second. Caught. Phew. Barely. Don't drop it now though. Don't ruin it. It's just far enough that the runner has the confidence to run on me. Feet are ok, arm's a little tingly, hands a little sweaty, but I've got it. Put a good throw on and he's nailed. You've got a great glove at third who will bail you out if the throw at least beats him there. I'm online. I've got enough behind it. He's hosed. Out by a step and a half. That hurt. If you would have dropped it your arm wouldn't feel dead now. Come on! Nice throw....but come on!
Swing Batter
I grab whichever bat I think might give me my best shot at not just making contact but actually getting a hit. Some people like the end loaded, some the semi-ended loaded....I go with the balanced bat. The balanced bat gives me no extra pop for my swing path. It only gives me the ability for my shitty swing path to have any success rate. So I have my bat and I step up to the plate. There is a man on first and one on second, one out, bottom of the third inning, score is tied at 4. This is not a crucial at-bat by any means. A lot of ball yet to be played. But I can't go 0 for 2 to start the game. I have to earn being #2 in the order. Hands are sweating, I'm still feeling like I might yak because I tracked a ball in the outfield no more than 8 MINUTES AGO (I'm so freaking out of shape it makes me sick), and the 5 beers and half a large pizza I downed before the game are playing games with my stomach and esophagus. Concentrate. Whatever you do don't swing and miss. I dig my back foot in. I'm not comfortable stepping in the canyon someone else dug into the ground so I've set up right in front of it. Whatever you do don't step back in that hole and fall down. I angle my foot toward the pitcher. I feel it gives me better ability to drive to the ball and not fall away from it. My feet are now set. Now.....let's take a look at the rest of the stance. Hunched over? Nah....I'm pretty straight up and down. I feel balanced. Elbows up so I can make a decent swing no matter where the pitch is. Got the bat angled toward the pitcher to help me keep from undercutting the ball and popping up to the shortstop. Ready to rock n roll. The pitcher releases the ball. Don't miss it you asshole. Seems a little flat....is it too flat? Will it hit the mat if I don't swing and I'm stuck with a stupid strike? You don't need that pressure, just swing, and don't freaking miss it. I take my stride to the ball, my bat flattens (idiot!), my elbows are too low (come on....we just talked about this!) and I'm dangerously close to letting my foot fall back into the canyon (broken ankle here I come). I make contact with the ball. It's shit. Pop up to the shortstop. Nice swing you asshole. You should have just missed it.
Unleash It
Hands are still sweating from that at-bat I just messed up. We only scored one run that inning. Crap. Needed to be better. Gotta hold them. No errors. Whatever you do don't drop the ball. If it comes to you don't drop the ball. You can't do anything if you drop THAT FREAKING BALL. Let's see...how should I play this guy? He's hit the ball all over the park tonight. He watches. He figures it out. He puts the ball in places where you can't get to it. He's gonna do it again too. Dammit. I'll force him to hit it to my left. There's a man on second who isn't too fast, one out, fly ball and it's a judgment call on whether or not he's tagging up and going to third. If I force the batter to hit to my left and put it more toward right field that will give the runner a little confidence. But he's still hosed....just don't drop the ball. The pitch is a little inside....uh oh. The batter is either going to try to pull it and put it right at me or he's going to try to slice it and pop it up a little. If he pops up, and doesn't get it out far enough, I'm golden. Boom! Works to a charm. Don't drop the ball! I'm in a perfect spot. Ranging to my left I get behind the ball. I'm not the best at approaching a ball with any pace because I'm afraid I'm going to DROP THE BALL. I'll just camp out a little and maybe start to make an approach at the last second. Caught. Phew. Barely. Don't drop it now though. Don't ruin it. It's just far enough that the runner has the confidence to run on me. Feet are ok, arm's a little tingly, hands a little sweaty, but I've got it. Put a good throw on and he's nailed. You've got a great glove at third who will bail you out if the throw at least beats him there. I'm online. I've got enough behind it. He's hosed. Out by a step and a half. That hurt. If you would have dropped it your arm wouldn't feel dead now. Come on! Nice throw....but come on!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Miesner 2016
Is it time for the political parties to go away? Aren't we at that point in time where "ideals" and "beliefs" should be a person's own and not connected to politics? There are too many issues where REAL people want compromise, results, normalcy. How can we get that when no one wants to play nice?
Way back when, at the beginning of time, around 1770 something, political parties were important. There was no tv, no internet, no twitter, not even radio. Seriously. People wrote letters and sent them IN THE MAIL. Unfathomable. How was a politician supposed to get his message out? Strength in numbers that's how. If there are a bunch of people who "believe" in what you believe, and want the same things for the country as you want, you needed their backing so they could spread the word. It was a trickle down. "I heard that Abe dude, the Amish-looking stringbean with a kickass hat, is pretty cool. I'll probably vote for him." That was that. Someone heard it from someone else who maybe read it in a newspaper backed by the Republican party. Strength in numbers. Get the word out for your buddies!
Nowadays information comes at you from so many different avenues. One person can have a huge effect all by himself/herself. If Tim Tebow were to run for president a couple months ago, before Kyle Orton decided to let everyone know he could still play, he would have won Florida, Denver, and probably a couple more states. Hands down. It's a popularity contest. Lady Gaga has millions of followers on Twitter, millions more fans who like her music. Her influence on the young voters especially could be exploited like nobody's business if she wanted. Bono does it but it's underplayed. Things can happen by just making it the popularity contest it is. Make it transparent as possible. Get the word out for your buddies!
Get an army hero, from middle America, who went to college in the Northeast, runs his own company fairly well, surround him with rappers, rock bands and country singers, let him judge American Idol a couple times, put him as a guest host for Monday Night Football, talk about adding jobs, lowering taxes, and how he wants to make his military brethren happy and do whatever's best for them and boom.........there's the next leader of the free world. No party necessary. It's that easy. It's just that easy. (it's definitely not that easy) Now, go get the word out for your buddies and let's get a new front-runner for 2012. "I heard on Mike and Mike about this Herb dude who is pretty cool and thinking about running for president. I'd vote for him."
Way back when, at the beginning of time, around 1770 something, political parties were important. There was no tv, no internet, no twitter, not even radio. Seriously. People wrote letters and sent them IN THE MAIL. Unfathomable. How was a politician supposed to get his message out? Strength in numbers that's how. If there are a bunch of people who "believe" in what you believe, and want the same things for the country as you want, you needed their backing so they could spread the word. It was a trickle down. "I heard that Abe dude, the Amish-looking stringbean with a kickass hat, is pretty cool. I'll probably vote for him." That was that. Someone heard it from someone else who maybe read it in a newspaper backed by the Republican party. Strength in numbers. Get the word out for your buddies!
Nowadays information comes at you from so many different avenues. One person can have a huge effect all by himself/herself. If Tim Tebow were to run for president a couple months ago, before Kyle Orton decided to let everyone know he could still play, he would have won Florida, Denver, and probably a couple more states. Hands down. It's a popularity contest. Lady Gaga has millions of followers on Twitter, millions more fans who like her music. Her influence on the young voters especially could be exploited like nobody's business if she wanted. Bono does it but it's underplayed. Things can happen by just making it the popularity contest it is. Make it transparent as possible. Get the word out for your buddies!
