I'll get to my recap of my recent trip to Germany soon. I'll need to finish my video first, and I still need to get all the pics from Mike. Until than you can start to get an idea of what went on by checking out his views on the whole trip -- Or at least the first part of it for now.
In the meantime we can talk about football. This year has been a lot of fun for local fans. We've gotten the chance to support a talented team that seemed to finally be catching a few breaks rather than getting kicked in the teeth every Sunday.
The build-up to Sunday's playoff game against the patriots was pretty incredible. I drove to work early Thursday morning and the sports-casters were broadcasting live from the House of Blues (aka: house of powder blues), which was full of raucous bolt fans -- this is like 6:30 in the morning on a week day.
I was fortunate enough to get a couple tickets to the game itself. It was cold and windy up in those view seats, but the stadium was full of excited charger fans. If I were a crapy sportscaster I might say the mood was...electric?
The first indication that something was not quite right was the unleashing of the "new Chargers anthem" by local wankers P.O.D.
Hmmm.
Still we all rallied behind the crappy Jesus-Jock-Rock and the game was soon underway.
You could probably point to a number of "turning points" and "missed opportunities", but for many of us the back-breaker came when the Chargers were still up by 8 points and the defense needed one more big stop on 4th down.
The stadium was rocking; every fan knew just how critical this one play would be. A successful stop here and the home team would be in a great position to put this one away once and for all.
Brady drops back to pass and fires over the middle of the field. As soon as the ball was in flight I could see that the Chargers safety, Marlon Mcree was going to make a move on the ball and end the drive for New England.
I pumped my fist high in the air and blasted a triumphant battlecry into the cold early evening sky. I screamed with such vigor that I somehow strained the muscles in my neck. I felt a lil snap near the base of my skull and my head suddenly started to pound. The stadium started to spin just a lil and from far off I could hear my buddy Iwan say something like: "Oh no!!!"
"Wait...what happened?" I said, placing my hand on my seat to steady myself.
"McCree picked the ball off and than fumbled it away!"
I fell back into my seat. My head was pounding and my neck felt sore.
"He didn't just bat it down?" I asked.
"Dude...first and ten, patriots!" Iwan replied.
My ears felt like they were struggling to keep my brain inside my skull as I put my head between my knees. I was pretty sure this was the end. I couldn't believe we just gave the three-time superbowl champs four more downs -- A fresh start deep in our own territory. We all put on a brave face, but I think most of us had that sinking feeling that this was the bell toll.
Sure enough the Charger's luck had run out. Despite Tomlinson's 170 yards and Brady's three interceptions, the Chargers lost by 3 points.
I've never seen a town collectively get kicked in the pants like that. Everyone seemed to be walking around with a rain cloud over his or her heads for the next few days.
At work today everyone seemed to sorta shuffle in to their desk, brow-beaten, eyes to the floor. There's a lot of sighs, and headshakes, and talks of what could have been and what should have been.
Of course the home team losing a playoff game is hardly the sort of thing one should really be upset about. But no one seems to be able to put things in perspective. It's like the Patriots came to our birthday party, stomped on our cake, and set fire to our presents.
I know it's a little long in the tooth, but I love this song (and video). I feel like this must have been made by Americans who are making fun of Germans -- Like this video should have been premiered on sprokets.
You might remember that before I left for South America, I spent some time trying to learn some Portuguese before I left. By chance I happened to pick up the Pimsleur CD' s for my chosen language and I was really happy with the system...
[Something about that Pimsleur website makes it look like it might be associated with the Hanzo corporation]
...I'm especially enthusiastic about the system after trying something different for my upcoming trip to Germany. The "Learn in your Car" series is a pile of shit. Stay away. I went back to my Pimsleur buddies and have been making some pretty good progress in picking up a some of working German.
When I was going through the course for Portuguese I couldn't help but feel as if the authors operated on certain assumptions when crafting their lessons. Now that I've ventured into the German language lessons for a bit, those assumptions have come into sharper focus thanks to the contrast between the two. So while the Portuguese lessons seems to give a traveler some outstanding tools for picking up lusty prostitutes, Pimsleur's attitude toward German women seems a little colder. Consider this piece of dialogue from somewhere around lesson 10:
Me: Hello Miss!
German Woman: Hello
(Apparently I have no time to mess around so I get right to the point)
Me: I would like to eat something with you. At what time would you like to eat with me? One o'clock?
German Woman: No...not at one o'clock.
Me: At two o'clock?
German Woman: No...not at two o'clock.
Me: Would you like to eat with me at four o'clock or five o'clock?
German Woman: No sir. I do not want to eat with you at four o'clock or five o'clock?
Me: you want to eat later...at eight o'clock!
German Woman: Certainly not!
Me: at nine o'clock?
German Woman: No. I do not want to eat with you.
Me: Ah I understand...You do not want to EAT something. You want to DRINK something! Something at the restaurant in Opera Square!
(you have to give me credit for a positive attitude at least)
Me: What time would you like to drink something? one o'clock?
This goes on again, with me asking this woman for a drinking date for practically every tick on the clock. Finally (after more begging on my part) she finally says: German Woman: I do not want to drink something with you at four o'clock or five o'clock. and for good measure I don't want to drink with you at eight o'clock or nine o'clock.
