Bullet Attack

Since I took a week or so off, we’ve got some catching up to do.  And when I’ve got a multitude of things to cover, I like to attack it bullet point style.  Let’s get right into it. 

–The last two weeks have been pretty good for my sports teams.  Ohio State has won their last two games in convincing fashion, including their most recent win; a 45-0 stomping of New Mexico State.  The Titans had a bye last week, marking the first Sunday all year they didn’t embarrass themselves, so that was nice.  Then they beat Jacksonville this past Sunday, so bonus nachos.  Kerry Collins is out and (gulp) Vince Young is in.  Hang on to your hats, folks, this could get interesting. 

–In other sports news, the bet between JK and I about the Vikings is getting interesting since they’ve propelled themselves to a 7-1 start and sit atop the NFC North.  Remember, if they make the Super Bowl, I have to buy a Brett Favre jersey and wear it seven straight days, the seventh being Super Bowl Sunday.  A picture will be taken of me each day holding the newspaper to verify, and each picture will be posted right here on this very blog for tens of people to see.  Conversely, if the Vikes fail to make the big game, then JK has to take a video of himself crying on his cell phone and send it to me.  That video will then be posted here.  I take a great deal of comfort in the fact that the road to the Super Bowl currently goes through New Orleans, and the more I watch them, the more I think Drew Brees would absolutely demolish the Vikings’ secondary.  A lot of pride and roughly $65 is on the line with this one.  Stay tuned to see how it unravels.

–What else … Oh, I found the next thing that will inevitably consume the bulk of my free time in the coming months:  Nintendo Wii.  Jess has one, and I am officially hooked.  I know I’m WAY behind the curve on this one, but I was always content with my Xbox 360.  Until now.  Wii Tennis is the greatest thing, maybe ever.  Of course, being the competitor I am, I wagered a challenge to Jess prior to playing.  I believe I can be quoted as saying that I would “take her to the woodshed” and “beat her like a rented mule.”  Little did I know, she’s an ace.  Not only did she beat me three times in a row, but she spent the third game sitting on the couch with her legs crossed drinking a Diet Mt. Dew, and STILL beat my ass.  No joke.  I finally got her number in the fourth game, and I have since pulled a little closer to even with her skill-wise (after putting in about 3 hours of practice), but man, that was emasculating, it was embarrassing, it was disgraceful. Let’s not talk about it anymore. 

–Have you heard about this H1N1 thing going around?  Apparently it’s spreading like wildfire.  I’ve never really been afraid of getting sick, but I work with 25 other people everyday, and I’d be willing to bet that at least 15 of them have been sick over the past two weeks.  I guess it’s the nature of our business, being as my work groups are handling more packages than a hooker on the corner of Main and Broadway, but that only intensifies my fear of what kind of disease could be traveling around in our warehouse.  I’ve really spent a lot of time washing my hands and using hand sanitizer lately, just as a precautionary, and so far so good.  I can’t say I’m afraid of getting H1N1 per se, because I know I’m healthy enough to shake it off, but everyone I know that’s had it has been absolutely miserable for upwards of a week.  I just hate being sick, even for a day.  I do think that the media is still blowing the whole thing way out of proportion though, but that’s another post for another day. 

–I hate the New York Yankees with everything inside of me.  Julie, you live in New York.  Any chance I could get you to walk down to Yankee Stadium and pee on it for me?  Let me know. 

–We officially made it to November without any accumulated snow, which was my personal goal.  It’s been getting progressively colder as the days go by, but we managed to escape any major snowfall thus far.  So we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.

–According to the little counter thingie at the right hand side of my home page, I have eclipsed 50,000 views since I started posting.  Even though I have to imagine 22,000 of those have come from Eric visiting the site 16 times a day only to see that I haven’t posted, 50 grand isn’t half bad.  Thanks are due to everyone who has been reading and commenting. 

–What else??  I feel like I’m forgetting something.  Hang on, I’ll think for a minute.  (Jeopardy music plays.)  Hmm, I guess that’s it for now.  Nothing else has really happened in the past week or so. 