Get an army hero, from middle America, who went to college in the Northeast, runs his own company fairly well, surround him with rappers, rock bands and country singers, let him judge American Idol a couple times, put him as a guest host for Monday Night Football, talk about adding jobs, lowering taxes, and how he wants to make his military brethren happy and do whatever's best for them and boom.........there's the next leader of the free world. No party necessary. It's that easy. It's just that easy. (it's definitely not that easy) Now, go get the word out for your buddies and let's get a new front-runner for 2012. "I heard on Mike and Mike about this Herb dude who is pretty cool and thinking about running for president. I'd vote for him."
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Genius C.K.?
The show "Louie" has been rocking my world lately. I used my DVR to record a few shows recently and I'm hooked. (I'm not willing to write DVR'd yet mostly because of that freaking apostrophe when there should be an ed.) It's so real yet so exaggerated at the same time. It's a completely different show than anything else I've ever watched. I've never seen "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" but I can bet that it sort of feels like that just from the previews.....still never seen it though.
Louis C.K. is a comedian and a damn good one. He's vulgar but somehow doesn't really cross that line of disgustation. He makes dick jokes but they're just innocent enough where most people can enjoy them. He laughs at his own jokes which dulls their effects a little bit. He's just really funny.....and his show is too. He "plays" a comedian, as himself, in the show. He has two kids, an ex-wife, and an obsession with masturbating.....and that's pretty much how the show goes forward.
A couple episodes have definitely impacted me but it's usually just a few scenes that make the biggest impression on me. One scene in particular that I recently watched was very jarring for me. Louie walks down the stairs into a subway station and there's a man in a tuxedo playing a violin. The man is killing it. Amazing stuff. Louie immediately dropped a few coins in the violinist's case and just watched as the guy just got down with that violin. In the background you can see a homeless man come down the stairs. At first he's out of focus but then you know Louie sees him and he is now in focus just behind the violinist (who is still playing beautifully). The homeless man begins to strip off his clothes and bathe himself with a bottle of water right there in the subway station, right behind the violinist, right in front of Louie. Louie doesn't know what to do. He stares at both men for a while and walks away once the violinist is finished with his piece he was playing. Just walks away. He gave the violinist money but not the homeless man showering with a bottle of water. What does that mean? What is he trying to say? Is he saying he's so disgusted by the homeless man that he can't pay him? Or that he didn't even think of giving him money because he was so grossed out? I don't know. But it got me thinking. A comedic show got me thinking. I know!!!
Another episode showed Louie and his two daughters on a trip to Pennsylvania (from New York) to see his great aunt. While driving Louie just starts getting down to the Who's "Who Are You". He plays the drums, the keyboards, sings lead vocals....all while driving the car. I mean he gets after it. He made that song his own. The man was pumped up. They showed pretty much the whole song/performance. The girls just sat in the background, staring, even when Louie engaged them with his hand microphone. Once the song ended you're allowed to just bask in the greatness of what you just saw for a few seconds of silence. The silence is broken when Louie sees a goose and tells his daughters to take a look. They get so excited and just look out the window as Louie drives on. What was the point of that?!?!? And what is he trying to say about his kids and what makes them happy? He just got weird with an amazing musical performance to a socially important song and the kids could care less. They see a goose and go apeshit. A comedy making me think again. I know!!!!!!
What I'm trying to say is that there is greater meaning in comedy than meets the eye. Louis C.K. is single-handedly bringing those greater meanings to life. Whether or not I, or any other viewer, can fully understand those meanings is up for debate. But he's doing it, man. He's doing it. And my world is becoming rocked. I know!!!
Louis C.K. is a comedian and a damn good one. He's vulgar but somehow doesn't really cross that line of disgustation. He makes dick jokes but they're just innocent enough where most people can enjoy them. He laughs at his own jokes which dulls their effects a little bit. He's just really funny.....and his show is too. He "plays" a comedian, as himself, in the show. He has two kids, an ex-wife, and an obsession with masturbating.....and that's pretty much how the show goes forward.
A couple episodes have definitely impacted me but it's usually just a few scenes that make the biggest impression on me. One scene in particular that I recently watched was very jarring for me. Louie walks down the stairs into a subway station and there's a man in a tuxedo playing a violin. The man is killing it. Amazing stuff. Louie immediately dropped a few coins in the violinist's case and just watched as the guy just got down with that violin. In the background you can see a homeless man come down the stairs. At first he's out of focus but then you know Louie sees him and he is now in focus just behind the violinist (who is still playing beautifully). The homeless man begins to strip off his clothes and bathe himself with a bottle of water right there in the subway station, right behind the violinist, right in front of Louie. Louie doesn't know what to do. He stares at both men for a while and walks away once the violinist is finished with his piece he was playing. Just walks away. He gave the violinist money but not the homeless man showering with a bottle of water. What does that mean? What is he trying to say? Is he saying he's so disgusted by the homeless man that he can't pay him? Or that he didn't even think of giving him money because he was so grossed out? I don't know. But it got me thinking. A comedic show got me thinking. I know!!!
Another episode showed Louie and his two daughters on a trip to Pennsylvania (from New York) to see his great aunt. While driving Louie just starts getting down to the Who's "Who Are You". He plays the drums, the keyboards, sings lead vocals....all while driving the car. I mean he gets after it. He made that song his own. The man was pumped up. They showed pretty much the whole song/performance. The girls just sat in the background, staring, even when Louie engaged them with his hand microphone. Once the song ended you're allowed to just bask in the greatness of what you just saw for a few seconds of silence. The silence is broken when Louie sees a goose and tells his daughters to take a look. They get so excited and just look out the window as Louie drives on. What was the point of that?!?!? And what is he trying to say about his kids and what makes them happy? He just got weird with an amazing musical performance to a socially important song and the kids could care less. They see a goose and go apeshit. A comedy making me think again. I know!!!!!!
What I'm trying to say is that there is greater meaning in comedy than meets the eye. Louis C.K. is single-handedly bringing those greater meanings to life. Whether or not I, or any other viewer, can fully understand those meanings is up for debate. But he's doing it, man. He's doing it. And my world is becoming rocked. I know!!!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Paper, Snow, a GHOST!
Passions, habits, and obsessions have their way of finding me it seems. My mom used to say I had A.D.D. But it wasn't the same as what everyone else knows it as. A.D.D. means attention deficit disorder. My mom used to say I had attention DIFFUSION disorder. Too much attention diverted around to too many things. Totally the opposite of not being able to concentrate at all. I think my mom was on to something with that.
In the last few years I've taken up such collections/obsessions including (but not totally exclusive to) wine, cigars, Scotch, craft beer, books (Dan Brown and Jeffrey Deaver especially), Blues hockey, Liverpool soccer, and fantasy football. Typically when someone gets hooked onto something new it replaces something old. I just add to my ever growing collection. Nothing ever gets replaced. It might get thrown into the background a little more than before but the obsession is still there. The justification for growing the obsession changes, that's for sure.
Wine used to run my world for a time. A fairly long time in the overall context of my life......at least once I turned 21. There wasn't a book out there that was not on my radar. I wanted to learn it all, I wanted to know it all, I wanted to be the go-to guy. It was my passion. It was what I loved. I dove in headfirst and it took a while to come back up for air. Then I found out about cigars......and it started over again. Magazines, books, online articles, etc. The wealth of information is out there and I needed it. I craved it.