Me: Would you like to drink something with me later?
German woman: You don't understand.
Me: What don't I understand?
German Woman: You don't understand German.
At that point the lesson abruptly ends which I think is "code" for a door being slammed or hand being slapped at my face.
So there you have it. The world according to Pimsleur is filled with hot and spicy Brazilian sex-pots but Germany is home only to the likes of Frau Blucher.
More (sorta) related German news is the current state of my recent fascination with random (mostly German-made) boardgames. Our little group (which began with about four Puerto Rico players) has really blossomed into a decent sized pool of people willing to spend a few hours on all sorts of intriguing games from all over the world. I've even managed to convince a few girls to join in!
It's a great hobby. I love how it brings people together. We can sit around the table, have a drink or two, and enjoy eachothers company while playing games that usually move pretty quickly but are genuinely interesting.
So if you're a friend of the blog and are interested in joining us one of these nights, let me know and we'll see about getting you in.
Here's my last bit of German-stuff. One of my all-time favorite animations. Sadly the youtube video of it doesnt read all that great -- give it a look anyway:
On Tuesday, just a few days after arriving in Belo, a group of us went out to a soccer match in town. The local club (Galo – who’s mascot is a gigantic rooster) was playing a division 2 game against a team from Sao Paulo. Eduma, who is a Brazilian teacher at the school where Becky works, took care of arranging out tickets and drove us to the game.
Everyone had a few drinks before leaving, and Rita and Eduma seemed to spend a large portion of the evening having a competition over who could cram the most curse-words into a single sentence. It was pretty much a dead-heat all night; although Eduma may have pulled away on the drive home as he shouted English profanity to everyone we passed by (assuring us that they didn’t understand what he was saying anyway).
We arrived at the stadium pretty early and the gates weren’t open yet, so we milled around the outskirts where a myriad of different vendors had small carts set up to sell food and drink. At some point Rita decided she needed to use the bathroom in a serious way and so Eduma approached one of the still closed gates in attempt to convince security to let her in for the restroom. They were unwilling to help but Rita (with her limited Portuguese skills) decided to press the issue herself. Amazingly she managed to break down the gatekeeper’s resolve and sprinted for the bathroom. She came back beaming with pride and decided that this incident was proof that she had finally become “fluent” in the local language. A point she brought up with great frequency for the rest of the evening J
The game itself was fantastic. The atmosphere in the stadium was top-notch. The throngs of supporters chanted, sang songs, and zealously celebrated each goal with raucous vigor.
This night was also something of a turning point for me in terms of my alcohol consumption during this trip. Even though I had never previously had more than one or two beers in one night, I somehow found myself knocking down 5 or 6 during the course of this game. I would have thought that woulda spelled trouble for me, but I didn’t really feel much. This basically green-lighted my increased level of consumption for the rest of the trip.
Of course most of us had put away our fair share of beers, but that didn’t stop Eduma from driving us home that night (with a beer in hand actually). Throw in the fact that there was no working seat-belt where I was sitting and I’ll go ahead and admit to being slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
Speaking of discomfort: the drive home yielded yet another fabulous adventure in bladder control, this time for LBB who went from, “I need to pee but I can hold it till we get home” to some sort of “code-red, emergency” over the course of about a half hour or so. The drama intensified every five minutes when Eduma would insist we were only TWO minutes away from a bathroom stop.
Finally we had to just pull over and let the poor girl relive herself in the weeds on the side of the road. The punch-line of course is that we soon discovered that at that point, home literally was only 2 more minutes away.
Some time ago I was chatting with a friend of mine who also happened to be an ex-girlfriend. The conversation had turned to relationships and how a person should behave while in one. Specifically we were talking about how important thoughtful acts - even small ones - can be in maintaining a rewarding and fulfilling love affair. Most of us have experienced the warmth that fills us when someone we care about does something that shows how well they know you.
At some point in this conversation I somehow managed to suggest that _I_ was particularly considerate in this respect. My ex responded with something like, "no your not. In all the time we dated I can't remember a particularly thoughtful thing you ever did for me."
I was stunned -- partially by my own stupidity. I mean, it's probably not the best idea to ask an ex (no matter how friendly you are with her) for a report card on your boyfriend-behavior. At the same time I had no way to refute her claim. My mind was sorta spinning. Like most people, I assumed I was an excellent parnter. What was worse: I was being criticized for being deficient in one of the areas I assumed I was particularly strong in.
I couldn't muster a response. My mind was totally blank. Maybe I WAS totally thoughtless. After some long, awkward, moments I managed to bring up a few counter-examples but they were quickly shot-down for one reason or another. I left the conversation feeling angry, hurt, and humiliated.
This sort of thing can happen though. Every now and then we come face-to-face with a version of ourselves that is totally opposite from the person we believe us to be -- Like some sort of bizzaro-world, evil-twin.