One love,

10

… Oh yeah, I remember now.  Jess and I got engaged last Thursday.  I knew I was forgetting something.

Movin’ On Up

I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t have much time right now so I’m gonna make this short and sweet.  Sorry for the recent time off, but I had to take some time to set into motion my most recent life-altering change.  Last week I began packing up my apartment, and then over the weekend, I moved everything out.  A lot of my things went into storage, I donated a bunch to my sister, who recently moved into her own apartment (more on that in a minute), and the remainder – the things I need on a daily basis - came with me to my new home … my girlfriend’s parents’ house. 

Yeah, we covered this already, and if you haven’t made fun of me yet for it, this is the second of what I assume will be many, many opportunities to rip on me.  However, I’m liking it so far.  I got all moved in Sunday, spent Monday cleaning up my old place, and I have spent the last couple days slowly taking my stuff out of boxes and putting my new room together. 

Back to my sister.  She spent Sunday moving out of my Dad’s house and into her own apartment.  So, I find it slightly ironic that at the exact same time I, being 26 years old, moved out of my apartment and in with Jess and her parents, my sister, who is 21 years old, moved out on her own.  Agreeable symmetry?  Perhaps.  Depressing? Not in my opinion.  Downright funny?  Absolutely. 

I’m very pleased with my new digs thus far.  I’ve got plenty of my own space, I’m always there alone before work, there’s actually food in the kitchen, and my bedroom is quiet, one thing that was not so in my old apartment.  It’s been an extremely easy transition, thanks mostly to how helpful everyone has been.  I expect that I’ll be back to a normal routine by this weekend, and then I’ll be back to my normal writing habits.  It’s funny how over the past week, I had probably five or six ideas that would have made solid posts, but I didn’t have time to write them, and I have since forgotten them completely.  Eh, I’ll figure something out. 

Like I said, though, time is a factor, so I must be going.  I’ll be back in full force by Monday. 

One love,

10

Don’t Give Peace A Chance

Recently, I was asked by one of my newer readers to discuss the overuse of the backward peace sign, and how it needs to be pronounced dead.  Despite the fact that I more than dabbled with such a peace sign in my early 20s (and hell, maybe into my mid 20s too), I decided to take on such a request.  However, I’m modifying it just slightly.  I am going to break down why all peace signs should be left for dead.  Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but since none of us are Paul McCartney, we don’t have to worry about those exceptions.

Now I could sit here and talk until I’m blue in the face, but as the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.  Granted, I’m going to throw in a few of my own words, but I think the pictures will mostly speak for themselves.  So submitted for your approval, here are a handful of reasons for you to consider what you should do with your hands before you take a picture, pass someone in traffic, or greet someone from afar:

Okay, as you can clearly see, I’m pulling out all the stops, cutting right to the chase, going straight to the bimbos.  The double peace sign can say many things;  “Look, I’m wearing bracelets AND my wristband from the hospital visit when the had to pump all the Sour Apple Pucker out of my stomach last night” seems to be fitting here.

Really?  Do I even have to say anything here?  I can see why she chose to throw her peace sign with her right hand, as she is showing off her wristband from rehab (which, by the looks of her eyes, she obviously didn’t complete).  Had she used her left hand, then we would have gotten the pleasure of an even more prevalent shot of her ring that appears to be in the shape of an “F”.  Apparently she forgot her matching “M” and “L” rings that night.  I blame it on the alcohol.

Although Chris Brown is showing us two different peace signs here, both of them can be filed under the “I like to beat up my superstar singer girlfriend and kick her out of the car on the side of the road” type of peace signs.  The bow tie in the picture on the right slightly classes up that peace sign, but since it is being delivered at a 45-degree angle, the points were immediately deducted.

Whoops, I don’t know how this pic slipped in here.  I was planning on using this for my “What’s Your IQ?” post.  Or was it for my “How Many Terms Should I NOT Have Been Elected To Presidential Office” post?  No, now I remember.  It was for my “I Read And Speak At A ______ Grade Level” post.