My most recent obsession would probably be Scotch. It's the most subdued though. The nuances of the different types elude me. I don't want them to but they do. I can tell the difference between a pinot noir from Oregon over one from California from time to time. But I don't think I'll ever be able to tell the difference between a 14 and a 16 year old Scotch except that it seems smoother, and not all the time. I just can't wrap my head it around it.......yet. But I might get there. Like I said before, it won't stop me. I'll continue to stick with it, to put the time in to learn about it, to try to master it. It's what I do. The attention is diffused. Now it's going to take the time to make it my own. To get to the point where I want to be with my knowledge of it.
What will be next? I never know. I'd like to know, but I never do. I'm always open to suggestions though! I think I just heard a motorcycle outside. Gotta go.
In the last few years I've taken up such collections/obsessions including (but not totally exclusive to) wine, cigars, Scotch, craft beer, books (Dan Brown and Jeffrey Deaver especially), Blues hockey, Liverpool soccer, and fantasy football. Typically when someone gets hooked onto something new it replaces something old. I just add to my ever growing collection. Nothing ever gets replaced. It might get thrown into the background a little more than before but the obsession is still there. The justification for growing the obsession changes, that's for sure.
Wine used to run my world for a time. A fairly long time in the overall context of my life......at least once I turned 21. There wasn't a book out there that was not on my radar. I wanted to learn it all, I wanted to know it all, I wanted to be the go-to guy. It was my passion. It was what I loved. I dove in headfirst and it took a while to come back up for air. Then I found out about cigars......and it started over again. Magazines, books, online articles, etc. The wealth of information is out there and I needed it. I craved it.
My most recent obsession would probably be Scotch. It's the most subdued though. The nuances of the different types elude me. I don't want them to but they do. I can tell the difference between a pinot noir from Oregon over one from California from time to time. But I don't think I'll ever be able to tell the difference between a 14 and a 16 year old Scotch except that it seems smoother, and not all the time. I just can't wrap my head it around it.......yet. But I might get there. Like I said before, it won't stop me. I'll continue to stick with it, to put the time in to learn about it, to try to master it. It's what I do. The attention is diffused. Now it's going to take the time to make it my own. To get to the point where I want to be with my knowledge of it.
What will be next? I never know. I'd like to know, but I never do. I'm always open to suggestions though! I think I just heard a motorcycle outside. Gotta go.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Made in America
Hot dog or bologna sandwich? Shorter distance with stop lights or longer distance on the highway? Go to sleep or stay up to watch a shitty movie? These are some of life's toughest decisions.....ever......period. There's an easy answer every time but every time it alludes us. You pick one after deep thought, you're happy about it for no minutes, and you long for the other decision no matter how well your original choice panned out. There's no way around it. This is how it was for me growing up being a fan of both Andre Agassi and Pete Sampras.
Andre was the bad boy. He was, seemingly, the rebel without a cause, the anti-establishment poster boy, the image is everything playboy. He had the mullet, the bandanna, the jean shorts, the neon colors, and even wore black (OMG). He was Bon Jovi with a racket. Pete was the goody-two-shoes. Plain white clothes, naturally curly hair, and the dimpled smile. The understated gentleman. Both men's games were nothing like their styles though.
Andre's rock n roll image didn't match his methodical play. He was a grinder. A defensive genius. He'd run and run and make you hit shots. He could return anything you had. He would pick times to wear you down instead of just winning the point on an easy shot. He wanted to own you. He made you know he could take your best shot and you still didn't have enough to beat him.
Pete....he didn't even want you on the same court as him. He served huge. He sprinted to the net. He dropped a shot that is utterly unreachable. Then he'd do it again. And again. And before you knew it you were asked to try to serve against one of the best forehands of all time. Good luck. He ran people off the court. End the point. Next!
As a kid I never could really figure out who to root for, especially when they played each other. I loved the grit and determination Andre had, but Pete's polished efficiency was something to admire. I loved Andre and was in awe of Pete. When they played......awe usually took over. The best returner of the generation going up against the best server. Black vs. white. Bad vs. good. Rebel vs. corporate. They were marketers' dreams come true. So many storylines. So many things to compare and contrast.
There were times in matches where I would totally switch who I was rooting for. Hell....there were times in long points that I'd flip flop. They were the coolest guys ever. American tennis was inspiring. What happened to that? Andy Roddick looked to be the next best thing. Nope. One major and then a guy named Roger showed up. Then a guy named Rafa showed up. Now there's a guy named Novak. You hear about some of the kids coming up in America rarely. The men's game is so stout right now. It's hard to break into the top 10. Competition is fierce.
A few years ago a kid named Donald Young was supposed to be the next up and comer. Now they're talking about Ryan Harrison. Harrison might be legit but it's looking more and more likely Young might not ever reach the potential he was once thought to have. If Harrison gets to the top will he stay? Will there be another American who pushes him? Who beats him from time to time? American tennis needs another guy to hook onto. We're not meant to have just one star. People are stars because of who they're compared to. Peyton and Tom. Tiger and Phil. Kobe and LeBron. America loves that comparison. We thrive on it. Roddick was nothing but grilled cheese. Bring on the hot dog and bologna sandwich. America awaits.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Don't Stop Til You Get Enough
What has to happen for you to figure out when enough's enough? Do you have to break your leg and never be able to run correctly again? Do you need to be diagnosed with a terminal disease? Or is it simple enough that you can just stop at any time and have no regrets?
Being an athlete one's whole life can make a person crazy. You can feel miserable your whole life. Shoulder hurts, knees ache, back is all outta whack, ankles and hips popping all over the place, etc. As a kid no one had these problems. It was easy to play 4 games in one day and then three the next. No big deal. No soreness, no cramping, no problems. Those were the days. At some point as one gets older you stop being able to get by with that stuff. There's no chance you're waking up to run AND try to play softball that same night. Your body will literally fail on you the next day. Hamstrings and groin are tight, knees are bound up, and all the beer you drank over the three hours of "athletics" is doing a number on your insides. Sucks. But when is it time to stop?
Being an athlete one's whole life can make a person crazy. You can feel miserable your whole life. Shoulder hurts, knees ache, back is all outta whack, ankles and hips popping all over the place, etc. As a kid no one had these problems. It was easy to play 4 games in one day and then three the next. No big deal. No soreness, no cramping, no problems. Those were the days. At some point as one gets older you stop being able to get by with that stuff. There's no chance you're waking up to run AND try to play softball that same night. Your body will literally fail on you the next day. Hamstrings and groin are tight, knees are bound up, and all the beer you drank over the three hours of "athletics" is doing a number on your insides. Sucks. But when is it time to stop?
I'd like to think I'll never get there. I'm going to be the guy playing soccer and softball into my 50s until my body stops responding. At that point I'll just pick up another sport/game/athletic hobby and the show will go on. But there are days when I feel that's just not going to happen. There are days when I think I've hit a wall. I used to jump at the chance to sub for anything. Nothing going on Friday night, your cousin calls and needs your arm out in the outfield.....I'm down. But at some point the idea of just sitting on the couch watching the latest Netflix movie you got that day seems like a better option. After all, Saturday is a big day of cutting the grass and......something else I'm sure......and did I mention cutting the grass? Saturday comes, you look at the yard.....it can wait a day or two more. I'm tired. That movie last night was longer than I thought!