***
This weekend I spent some time north of the grapevine, south of Bakersfield, and kinda in the middle of nowhere at a waterski ranch. The Vittitoes - longtime family friends of mine - have a place to sleep and a ski-boat there, along with plenty of hospitality. Their daughter Danika (who's my age)was there, along with her boyfriend Matt, and college pal Alex. The Vittitoes youngest Chase was also around. It was a fun little group. Here's the cast:
Danika: Smart, likes to read law-books, enthusiastic and passionate, empathetic. I've known her my whole life.
Alex: Big. This was brought up over and over again. He also was totally amiable, down for anything, good natured kinda guy -- definitely the coolest Olympic discus thrower / bobsledder I have ever met.
Matt: Quick-witted and sarcastic. He smiles a lot, talks easily about most anything, and drove the boat. He is also something of a Bakersfield local and was able to show us a couple "hot spots" in town.
Chase: Chase hasn't washed his hair in like a month or something so I didn't get too close to him. Actually that's not true (about not getting too close I mean). Chase is the Vitittoe baby and the only one left in the nest (mostly). He's a die hard surfer, earnest, and a hell of a inner-tube rider.
Craig and Suzanne: Mom and Dad. The closest thing I have to a second set of parents. Their only annoying quality is that they refuse to let me help pay for stuff.
Before I continue I should say a word about the Waterski lake itself. It's a slightly strange place. Well...maybe not strange...but definitly unexpected. It reminds me a lil of a Japanese garden. Japanese gardens always seem to be about control. About humans taking something that is generally chaotic and unpredictable and forcing it into a particular and deliberate standard of beauty.
The waterski lake is like that. It's in the middle of the California desert. Surrounded by agriculture. There should be no bodies of water here. Yet...There it is. Electric blue water (some call it "toilet-bowl blue") laps up against shores adorned with carefully cropped lawns of neon green grass and big shady trees. It doesn't make much sense...But it's really quite pleasant.
We arrived on Saturday afternoon and I was really chompin at the bit to get in the water and do some skiing. While I used to do quite a bit of it in my youth, I rarely get the chance to now-a-days. Within a few hours of my arrival I was floating in "lake one" with a ski strapped to my feet and waiting for the boat to surge into action and lift me out of the water.
My first attempt was a no-go. I struggled against the pull of the boat for a moment or two before the rope left my hands.
"no big deal" I thought. Just a lil rusty. I'll get it the second time.
Only I didn't get it the second time. Or the third. Or the fourth. Or the fifth.
By the end the rope was just flying out of my hand the moment the boat started moving. Not only was I extremely frustrated...But I was suddenly THE cheesy metaphor for a viagra ad. I mean really...I could NOT get it up. Each time the motor roared to life, and the rope flew out of my hands I could hear an announcer say, "If you have a problem getting or keeping an erection, your sex life can suffer. So don't miss the boat on this special offer...Talk to your doctor today".
At one point, Craig drove the boat by and asked, "would you like to try two skis?" He was trying to be helpful...But inside I was furious. "I don't NEED two skis." I thought, "I'm GOOD at this". It was like having your lover you look at you - eyes filled with fake concern in an attempt to mask the shame - and say, "maybe we should just use the vibrator tonight".
I tried two skis anyway...It didn't help. I was face-to-face with a bizzaro me. A pathetic and weak evil twin who was an idiot out in the water.
The next day I streched out my forearms, pounded some advil, and made a second attempt. At first ilooked a lot like I did the previous day. But on the second pull I crammed my thumb down over my fingers, grit my teeth, and finally managed to get myself out of the water.
I wasn't so much happy as I was relieved. My triumph was short lived however. Whatever I had done wrong the first day (I suspect I had tried to start with my arms bent rather than straight which puts tremendous strain on them) had pretty much ruined me. The rope was constantly slipping away from me and I couldn't maintain a solid grip long enough to execute any turns.
Ah well. I ended up being able to handle some wakeboarding at least -- that's always fun. The highlight (in terms of watersports) for me ended up being the tubing which shredded my hands and demolished what was left of my ability to hold on to anything but was completely fun and totally worth it.
So despite my failure out in the water the weekend was a really a blast. I always love hangin' with the Vittitoes and Danika's friends were great. We played some cards, ate great food (including a family-style Basque place), played some tennis, got plenty of sun, and got to rock-out in Bakersfield. Pretty freakin great. I can't wait to go back.
(A few things to talk about today so I don't think I'll be able to deliver this post with my usual laser-like focus.)
The Sky is a Hazy Shade of Winter
Curling aside, the general consensus seems to be that the winter Olympics are much more exciting than the more standard summer Olympics. There's still a lot of the same old sentimental bullshit, but the sports themselves seem more thrilling. You got your speed freaks in downhill skiing, and all the bobsledding variations. You got your The upstart snowboarders. You got the graceful traditional figure skaters (with goofy outfits to snigger at). You got your fluid and exciting speed skating. I watched hours of Olympic coverage last night and wasn't bored.
One of the most intriguing aspect of the speed skating is all the controversy tha sprung up with Apolo Ohno's victory by default over South Korea's Kim Dong-Sung in 2002. I managed to find a South Korean broadcast of this event years back and it did not disappoint. When the decision came through that disqualified Kim, the Korean announcer sounded like someone was sucking his intestines out through his belly button.
The Koreans were "displeased". I mean check out this video.
So I was really looking forward to the re-match (sort of - Dong-Sung wasn't racing again instead it was Ahn Hyun-Soo as the Korean favorite). Unfortunately Apolo got greedy and fucked up all the drama.
Another entertaining aspect to last nights games was the company I was keeping. Liz and Pete came over, two friends of mine with deep roots in the snowboarding industry. So watching the Winter Olympics with them is like having Joan and Melissa Rivers on your couch while watching the Oscars. They spend as much time (or more) commenting on what the athletes are wearing than how they perform. It's hilarious. Liz was getting visibly angry at some of the things people were wearing.
Puttin All Kinds of Shame in the Game You Got
As a result of some prodding from the birdman and some simultaneous inspiration from a co-worker, I've become increasingly interested in boardgames. Specifically games in the "German-Style". The way I understand it, there is a whole sub-culture of board games influenced by European designers - many of whom are German mathematicians like Riener Knizia.
Once you start to investigate this world, you quickly discover that the grandaddy of these games is probably Puerto Rico. Phipps put it well when he said, "If I wasn't told that Puerto Rico was the best game ever I never would have picked it up". There's nothing too exciting about it on the face of things, but some friends and I put it to the test for the first time last night and it was really an exceptional game.
It's really interesting to watch a group of people work out a new system of game mechanics and rules like we did on Saturday while playing PR for the first time. There is this initial feeling of trying to find ones way through a dark room in the beginning. Everyone is sort of flailing to make sense of everything. It's cool to watch the transition from total confusion to comprehension to actual strategic decision making.
The game itself has some of the flavors of the classic Monopoly game in that the objective is basically to acquire wealth and build a commercial empire. However, Monopoly is very short on real decision-making, and long on luck. Puerto Rico gives players multiple strategic options and rewards savvy tactics. It utilizes some unusual play-mechanics coupled with some amusingly un-PC elements to make for a great game.
I have been known to partake in the occasional game of chance. I've doubled down, made the nuts on the river, rolled hot dice, and tried to hit 4 game parlays on a teaser ticket. For the most part I like to think I'm a pretty savvy gambler. There is one place where I can't seem to wrangle myself a win. That place is where the turf meets the surf -- the Del Mar Race Track.
Despite my dismal record playin the ponies, I still find myself at the races fairly often in the summer. The marketing wizards teamed up with local radio stations a few years back and started bringing some cool bands to the track on race day. All you need to do is buy a cheap ticket into grounds and you can rock out once the horses stop running.
Of course...It's a cheap ticket until you drop 50 bucks on "Ludicrous Speed" in the 6th. Seriously...How do you NOT bet the farm on a horse called "Ludicrous Speed"?
After yet another winless afternoon I took a moment to look back on my horse-betting career and I was pretty sure that I was in the midst of a 5-year dry spell. I don't mean it's been 5 years since I've come out ahead, I mean I think it's been 5 years since I cashed a winning ticket.
Well that dry spell came to a thunderous end this past weekend as I rode "Runs In The Family" to a thirty dollar victory. It was an appropriate name since my dad has always been fairly successful at the track and since this was the first time I approached my betting using advice he gave me a few days earlier.
I also went and saw Cake who played after the last race was run and put on their usual fantastic performance.
While walking around, winning money, and rocking out, I noticed a few things I'd like to share with you.
1) Horse racing and toddlers do not mix.
Del Mar does have a grassy infield that was designed to appeal to families and I can understand wanting to bring your kids out to the races for a few hours. It's a good theory, you got animals (so it's kinda like a zoo), you got junk food, semi-fresh air, and sunshine.
In practice it's stupid. Especially on the day that Coors sponsors a Micro-brew beer festival in the infield. It's a recipe for disaster as droves of drunken beer fans collide (literally) with the stroller set. Little Timmy gets to witness profanity and debauchery first hand while fisting his face with Kettle Korn.
2) Concerts and small children do not mix.
Here's a message to the pregnant chick standing 5 people back, at a general admission rock concert, tryin to control the rest of her under-aged brood while the crowds around her swell and threaten to trample her off-spring...."You are a retard".
Oh and to the guy who standing a couple feet to the side of her with his huge igloo cooler..."You are also a retard".
Well the saga of my surf racks appears to have drawn to a close. It was something of a clumsy close, but a close none-the-less. At last I can transport my surfboard to the beach. I awoke Saturday with plans of joining a friend of mine from work over at 4th street, but when I looked at the manual that came with the surfboard attachments, it was immediately clear that I had the wrong instruction book.
The dealer had to fax me the proper instructions and so my first surf session in months was postponed for another day.
The racks themselves are examples of some of the clumsiest design work I have ever seen. It's especially strange considering that almost every other part of my vehicle seems to be the result of excellent vision and creativity.
I won't really go into all the details, but I'll tell you this: It takes about 10 minutes to get you board all strapped in. There are all sorts of loose bits of metal involved which means you have to treat the whole system very carefully lest you want to take big chips out of the paint job.
So on the whole, while I'm stoked to be getting back in the water, I think the manufacturers could have put a better product together.
***
Here's some video game stuff for the ladies out there.