It's all about motivation. Motivation to be active. To be healthy. To be vibrant. To get back into the groove of what it's like to be a fully operational human being. You have to keep up on it. You have to stay in shape. It's tough to lose that shape you used to fight so hard for and get the motivation back up to do it all over again. There are too many reasons not to treat yourself to your health. Good food, good beer, good relaxation. But then the day comes when you're really feeling good. You really want to get back out there and play. You get the call. You get out there. You do poorly because you're out of shape and out of practice. And then depression sets in. Wake up the next day hung over, pissed off and sore as shit.....with nothing to show for it. That's when you have to dig deep. You gotta get back out there and get in shape to get yourself ready for the next time you get the call. Motivate yourself to be better. Let me know how that works out for you.....there's a good chance my couch is calling me. After all, I still haven't seen "True Grit."
It's all about motivation. Motivation to be active. To be healthy. To be vibrant. To get back into the groove of what it's like to be a fully operational human being. You have to keep up on it. You have to stay in shape. It's tough to lose that shape you used to fight so hard for and get the motivation back up to do it all over again. There are too many reasons not to treat yourself to your health. Good food, good beer, good relaxation. But then the day comes when you're really feeling good. You really want to get back out there and play. You get the call. You get out there. You do poorly because you're out of shape and out of practice. And then depression sets in. Wake up the next day hung over, pissed off and sore as shit.....with nothing to show for it. That's when you have to dig deep. You gotta get back out there and get in shape to get yourself ready for the next time you get the call. Motivate yourself to be better. Let me know how that works out for you.....there's a good chance my couch is calling me. After all, I still haven't seen "True Grit."
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Stream of Consciousness
This is a test in self awareness, consciousness, and my overall state of mind. Writing in a sort of stream of consciousness. Whatever pops in goes out. Here we go....
Listening to Pandora and Hungry Eyes comes on. Herb just mentioned on a comment I read about that being one of the songs that helped shape him. Great movie that Dirty Dancing. The Swayze at nearly his best. Not as good as in Roadhouse though. Unbelievable movie. Only once have I seen it. Changed my world. SPOILER ALERT: everyone dies and no one cares. Utopia it is not. But we can't really have utopias. Too much greed in this world. Communism in its purest form is a sort of utopia. Everyone sharing. Everyone helping for the greater good. The bigger cause. Capitalism contests those very ideas. I'd rather be a capitalist I think. I like helping people but not as much as I like having my own stuff. No way I'm giving up my tv to another guy unless I'm sure I'm getting a better one. Those LED tvs are amazing. Every time I watch something on an LED tv I go home and contemplate putting my foot through my LCD because it just plain sucks in comparison. I hate it. But there's nothing wrong with it in the grand scheme of things. It does what it should but fails to bring out the best a show/movie/Sesame Street has to offer. I watch a lot of tv when I think about it. A lot. I watch shit. I watch kids shows with my daughter. I watch tv and fall asleep watching tv....no matter what time of day. NFL naps are the greatest thing ever. Usually I fall asleep right after the second games start on Sunday and sleep until the third quarter. When I wake up I feel great and get to watch the best part of the games. Can't really do that with a lot of other shows and events though. Except NASCAR. I used to watch NASCAR all the time but I can't get into it anymore. There's too much swapping drivers and cars and teams.....what the fuck!
Listening to Pandora and Hungry Eyes comes on. Herb just mentioned on a comment I read about that being one of the songs that helped shape him. Great movie that Dirty Dancing. The Swayze at nearly his best. Not as good as in Roadhouse though. Unbelievable movie. Only once have I seen it. Changed my world. SPOILER ALERT: everyone dies and no one cares. Utopia it is not. But we can't really have utopias. Too much greed in this world. Communism in its purest form is a sort of utopia. Everyone sharing. Everyone helping for the greater good. The bigger cause. Capitalism contests those very ideas. I'd rather be a capitalist I think. I like helping people but not as much as I like having my own stuff. No way I'm giving up my tv to another guy unless I'm sure I'm getting a better one. Those LED tvs are amazing. Every time I watch something on an LED tv I go home and contemplate putting my foot through my LCD because it just plain sucks in comparison. I hate it. But there's nothing wrong with it in the grand scheme of things. It does what it should but fails to bring out the best a show/movie/Sesame Street has to offer. I watch a lot of tv when I think about it. A lot. I watch shit. I watch kids shows with my daughter. I watch tv and fall asleep watching tv....no matter what time of day. NFL naps are the greatest thing ever. Usually I fall asleep right after the second games start on Sunday and sleep until the third quarter. When I wake up I feel great and get to watch the best part of the games. Can't really do that with a lot of other shows and events though. Except NASCAR. I used to watch NASCAR all the time but I can't get into it anymore. There's too much swapping drivers and cars and teams.....what the fuck!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Turn It Up Again!!!
It's time for another rundown of some of the greatest music this world has ever known. We're going to take a look at some of the biggest ARTISTS of the 80s.
Tina "Bruises Easily" Turner.....that chick just straight up had it. She'd be your private dancer, she'd tell you that you were simply the best, she'd ask what love had to do with it, and.....most importantly.....she'd welcome you to thunderdome. Great stems lead way to perfecting the short skirt/dress. Her hair is as unmistakable as her voice. You know Tina when you hear her. I suggest you listen. You better be good to her.
If you feel it coming in the air tonight you know Phil. Mr. Collins is a musical genius. Short, bald, unassuming white guy from the UK......the definition of coolness. He was somehow able to marry a dozen or so women (someone look that up), have a phenomenal career, and be immortalized by Christian Bale's commentary of one of his albums as Bale is having a threesome (great movie, but could have been real life.....he's Batman after all). Phil Collins is an easy lover with a groovy kind of love......and that's no sussudio.
If you feel it coming in the air tonight you know Phil. Mr. Collins is a musical genius. Short, bald, unassuming white guy from the UK......the definition of coolness. He was somehow able to marry a dozen or so women (someone look that up), have a phenomenal career, and be immortalized by Christian Bale's commentary of one of his albums as Bale is having a threesome (great movie, but could have been real life.....he's Batman after all). Phil Collins is an easy lover with a groovy kind of love......and that's no sussudio.
This one's going to be a long one. Many of my readers know about my obsession. He didn't just touch me though (haha), he touched the whole world (hahahaha). Michael Jackson is the greatest performer of all time. There may have been better songwriters, better singers, better dancers (nope!), or even better performers (I'll kill you). No one did it better overall though. I can remember back when my dad used to steal cable watching his music videos. Unreal. Some of his videos actually showed people fainting. I never understood that when I was younger, but I do now. He had such a profound effect on people. He affected people. His music got into your soul. Man in the Mirror.....puts me in a good place every time. Dirty Diana.....totally opposite place. Emotional roller coaster that guy was. Everyone knows the big hits such as "Billie Jean" and "Thriller" and "Smooth Criminal". Not many people other than us crazed fans really know and appreciate the lesser known tracks though. "Liberian Girl" has some of his best vocals. “The Girl Is Mine” with Paul McCartney showed his ability to collaborate (and sound as gay as a human ever could). One of my favorites is actually “Another Part of Me.” It’s got the funk, it’s got the guitar hooks, it showcases his ability to do all of his little uhs, ows, doo doo doo doos, and hee hees…..it’s got it all. Totally underrated.