I lost in the first round of my Madden league playoffs just now. That officially makes me the Marty Schottenhiemer of our lil league. Strong in the regular season...chokes in the post season. I really felt like I got robbed by the computer in this one. I had at least 6 open-field dropped passes (4 from a H-back...but still), three of my starters got knocked out of the game (including my quarterback...leaving me with the far from exceptional Kannell to lead my final drive), and that 70-yard touchdown scramble from Lewis didn't help my cause none either. Thus I lost 7-10. Boo that.
Perhaps my inability to lead my team to victory has something to do with the massive amount of time I have spent on Worlds of Warcraft. One of the main problems here is that I have three separate groups of friends who play on three different servers. Still it's cool to try out lots of different character types and stuff.
One of my favorite things about WoW is the sheer volume of inane guild names. Guilds are permanent little groups of people who play together. They get to put a little guild tag under their name and have their own separate chat channel. Ideally they give you a solid network of good, like-minded people, who help eachother advance through levels and explore the realms of Azeroth.
In practice however it means a lot of desperate 14 year olds are out there pimping their lil club. I accidentally joined one guild without even knowing it called "The Meaning of Death", which prompted the following dialogue from my buddy Nemesis (Tyric):
Tyric: Can you explain death to me?
Pinpricks (me): What?
Tyric: Cause apparently your familiar with the meaning of death. =)
Pinpricks: What the hell are you talking about?
Tyric: Your guild...
Pinpricks: Oh for fucksake.
Pinpricks: /quitguild.
Most guild names are extremely stupid like that. "Angels of Hell" was another one that offered me membership. I'm sure there are people walking around with "cool dudes" or "Evil Killers of Wrath Death Studs" and the like.
Actually that's a pretty cool name...Anyone interested in joining MY new guild?
Monday night (thanks to my work-buddy Dan Legg) I was able to watch a taped copy of the Euro 2004 group match featuring England versus France. Certainly one of the most dramatic matches I've seen. Poor England got a real kick in the pants on that day.
the BBC has a neat "Virtual highlights" feature on their football website that's worth checking out.
The version of the game I saw had English commentary. What was so interesting about it was how the sports casters took total ownership of the English side. Usually home-town broadcasters (while obviously biased) will still refer to the team they represent as "this team" or "that defense". These Euro 2k4 broadcasters referred to the English National team, as "us", "we", and "our".
On top of that there's all sorts of colorful ways in which they deliver their commentary that made it a lot of fun to watch.
I watched a little bit of a celebrity poker match on Television last night and I realized that it's time for me to develop an illogical and unreasonable fascination with Daniel Baldwin.
That guy is _SO_ awesome! He was sitting at the poker table...All cocky and coked-up...Just so lovable.
I realized after a few minutes of web searching that he has no official (or unofficial) fan site. Rest assured I will be working hard to rectify that.
This weekend was filled with fun and excitement. Saturday a bunch of work peeps rolled down to Ski Beach and we had a lil BBQ. We played some volleyball (Top Gun style), and just hung out. It was great.
On Sunday I resolved an issue that popped up earlier this week. That issue was the death of my Mitsubishi Eclipse. The Eclipse served me well for about 7 years now, but it practically fell apart as I pulled into the parking lot where I work on Wednesday.
So yesterday I hopped on a train and headed up to Smell-A, to Nick Anderson Imports. It was there where I purchased my new ride. I have to say, I'm extremely fired up on it. I've never had a "new car" before and it's a cool feeling.
The wierdest part is when I pull up behind another car and I see my reflection in it's tailgate. I'm so used to seeing my old car in there...I guess I know what those "Swan chicks" feel like.
Last week Pat Tillman was killed in action in Afghanistan. Before he was a special forces soldier he was a pro football player. He gave up a multi-million dollar contract and the opportunity to fulfill what was likely a life-long goal. While our country has lost hundreds of soldiers in conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. Much has been said of this particular soldier, who seemed to have it all...and gave it all for something he believed in. You gotta respect someone who holds so strongly to his convictions. He also look like a friggen action hero. Check it out:
Contrast Tillman's story with that of San Diego's newest villain: Eli Manning. Eli Manning (or perhaps more accurately his puppet master father) believed in something too. He believed that he was better than the organization that is to support him for the rest of his life. A system that would no doubt bring him incredible wealth and renown. He believed that he was too good to play football in San Diego and get paid millions of dollars for it. He was also too good to play in whatever number the Giants would give to him. Eli demeaned that one of his new teammates abandon the number that Manning coveted.
So he and his father instead took an already struggling team and kicked them in the pants. As a Charger fan...I would like to say "Fuck you " to Eli Manning. And I present to you : My dream senario for the coming years.
We begin with New York and their training camp:
Giants running back Tiki Barber, shows up to find his uniform, and personal effects strewn all over the locker room floor. He looks over towards his locker to see Eli Manning sliding the "Tiki" name plate out of it's holder and replacing it with a shiny new "Eli" plaque.
"Hey Tiki, sorry about your stuff there...but I ALWAYS get the center locker...you understand right?" Manning smiles.
An enraged Barber leaps over the locker room benches and begins wrestling Eli to the floor. The fight is quickly broken up with Barber and Manning forced to run extra laps as a disciplinary measure. While running Eli trips and skins his elbow. He gets up slowly and claims to need the entire pre-season to heal "both physically and mentally". A frustrated Jeremy Shocky threatens to give Manning a real reason to heal.
Meanwhile back in Charger town everyone is getting along perfectly. San Diego's no-name receivers respond well to their new quaterback (Phillip Rivers), and suddenly they seem to move faster, catch better and run crisper routes. River's meanwhile has somehow managed to work through all the problems with his fundamentals and throwing mechanics in just a couple short weeks. Coaches also marvel at how easily he seems to adapt to more complicated NFL offensive schemes.
Back in New York the Giant's offensive line decides to take their new QB out to Peter Luger's in an effort to build a strong relationship with the rookie. Manning - unhappy with the limo service, the choice of restaurant, and the manner in which his linemen choose to dress themselves is bitter and argumentative for the entire meal. As a result of this meal Eli Manning will become the most sacked quarterback in history in his first season.
Phillip Rivers and LaDanian Tomlinson lead the chargers to 3 consecutive superbowl victories while Eli Manning is unable to to complete a touchdown pass. His Giants finish in last place (giving the Chargers a sweet first round draft pick next year). Manning eventually gets traded, then let go. He' is last seen wandering the streets in a crack-induced stupor offering to do anything or suck anyone for just one more hit.
How many people are afraid to poop in public? I don't mean in the middle of a park somewhere, I mean in a public restroom. I talked to two people (who shall remain nameless...but they were both girls) who told me that they hated dumping in public restrooms because they were afraid that other people would know what they were doing.
"Even if your quiet about it, they people in the stalls next to you can hear if you take more than one piece of toilet paper! One piece = goin pee, anymore than that and they _know_"
*
My knee has been troubling me for the past month or so. I've been seeing a sports medicine doc and along with some anti-inflammatory pills he prescribed some physical therapy. I've never been to a physical therapist before and it was kinda neat. I always like it when a doctor can tell you with certainty what's goin wrong and how to fix it.
My PT was very good. She showed me what a normal knee looks like, what me knee was doing in comparison and explained how we were gonna fix it. Huzzah. Luckily it doesn't seem like a big deal. Basically she told me that my knee cap naturally "rides high". It's also apparently a little outta alignment compared to a normal knee. All that causes it to "swim around" a lil. Her solution is to do some strengthening of my quad muscles to keep that kneecap in line. Hopefully it will work...I'd like to be able to play soccer again soon.
*
I built a sauna this week. Well sort of. H-bomb ordered this "pre-fab" sauna to aid in her Lyme treatment. It came in about 10 pieces with poorly written instructions that left us scratching our heads for a lot of the process. It was strange to me that such an expensive piece of equipment would come with such horrible directions -- directions completely devoid of illustrations. But we figured it all out in the end and now there's a sauna in her garage. Knowing that I was instrumental in it's construction made me extremely concerned for H-bomb's safety while she actually used it. Apparently it works fine...but I don't think I'm ready to go in it yet.
*
A big golf tournament took place last week. It was a match-play competition that featured many of the top players. Since my dad's house is right on the course...the game basically took place in his backyard. I had dinner with him (and other family members) last night. He told me that he was hanging out outside for much of the semi-finals and had the television broadcast of the event piped out to the exterior speakers. This was partially so that he could be outdoors and hear it...but also so that the course rangers and tournament staff (those who were stationed at the hole close by) could listen in as well.
Since it was late-round match-play there wasn't much activity on the course and he left the broadcast blasting on (for the aforementioned reasons) and went inside to putz around. Lost in his other tasks he suddenly remembered what he had done sometime later and turned to one of the TV's inside to see that the tournament had made it's way to the hole just beyond his yard. The announcers were saying something like, "Davis Love is clearly distracted right now by one of the near-bye residents who's television is blaring out onto the golf course".
My dad bolted outside and he said the entire audiences attention followed him as he ran across the backyard to the remote control where he finally turned the volume down.
Love's opponent had not yet taken his tee shot yet but Love did. After my dad turned the sound down he turned back towards the course to see the other golfer's caddy surreptitiously give him the thumbs up.
Your love's got me lookin got me lookin so crazy in love.
I ate pizza for lunch today and now I'm regretting it.
My weekend ended up being pretty solid. Civ on Friday night. I went for a great bike ride on Saturday, headed over to my dads place and visited with him for a bit. That evening Heather and Mike G and I went to the Belly Up to check out the B-side players which was pretty fun. The best part of the evening was watching Mike G get sauced and work his game with some of the ladies we ran into at the club. It was awsome.
Sunday Heather and I went for short bike ride and picnicked at the beach. The weather didn't quite hold up as the fog rolled in right around the same time we rolled out. But still it was a nice lil excursion.
The week was also a fantastic week to be a NFL fan. How much fun have these playoffs been? With few exceptions in the wild-card round all the games have been nail bitters! A couple things:
1) The Rams have me so conflicted. I like rooting for Marshall Faulk...I hate rooting for Mike Martz. That guy is such a jackass.