Keep on enjoying the best of the 80s. The planets are lining up, they’re bringing prouder days. It has been a cruel summer. Hold on to the nights. You’re a cold-hearted snake.
Keep on enjoying the best of the 80s. The planets are lining up, they’re bringing prouder days. It has been a cruel summer. Hold on to the nights. You’re a cold-hearted snake.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Before I Lose The Feeling....
Back in June I had the pleasure of going to the second Monday of Wimbledon with my lovely wife. It was a dream come true to say the least. The day had it all......and more.
I did my research before we headed for London. I knew we weren't going to be able to go to the "show courts" to see the big matches. Since we were going to be there on the busiest day of the tournament there was just no shot at making that happen. There were people camped out from Saturday night on to get those tickets. Nope.....the Moneys won't be seeing the big boys this year. There was too much to do the few days we were in London to waste a whole day sitting on a lawn waiting at least one day to be able to watch the Federers and Sharapovas of the world play. We were going to have to settle for general admission.
We woke up bright and early exactly around 6:02 AM.....approximately. We were able to get on a train very quickly and headed to Wimbledon which was less than 45 minutes away. No problem. I thought we'd probably be in the first couple thousand waiting in line. They don't start opening the gates until after 11 AM, they let in anywhere from 6000-9000 people usually. No worries......but then I saw the field of people. Waves and waves of people, 6 single-file lines as long as two football fields each.....holy crap that's a lot of people! We ended up being in the 5400s I believe. Phew! We were in. We were going to be seeing Wimbledon live. Stoked.
And now.......we wait. No chair, no blanket to sit on, only what we were wearing plus our rain gear to comfort us. 4 hours. On a lawn. Moving only to stretch. You debate on which people around you are actually worth talking to.....one. And she was borderline. Sitting there staring at the other people. Checking out the douchebags with their shirts off hanging out with the other douchebags with their shirts off. Watching the girls wearing high heels trying to navigate the vast expanse of grassland. Wondering how long you can last. And then....you start moving. Only they tell you it's just a little move. We're just moving to the other side. We'll be sitting there for a while too.
When we finally get in around 11:45 AM we are greeted to one of the greatest sights these eyes have ever seen......Centre Court (still can't believe it's spelled incorrectly though). Chills, goosebumps, and a single tear. I've arrived. The biggest event on my bucket list.....cross it off. Now.....what the hell are we going to do? Henman Hill!!! Packed. All day long. There were thousands upon thousands on the hill throughout the day watching the big screen which was showing matches from Centre Court and Court One. Cool experience.
Next we checked out some under 18 matches, some doubles, mixed doubles, etc. Nothing too exciting except for the 15-13 third set we watched put on by two of the top fifteen under 18 boys. That was cool. We watched the guys who took second in Men's Doubles....didn't think they had a chance at getting as far as they did. Went back to Henman Hill for a while. Bought some stuff. Drank some stuff. Fish and Chips were excellent. Pretty much took in the whole experience.
It was hot as hell, we didn't see any compelling matches live, spent a ton of money, and it couldn't have been any better. You're next........Lambeau. Who's coming with me?
I did my research before we headed for London. I knew we weren't going to be able to go to the "show courts" to see the big matches. Since we were going to be there on the busiest day of the tournament there was just no shot at making that happen. There were people camped out from Saturday night on to get those tickets. Nope.....the Moneys won't be seeing the big boys this year. There was too much to do the few days we were in London to waste a whole day sitting on a lawn waiting at least one day to be able to watch the Federers and Sharapovas of the world play. We were going to have to settle for general admission.
We woke up bright and early exactly around 6:02 AM.....approximately. We were able to get on a train very quickly and headed to Wimbledon which was less than 45 minutes away. No problem. I thought we'd probably be in the first couple thousand waiting in line. They don't start opening the gates until after 11 AM, they let in anywhere from 6000-9000 people usually. No worries......but then I saw the field of people. Waves and waves of people, 6 single-file lines as long as two football fields each.....holy crap that's a lot of people! We ended up being in the 5400s I believe. Phew! We were in. We were going to be seeing Wimbledon live. Stoked.
And now.......we wait. No chair, no blanket to sit on, only what we were wearing plus our rain gear to comfort us. 4 hours. On a lawn. Moving only to stretch. You debate on which people around you are actually worth talking to.....one. And she was borderline. Sitting there staring at the other people. Checking out the douchebags with their shirts off hanging out with the other douchebags with their shirts off. Watching the girls wearing high heels trying to navigate the vast expanse of grassland. Wondering how long you can last. And then....you start moving. Only they tell you it's just a little move. We're just moving to the other side. We'll be sitting there for a while too.
When we finally get in around 11:45 AM we are greeted to one of the greatest sights these eyes have ever seen......Centre Court (still can't believe it's spelled incorrectly though). Chills, goosebumps, and a single tear. I've arrived. The biggest event on my bucket list.....cross it off. Now.....what the hell are we going to do? Henman Hill!!! Packed. All day long. There were thousands upon thousands on the hill throughout the day watching the big screen which was showing matches from Centre Court and Court One. Cool experience.
Next we checked out some under 18 matches, some doubles, mixed doubles, etc. Nothing too exciting except for the 15-13 third set we watched put on by two of the top fifteen under 18 boys. That was cool. We watched the guys who took second in Men's Doubles....didn't think they had a chance at getting as far as they did. Went back to Henman Hill for a while. Bought some stuff. Drank some stuff. Fish and Chips were excellent. Pretty much took in the whole experience.
It was hot as hell, we didn't see any compelling matches live, spent a ton of money, and it couldn't have been any better. You're next........Lambeau. Who's coming with me?
Monday, August 22, 2011
Wrigley Field........I hate that godforsaken place. Let me enlighten you.....
a. They have somehow made it confusing to look at your section and mistake it for a different one. Let's say you have a ticket for section 534, row 4, seat 106. That's right.....106. You see the sign for section 534. It's on the right side of the aisle. That must be where you're sitting. That would be correct. Now....let's say you're sitting in that same section, same row, but seat 4.....where the hell is that? It's on the other side of the aisle! They've somehow managed to make 1 row of seats into 2 "sections". 101-110 on one side of the aisle, 1-10 on the other. Stupidest freaking thing I've ever seen. All game (as Cubs fans don't really watch the game but instead meander around the place doing whatever doesn't entail actually sitting there watching the goddamned game) people are having to switch sections when someone new comes to the game. The ushers are constantly moving WHOLE ROWS OF PEOPLE throughout the game. The reasoning they give: "It's an old ballpark." My response: "How old.....before people could count?!?!?"
2. Gotta pee? Give yourself at least an inning and a half to do it if you're sitting anywhere besides the lower level. No toilets anywhere besides the lower level. Made it until the 7th inning or so until I had to pack my bags, check the wind pattern, and get cleared for take off. Made the 5 minute trek down the 8 ramps or so to stand in line for another few minutes before I could piss in a trough. The trough.....genius. The placement.....retarded.