2) I, along with the rest of the world, wanted to see Farve pull it off against the Eagles - but when your defense gives up a clutch 4th and 26 you deserve to lose
3) I love it when games play out just like their supposed to like a low scoring trench fight between the Titans and the Pats, or the high flying shootout between
K.C and Indi
awesome.
Heather and I were talking this weekend about the sort of games kids make up, and how random they are. I remember my brother and I one night while on vacation somewhere, came up with this random game that involved rolling billiard balls across pool tables, at high velocity, towards each other. That one ended in tears.
Another one that ended in tears was one H-Bomb told me about. She and her friends called it, "Truth" and it was basically a circle of girls sitting around and being brutally frank about their opinions of each other. Every time they played it, it always ended with everyone bawling.
"So what you guys played this in like Junior High?" I asked through some chuckles.
"No like in 11th grade" She responded.
Girls are sometimes very different from boys. I can't picture anything like that taking place between Mike, Marc, and I. Now back-pack battles....now there's a game!
I finished up a few of my thank-you notes for this last holiday season. Here are some of the images I made for them. Check em out!
This is one of the greatest days of my life. Well perhaps that's overstating it a little bit...But seriously...I'm fired up today. Today I am the champion of my fantasy football league. I didn't realize how pumped I would be to actually win this thing. Ahhhhh fantasy football. Is there anything more embarrassing when looked at closely?
For those who don't know: Basically a fantasy football player drafts a "team" of real nfl players. Your players real-life performance each week translates into points for your fantasy team. Your fantasy team then matches up against one other fantasy team each week, compares points and those points decide a winner.
So as a fantasy football player...You essentially do nothing and claim all the credit. That's not exactly true of course. You have to draft a good team, and choose the best players to play each week, but luck plays a large role in your success and failures. For some people (namely me) luck plays a larger role than for others.
However: boys will be boys, and boys seem to excel at injecting value and meaning into things that have none. I don't know many girls that care to understand why fantasy football is so exhilarating.
So it was last night, Monday night, the last game of the fantasy football season...Where my 8th seeded "Rat Pack" played it's final player against the greatly favored "1.21. jigiwatts" (well coached by Marc Fortier) and their last player. We had dueling receivers. I was slightly behind in the score totals as my boy Javon Walker, took the field along side Marc's Robert Furgeson. In real life the two are team mates, but in our world...Bitter bitter enemies both vying for a league championship.
The game itself was a blowout but it was exciting for Marc and I everytime Brett Farve let go of one of his many many long passes. As it turned out...A lot of the good ones (inlcuding the touchdown ones) fell into the hands of my player Javon Walker...The leagues glorious "crown of tinfoil" fell into my possession.
Huzzah!
And so here I am...Walking on air. I seriously woke up extra early this morning excited to read the reactions on our fantasy football site. Funny stuff.
Once there was this kiiiid who got into an accident and couldn't come to school.
I had a graaaaand weekend.
A couple of parties. Good friends. Another round or Return of the King. Good stuff.
Friday Heather and I went to Liz's "Margarita party" where she and her sisters / cousin get extremely hammered. Always a good time. Here's a picture:
The following night Heather and her sister threw their super cool holiday party. For which I made a flyer. Check it out!
They party was a lot of fun, and H-bomb was really in her element. It was awesome to see her really cut lose. The band was fun as always, but a lot of people seemed to leave before they were finished performing which really sucked. Hopefully they still had a good time performing. One of Heather's high school friends, Kelly, was also at the party. Heather and Kelly don't see eachother much (Kelly lives outta town), and I've only met her twice now. She works for ILM and always has some interesting stuff to say about her work. So that was cool too.
Sunday I took Heather to the movies where we met the Spraggs and family along with Heather's friend Coral to see Return of the King. I enjoyed it just as much the second time around. Heather liked it but not nearly as much as I did. Which is okay...She's come a long way from "I hated Fellowship of the Ring" to at least telling me that she likes the series. I then spent the rest of the evening peppering our general conversation with statements like, "You know what else I liked in that movie", or asking questions like, "Which character do you like the best in LOTR?"
:)
Tonight marks the final game of football that has relevance to this seasons fantasy football adventures. My team has an opportunity to win the whole thing. My opponent Marc and I are pretty close with the lead in his grasp going into tonight's game where we have dueling Packers receivers set to go at it. I really hope I win!!!
I thought that this week would be "The week of me". After an improbable victory in fantasy football, and a solid win in my madden league that solidified a space in the playoffs, and a good week of research for my work...I figured my soccer team was a shoe-in to take the whole thing in the playoffs tonight. Alas it was not to be. Cancel my travel plans to Vegas.
I really did think we had the best team this season. Hopefully we'll get another shot at it next season. Man...we played awful tonight.
There's a little black spot on the sun today. It's the same old thing as yesterday.
So here's how big of nerd I am. Last year, I decided to utilize the Madden video football game's "create-a-player" and "create-a-team" features to make a new "pro football squad" populated mostly with my and my friends. Then I'd set both teams to "computer control" and watch the games play out. I'd then report the results to my buddies, who all seemed to really get into it.
So much so that we actually got together to watch a number of the games as a group.
I figured I'd roll the whole thing out again this year since people seemed to like it so much last year. Just to get people excited about it I edited a little video together for a sort of "preview".
I still have that problem with the images coming out dark, but it's not too bad. Check it out if you like!
* Mike Graessle (my roommate)
* Mike Roston (My pops)
* Mike Stuparich (My buddy from high school)
* Mike Humphrey (My buddy from college.
Nice work me.
Anyhow...This has been a festive weekend of sorts. Friday night...I did nothing...(that's not the festive part)
Saturday I visited with my dad who is recovering from Hernia surgery. (he's doin fine). Saturday night I went to a wedding. I feel like weddings have become my hobby. Some people like to skateboard, some people like to go to clubs. I go to weddings. Which is okay because weddings are fun. But I may be ready for a new hobby soon.
BAMW (Banned At My Wedding)
Here are a list of songs banned at my wedding (if I ever have one). This is by no means a complete list and as such...a work in progress:
- Celebration
- We are Family
- Play that Funky Music White-boy
- YMCA
- Shout (by the Isley Bros)
- Mambo no. 5
- Macarena
- Chicken Dance
- Love Shack
That's all I can think of for now, but I know there's more. Anyone requesting these songs at my wedding will be forced to pay for their dinner and be asked to leave (and no you can't have your gift back).
The wedding I went to did play some of these offending songs, but salvaged the evening as time wore on and played some good fun stuff. So that was good good good.
Sunday the aforementioned college pal of mine, Mike Humphrey, decided to pay me a visit and drove down from Long Beach...basically so we could play Mario Kart all day. This particular Mike was my primary adversary in Mario Kart battles/races (Mario Kart 64 style) back in the day. So we had some nostalgic fun and I didn't have to deal with the pain of another Charger defeat.
Also on Sunday: Soccer, The Make-Up Game. Don't be fooled! We did NOT run around the field with eye-liner and mascara on. It was to make up for the week of the wild fires when the air was too poor to play in. We played short-handed for much of the game with no subs against a team with 3 subs.
You might think we lost.
You would be wrong.
Huzzah.
In other news I will finish A Game of Thrones on the morrow. I expect I'll be picking up the second installment of the series soon after...If I don't get peer pressured into reading the Da Vinci Code first.
In response to my last post Eric sent me a link to illustrate the proper way to be sexually suggestive. Makers of "Sackup" products please take note. Thanks Eric!
Here's a neat picture:
From left-to-right that's my brother Sean, my cousin Eric, and me. Sean recently moved to Reno to recover from his latest tragedy and spend some time with my mom. My brother and I rarely spoke while he was living here in the same city as me, but since he moved away it seems like he calls me a couple times a week. He mostly calls before football games to find out which teams I think will win / cover the spread, and then after those football games to ridicule me for whatever picks I get wrong. It's pretty funny.
A couple nights ago my buddy James and his band Filth Juggernaut played down at Brick by Brick. It was a big show for them because they got to open for a major label band called Clutch. I had actually seen Clutch many years ago when they opened for Bad Religion and I remember thinking they were pretty solid, so I was only to happy to go and support James and his bandmates. The show was pretty good (considering that I'm not overly fond of their style of music). So huzzah for James.
In other news my soccer team is 4-0 right now. We've added a new player. You might call him a "ringer". You might be right. It's amazing how one player can turn your whole team around. It's also possible that we are playing less capable opponents this season as well. Either way...it's nice to be on the winning side more often than not.
Go to Nike's Gridiron.com. On the bottom right hand corner there is a button for the Television ad. click on it. It's an awsome CG commercial. I suspect it's done by people from Square (Final Fantasy, The Final Flight of the Osiris)...can anyone confirm or deny?
A few days ago some dumbass hunter got lost (I know I know..."dumbass" and "hunter" in the same sentance is usually pretty redundant) set off a flare in the middle of the dry-brush and pretty much burned down east san diego county. "oops" he might be heard to say.
I head someone on the radio this morning complain that this tragedy also highlights how unprepared the county is for this sort of thing and not to blame the hunter...but I imagine that if my house burned down, or someone close to me died in the fire...it would be pretty hard for me to not blame the hunter.
The air quality even way out bt the coast is awful, and everything has a strange alien-oarange tint to it. There is ash everywhere. It's really pretty serious. So far I am not directly linked to anyone who has lost a home (though I suspect there are a few people from my work who are at risk).
One of the less tragic consequences of this whole fire is that the first monday night football game in San Diego in years...has been moved. I have to tell you that I am pretty dissapointed about this. Don't get me wrong...I have the proper sense of perspective and all...but I had tickets to the game, and I was really looking forward to it. I have been to plenty of football games before but never to a monday night game. Oh well...maybe in two years...because the chargers certainly wont get one next year with the way they're playing.
In other news, my girlfriend just got a new kitten so that their other young cat has someone to play with. At the moment the plan is not working out too well since the old-school cat seems to hate the new-school one. But the new kitten sure is cute (as you might expect). The lil guy is about the size of my fist and belts out the most pathetic lil "mews"...ahh kittens...so much fun.
That's that. No work today so I'm gonna go back and play some more video games. I would like to go out and ride my bike or surf or something, but the air is so disgusting right now that it's actually probably healthier for me to be inside, eat junk food, and play games!