D. Obstructed view seating.....yep......they have those too. Support beams, both on the lower and upper level, make viewing the whole field impossible. Absolutely impossible. There are times you almost smoke the guy in sitting next to you in the face with YOUR face because you're trying to watching the play. Unbelievable.
x. I hate that freaking song!!! Go Cubs Go. They sing it after every win. And they sing it for a long time. And then they sing it all night. Then the bars play it....and they sing it some more. It's catchy, it's easy to remember, it's fun to sing it with everyone else.....and I hate it! It makes me wish for something of our own to sing when the Redbirds win. We used to have some songs in the 80s....long gone. Now we just cheer and leave and talk shit to the opposing team's fans. Not the Cubs. They cheer, they leave, they talk shit....and they get to sing a song the whole time they're doing it. God Damn It!!!!
a. They have somehow made it confusing to look at your section and mistake it for a different one. Let's say you have a ticket for section 534, row 4, seat 106. That's right.....106. You see the sign for section 534. It's on the right side of the aisle. That must be where you're sitting. That would be correct. Now....let's say you're sitting in that same section, same row, but seat 4.....where the hell is that? It's on the other side of the aisle! They've somehow managed to make 1 row of seats into 2 "sections". 101-110 on one side of the aisle, 1-10 on the other. Stupidest freaking thing I've ever seen. All game (as Cubs fans don't really watch the game but instead meander around the place doing whatever doesn't entail actually sitting there watching the goddamned game) people are having to switch sections when someone new comes to the game. The ushers are constantly moving WHOLE ROWS OF PEOPLE throughout the game. The reasoning they give: "It's an old ballpark." My response: "How old.....before people could count?!?!?"
2. Gotta pee? Give yourself at least an inning and a half to do it if you're sitting anywhere besides the lower level. No toilets anywhere besides the lower level. Made it until the 7th inning or so until I had to pack my bags, check the wind pattern, and get cleared for take off. Made the 5 minute trek down the 8 ramps or so to stand in line for another few minutes before I could piss in a trough. The trough.....genius. The placement.....retarded.
D. Obstructed view seating.....yep......they have those too. Support beams, both on the lower and upper level, make viewing the whole field impossible. Absolutely impossible. There are times you almost smoke the guy in sitting next to you in the face with YOUR face because you're trying to watching the play. Unbelievable.
x. I hate that freaking song!!! Go Cubs Go. They sing it after every win. And they sing it for a long time. And then they sing it all night. Then the bars play it....and they sing it some more. It's catchy, it's easy to remember, it's fun to sing it with everyone else.....and I hate it! It makes me wish for something of our own to sing when the Redbirds win. We used to have some songs in the 80s....long gone. Now we just cheer and leave and talk shit to the opposing team's fans. Not the Cubs. They cheer, they leave, they talk shit....and they get to sing a song the whole time they're doing it. God Damn It!!!!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
No Time for Time
A few years ago it seemed like sleep didn't matter, you could never drink too much beer, and there was always something to do even when there was nothing to do. Dart league starting at 7, drinking until the bar closed, get up for work the next morning, struggle your way through the day, then maybe go to a bar to watch the Blues game, drink until the bar closed, repeat. Those were the days. No one had any real responsibilities besides being at work. Most of us either lived at home with our parents or had just moved out and living with roommates. Life was simple. It was easy. Time meant nothing. Those days are long gone.
Waking up to a 2 year old daughter's coughing at 3 AM can do a number on a father. Empathy, sympathy, exhaustion, patience.....just please, don't cry. She can make or break my whole day. She can make me smile, make me laugh, make me angry, make me yell, make me cry. She rocks. And she better. She's the reason I don't close down bars anymore. She's the reason one night a week is usually the cap on how many times I go out. And she's not going to be the only one doing it to me. The wife is pregnant with number 2. Stoked.....but there will be even less time.
There is nothing I wanted to be more when I was growing up than being a dad. It was my thing. Couldn't wait. Not a professional soccer player, not an astronaut, not a fireman.....a dad. So much for a career plan. No goals for a professional life whatsoever. Just survive enough to take my kids to the park, go fishing, bowling, throw a ball around.....whatever they wanted. Lil Penny keeps me busy but she's still a bit young to do all the REALLY cool stuff. No riding bikes, no hunting for crawdads, no walking around the woods acting like I'm not lost when in fact there's a good chance we're both going to die out there. None of that yet....but it's coming.
Instead I sit on the floor and play puzzles, read thousands of books, make animal noises, sing songs, and eat cheese balls (Penny gets what Penny wants, or at least what I'm more than willing to give her). She's in bed by 9. I'm in bed by 11. It's just the way it is. I love my wife. I love my kid. I love my life. I wouldn't change it for a second. But that doesn't mean I quit yearning. Yearning for those few times that arise out of either intense planning or sheer luck that for one night things will go extraordinarily crazy. Those nights are great. Those next mornings are not. I struggle. No longer young enough to just grit my teeth and struggle the day away. I should have gone to bed earlier. That's when reality sets in. That's when the loves of my life take their ever permanent hold on me. That's when it all makes sense. That's when the dream is fulfilled. And that's when I'm truly a happy guy. It's Puzzle Time!
Waking up to a 2 year old daughter's coughing at 3 AM can do a number on a father. Empathy, sympathy, exhaustion, patience.....just please, don't cry. She can make or break my whole day. She can make me smile, make me laugh, make me angry, make me yell, make me cry. She rocks. And she better. She's the reason I don't close down bars anymore. She's the reason one night a week is usually the cap on how many times I go out. And she's not going to be the only one doing it to me. The wife is pregnant with number 2. Stoked.....but there will be even less time.
There is nothing I wanted to be more when I was growing up than being a dad. It was my thing. Couldn't wait. Not a professional soccer player, not an astronaut, not a fireman.....a dad. So much for a career plan. No goals for a professional life whatsoever. Just survive enough to take my kids to the park, go fishing, bowling, throw a ball around.....whatever they wanted. Lil Penny keeps me busy but she's still a bit young to do all the REALLY cool stuff. No riding bikes, no hunting for crawdads, no walking around the woods acting like I'm not lost when in fact there's a good chance we're both going to die out there. None of that yet....but it's coming.
Instead I sit on the floor and play puzzles, read thousands of books, make animal noises, sing songs, and eat cheese balls (Penny gets what Penny wants, or at least what I'm more than willing to give her). She's in bed by 9. I'm in bed by 11. It's just the way it is. I love my wife. I love my kid. I love my life. I wouldn't change it for a second. But that doesn't mean I quit yearning. Yearning for those few times that arise out of either intense planning or sheer luck that for one night things will go extraordinarily crazy. Those nights are great. Those next mornings are not. I struggle. No longer young enough to just grit my teeth and struggle the day away. I should have gone to bed earlier. That's when reality sets in. That's when the loves of my life take their ever permanent hold on me. That's when it all makes sense. That's when the dream is fulfilled. And that's when I'm truly a happy guy. It's Puzzle Time!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Here's Hoping
We are nearing the greatest time of the year to be a sports fan. Football, soccer, hockey, and basketball (maybe) seasons are starting up. Baseball playoffs are approaching. The US Open Series is going on for those of us who enjoy a little tennis from time to time. It's just a great time of year.
The new football season definitely draws the most attention here in the States. It has definitely overtaken baseball for America's national pastime. Fantasy football, already huge, grows leaps and bounds every year. ESPN dedicates whole segments of on-air programming to it. Its reach is unbelievable. There's not an American alive who doesn't at least know someone who is in at least one league. Football is all encompassing. It's American. There's structure to it. You know the times of the games aren't going to change. You know the players, even if their faces are obstructed by their helmets. You associate a team's overall feel with that of their home city. The fans reflect the team as much as the team reflects the fans. It's amazing. And it's starting. The world feels better because of it. You just hope you see some good games.
Soccer is on the rise but nowhere near football in this country. But the people who look forward to the soccer season don't do it because their lives aren't complete without it. They look forward to rivalries. They look forward to drinking in the morning. They look forward to an overdue Premiership title for Liverpool. Everyone roots for Liverpool. Well....only true soccer fans root for Liverpool. The rest of you are pretenders. Everyone hopes for a good season for Liverpool. Everyone.
Hockey season brings on a different type of hope. The hope is there to win the Cup for sure. But it's more of a survival feeling throughout the regular season. Make it to the playoffs and magic can happen. Hope for no injuries, hope your kids can play, and hope you didn't overpay for any of the veteran free agents you bought over the summer.
Basketball.....no hope. There's going to be no season this year. People just hope that if there is a season there is playoffs. If there's playoffs they hope there's a good guy and a bad guy to root for and against. And there's always hope Michael Jordan will come out of retirement and throw one down for old time's sake.
MLB playoffs are always exciting, but everyone just hopes it won't interfere with the football season too much. 162 games to figure out who's going to make it to the playoffs. Then all hell breaks loose. Good pitchers become great, great hitters forget how to hit, terrible fielders are still terrible fielders. And the word "clutch" becomes part of the everyday vernacular. "Albert is due. He's so clutch in this situation. I hope he hits one." Better hope you just get to see him next year.
And for you tennis fans.......Roger will not win this year's US Open. I hope he does, but he won't. He didn't get bigger. He didn't get faster. He didn't get stronger. He could make a run, but he won't win. I just hope he doesn't go up against Tsonga......ever again.
The new football season definitely draws the most attention here in the States. It has definitely overtaken baseball for America's national pastime. Fantasy football, already huge, grows leaps and bounds every year. ESPN dedicates whole segments of on-air programming to it. Its reach is unbelievable. There's not an American alive who doesn't at least know someone who is in at least one league. Football is all encompassing. It's American. There's structure to it. You know the times of the games aren't going to change. You know the players, even if their faces are obstructed by their helmets. You associate a team's overall feel with that of their home city. The fans reflect the team as much as the team reflects the fans. It's amazing. And it's starting. The world feels better because of it. You just hope you see some good games.
Soccer is on the rise but nowhere near football in this country. But the people who look forward to the soccer season don't do it because their lives aren't complete without it. They look forward to rivalries. They look forward to drinking in the morning. They look forward to an overdue Premiership title for Liverpool. Everyone roots for Liverpool. Well....only true soccer fans root for Liverpool. The rest of you are pretenders. Everyone hopes for a good season for Liverpool. Everyone.
Hockey season brings on a different type of hope. The hope is there to win the Cup for sure. But it's more of a survival feeling throughout the regular season. Make it to the playoffs and magic can happen. Hope for no injuries, hope your kids can play, and hope you didn't overpay for any of the veteran free agents you bought over the summer.
Basketball.....no hope. There's going to be no season this year. People just hope that if there is a season there is playoffs. If there's playoffs they hope there's a good guy and a bad guy to root for and against. And there's always hope Michael Jordan will come out of retirement and throw one down for old time's sake.
MLB playoffs are always exciting, but everyone just hopes it won't interfere with the football season too much. 162 games to figure out who's going to make it to the playoffs. Then all hell breaks loose. Good pitchers become great, great hitters forget how to hit, terrible fielders are still terrible fielders. And the word "clutch" becomes part of the everyday vernacular. "Albert is due. He's so clutch in this situation. I hope he hits one." Better hope you just get to see him next year.
And for you tennis fans.......Roger will not win this year's US Open. I hope he does, but he won't. He didn't get bigger. He didn't get faster. He didn't get stronger. He could make a run, but he won't win. I just hope he doesn't go up against Tsonga......ever again.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Soundtrack of a 28 Year Old Male
There's a ton of stuff I don't remember while I was growing up, or even yesterday for that matter. I don't remember when I started tying my shoes, I don't remember the first day of school (for any year), and I don't remember how much I paid for my first car. But there are many things, many many things in fact, that I do remember that are completely worthless. I remember Mike Zangrilli's home phone number, haven't called it in at least 12 years. I remember smacking my head on my galvanized pool and waking up in the middle of my kitchen floor when I was like 7 (explanation of that one below). And I remember movie songs....for the most part. There are definitely songs from movies that stand out though. Let's go chronologically, by how I remember them not by their release dates, and try to hit the big ones that had the biggest influence on me......
((So the galvanized pool incident.....I was using an inner tube, a big black inner tube that you use on float trips and stuff, as a pogo stick and bouncing around the back yard. I was just getting the hang of it when it slipped under me and I went face forward into the edge of the pool, smacked my forehead, busted me open, knocked me out, and I woke up in my kitchen with blood all over the place. Had to get stitches for sure. Still have the scar right between my eyes. Epic. Didn't really do that with an inner tube after that though.))
Somewhere Out There - "An American Tail" - I can still hear Fievel and his sister missing notes like they were going out of style.
My Little Buttercup - "Three Amigos" - Even though this link is not of the song it's worth watching to see the comedic genius that is Steve Martin.
My Little Buttercup - "Three Amigos" - Even though this link is not of the song it's worth watching to see the comedic genius that is Steve Martin.
I'm Alright - "Caddyshack" - Cinderella Story, comes outta nowhere....
Rawhide - "The Blues Brothers" - We got both kinds of music......country AND western.
Winner Takes It All - "Over the Top" - Only the singlest greatest arm-wrestling for the custody of a child movie....ever. You gotta take it.
Rawhide - "The Blues Brothers" - We got both kinds of music......country AND western.
Winner Takes It All - "Over the Top" - Only the singlest greatest arm-wrestling for the custody of a child movie....ever. You gotta take it.
Destinaton Unknown - "Top Gun" - A truly underrated song on a definitely appropriately high-rated soundtrack. We had that whole soundtrack on repeat for what seemed like a decade.
Twist and Shout - "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" - When Cameron was in Egypt's land, let my....Cameron.....go.
No Easy Way Out - "Rocky IV" - Tough call on which one I was going to pick for this movie/pentology....but I think this one was definitely a decent choice. There's no shortcut home.
Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) - "The Big Lebowski" - What's a pederast, Walter? Shut the fuck up, Donnie.
Please comment with your own favorite songs from movies past and present.
((So the galvanized pool incident.....I was using an inner tube, a big black inner tube that you use on float trips and stuff, as a pogo stick and bouncing around the back yard. I was just getting the hang of it when it slipped under me and I went face forward into the edge of the pool, smacked my forehead, busted me open, knocked me out, and I woke up in my kitchen with blood all over the place. Had to get stitches for sure. Still have the scar right between my eyes. Epic. Didn't really do that with an inner tube after that though.))
Monday, August 15, 2011
It Ain't Prison Ball
The most electrifying day in sports entertainment is quickly approaching. The day when the dazed and confused, the drunk and stupid, the men and the boys meet on hallowed ground to do battle. This ritual has been going on for longer than any of us really remember. Multiple years get remembered as one. Every year is special though. The Day After Thanksgiving Football Game (TDATFG from now on) is the greatest day on the calendar.
I've been a part of this sacred practice for at least 12 years I'd say. I'm not the man who started it though. Long before my arrival the legend was born. Sometimes in snow, usually the coldest day of the year, and rarely a nice day, TDATFG is played with great intensity, little skill, and massive creativity. The alcoholic beverages per capita increases and the overall fitness of the players involved diminishes exponentially every year it seems. Over the years there have been many injuries (Chunk.....his ear!), one lifetime expulsion (sorry Luke, it's for the best), and we've even had black people (and they sucked). TDATFG has it all. The perfect day.
I've been a part of this sacred practice for at least 12 years I'd say. I'm not the man who started it though. Long before my arrival the legend was born. Sometimes in snow, usually the coldest day of the year, and rarely a nice day, TDATFG is played with great intensity, little skill, and massive creativity. The alcoholic beverages per capita increases and the overall fitness of the players involved diminishes exponentially every year it seems. Over the years there have been many injuries (Chunk.....his ear!), one lifetime expulsion (sorry Luke, it's for the best), and we've even had black people (and they sucked). TDATFG has it all. The perfect day.
Some people poo poo the game. They say that we're dumb/gay/retarded for still playing it. We care not. The true ambassadors of the game know the importance of it in the grand scheme of things. I mentioned the booze.....that really should be enough. But how often do you get a chance to beat the hell out of some of your best friends and them not just be okay with it but be totally stoked that you did it? The injuries, the soreness, the drunkenness.....it's all perfect.
Last year was the first year I've missed since starting playing those many years ago. I was crushed. Surgery on my shoulder put me out. Worst thing to ever happen to me. I still showed up to the game though. I drank a lot of beer, I cheered, I ran around talking trash.....AND I drank a lot of beer too. It was a great day. This year will be better. We need the best to show up this year. The football, as usual, will be lacking. The creativity will be immense. The plays will be intense. The beer will flow like wine. And all will be right in the world. This year let's make history. It's the day after Thanksgiving by the way.
Friday, August 12, 2011
You're In Big Trouble, Mister!
Did you ever get smacked or hit or spanked as a kid? I didn't. I feel like I should have. But I didn't. My sister didn't either.....except one time (and I'll tell you about that in a few minutes). Corporal punishment just didn't happen while I was growing up. Not when I left my bike outside overnight, not when I got picked up by the cops BEFORE going out to egg a friend's house, not even when I was 14 and my dad found my stash of booze hidden in my closet (still hurts that he poured my Wild Turkey down the drain right in front of me). Those are the highlights for sure because the stories behind them are more memorable than the result, and there were multiple other opportunities for my mom and dad to beat on me, but not once was I hit. Will I hit my kids? Nope. Won't need to.
Growing up there were always kids getting spankings for numerous reasons, deserved and not. It wasn't that big of a deal. I saw it, I heard about it, I didn't want it but sometimes it seemed much easier than what I was going through for the same offenses. My mom would talk and talk (and talk) to me about what I did, why I shouldn't do it, who I hurt or would have hurt by doing it, etc. Boring. I even asked her to spank me one time when I was little just to be done hearing about how shitty I was. I was done with it. My dad, on the other hand, had his own ways.
Remember, I was never hit.....but that doesn't mean I wasn't scared shitless of getting hit at any moment for screwing up. My dad had a way of letting me know verbally and by use of volume what I did was wrong and I sure as hell better not do it again. Never make the same mistake twice. If he had to tell me once it was because I didn't know better. I never wanted to know better, but I always did. Kids would play soccer in the living rooms of their houses not caring if they broke anything, or at least not worrying about it if they did. Why was that? My dad would beat the shit out of me.....at least that's what I thought. My mom never said, "When your dad gets home he's going to beat the shit out of you." Why would I think it then?
There's a respect that grows out of fear when it comes to parents. My dad is an awesome guy. I love him. He can weird as hell, but he's awesome. He was always awesome. He made me know I was loved. But he also made me know that my actions reflect on him as a parent. He didn't care for the normal upbringing stuff like making my lunch, giving me baths when I was very small, or even tying my shoes. Teaching me to hit, throw, kick, ride a bike (2.5 years old bitches!) and change the oil....that was his thing. If he taught it to me, or even talked to me about it in the first place, it meant something to him. If it meant something to him it HAD to be important for me. That's where I got that fear I think. Your dad can be the coolest guy a boy knows when he's growing up. I didn't want to look bad to him. What if he didn't want me around? What if he didn't want to teach me anything else? Had to keep him happy. Had to keep him teaching me. And if he taught it to me once, I was to learn it. If I didn't.....well I don't have to tell you what would happen.
(the time my sister got hit was epic. she called my dad an asshole at the dinner table when she was 16. he was sitting directly across from her with mom and me on either side. she had been a bitch all day and he had heard enough. he reached across and smacked her, POW, right in the kissa. she started crying, screamed something, and ran to her room. he didn't look up from his food until the door closed to her room. my mom and i high-fived across the table because she was due. my dad didn't say a thing. he only sat there, reached across the table, took her plate and started eating HER food. we all ate great that night!)
Growing up there were always kids getting spankings for numerous reasons, deserved and not. It wasn't that big of a deal. I saw it, I heard about it, I didn't want it but sometimes it seemed much easier than what I was going through for the same offenses. My mom would talk and talk (and talk) to me about what I did, why I shouldn't do it, who I hurt or would have hurt by doing it, etc. Boring. I even asked her to spank me one time when I was little just to be done hearing about how shitty I was. I was done with it. My dad, on the other hand, had his own ways.
Remember, I was never hit.....but that doesn't mean I wasn't scared shitless of getting hit at any moment for screwing up. My dad had a way of letting me know verbally and by use of volume what I did was wrong and I sure as hell better not do it again. Never make the same mistake twice. If he had to tell me once it was because I didn't know better. I never wanted to know better, but I always did. Kids would play soccer in the living rooms of their houses not caring if they broke anything, or at least not worrying about it if they did. Why was that? My dad would beat the shit out of me.....at least that's what I thought. My mom never said, "When your dad gets home he's going to beat the shit out of you." Why would I think it then?
There's a respect that grows out of fear when it comes to parents. My dad is an awesome guy. I love him. He can weird as hell, but he's awesome. He was always awesome. He made me know I was loved. But he also made me know that my actions reflect on him as a parent. He didn't care for the normal upbringing stuff like making my lunch, giving me baths when I was very small, or even tying my shoes. Teaching me to hit, throw, kick, ride a bike (2.5 years old bitches!) and change the oil....that was his thing. If he taught it to me, or even talked to me about it in the first place, it meant something to him. If it meant something to him it HAD to be important for me. That's where I got that fear I think. Your dad can be the coolest guy a boy knows when he's growing up. I didn't want to look bad to him. What if he didn't want me around? What if he didn't want to teach me anything else? Had to keep him happy. Had to keep him teaching me. And if he taught it to me once, I was to learn it. If I didn't.....well I don't have to tell you what would happen.
(the time my sister got hit was epic. she called my dad an asshole at the dinner table when she was 16. he was sitting directly across from her with mom and me on either side. she had been a bitch all day and he had heard enough. he reached across and smacked her, POW, right in the kissa. she started crying, screamed something, and ran to her room. he didn't look up from his food until the door closed to her room. my mom and i high-fived across the table because she was due. my dad didn't say a thing. he only sat there, reached across the table, took her plate and started eating HER food. we all ate great that night!)
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