If Miley Cyrus isn’t a poster child for everything people age 18 and older shouldn’t do, then I don’t know who is.  Also on that list: go out in public without touching your hair, and carrying a purse that is nearly double your weight.

And here we have the “I’m going to cheat on my boyfriend and alienate all of our mutual friends in doing as such, therefore leading to the inevitability that I won’t talk to any of them anymore” peace sign.  No, this is not my ex, but the ex of a very close friend.  There’s a 60% chance she’ll see this, and a 100% chance I won’t care.

Before we get too far off topic, I should wrap things up.  As I’ve shown you here today, throwing up peace signs is a sure fire way to deplete your friends list faster than you can say “whoop whoop.”  In summation, the peace sign, ladies and gentlemen, is dead.  Let it go in peace, no pun intended.  For if you cling to it, then you are no better than this guy …

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

One love,

10

The Evil Empire

Game 2 of the Twins-Yankees series was a tough one for me to swallow.  With the Twins up 3-1 in the bottom of the 9th, all they had to do was lean on one of the best closers of the decade to get three outs and then we come back to Minneapolis with the series tied 1-1.  Instead, Joe Nathan got behind in the count to A-Rod with a man on base, left a pitch hanging over the plate which was promptly escorted out of the zip code, and all of a sudden it’s a tie game.

Even more upsetting was Joe Mauer’s lead-off ground rule double in the top of the 11th inning which was incorrectly ruled a foul ball.  He would get on base with a single, but the two base hits behind him would have surely scored him had the right call been made originally.  Instead, he was stranded on base, and the Yankees would score the winning run in the bottom half of the inning.  The umps have officially apologized, but this just gives me yet another reason to hate the Yankees with everything inside of me.  They’re like the rich guy who wins the lottery with a ticket he finds on the street.  They don’t need the lucky/bullshit breaks like this to sway in their favor.  All close calls should be automatically defaulted to the Twins.

In case you actually needed them, here are three reasons why you should be rooting for the Twins and hoping the Yankees all catch herpes from each other and overdose on HGH right before their team plane crashes into Lake Michigan and they all die in a fiery pit of burning hell:

A) The Twins develop talent in their farm league, and actually bring those players up and keep them in their system. They actually win games with them.  The Yankees simply throw a shitload of money at whomever they feel like buying that particular day.  Granted, since Major League Baseball is run by idiots, this isn’t prohibited by any means, but it’s admirable that the Twins are doing it in a way that can be perceived as much more pure than the Yanks, and still making it to the playoffs fairly consistently.

2) The Yankees’ payroll is right around $208.1 million this season, the highest in baseball and a whopping $63 million more than the second highest.  Meanwhile, the Twins’ payroll is $67.6 million, the ninth least in the big leagues, and less than a third of what the Darth Vaders, er, I mean, Yankees are paying.  Just think, what if we could get rid of the Yankees and use that payroll money to have three more Twins teams?  What a world it would be. To put it into further perspective, at $33 million, Alex Rodriguez is making nearly half of the entire Twins roster this year, BY HIMSELF.

D) Jeter, Rodriguez, Damon, Swisher, Cabrera, Teixeira, Cano, Posada, and Matsui … Remind me, how the hell did the Yankees not win 130 games this year? That could be the lineup for a God damn All Star game.  Meanwhile, the Twins are in the playoffs, and got there without Justin Morneau, Joe Crede, Fransisco Liriano (mostly), and Kevin Slowey.  Instead they relied on guys named Blackburn, Tolbert, Span, and Kubel.  I’ll say this, and then I’ll let it rest: The Twins coaching staff could win 115 games every year with the amount of talent the Yankees have on their roster.

In other news, news that doesn’t make me want to fly to New York and kill 25 people,  the weather up here has officially cooled off.  Just over two weeks ago I was wearing shorts, and now the temperature is hanging around in the 30s and 40s everyday.  I’m not upset about it, because it’s an inevitability and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Rather, I’m disappointed that we kind of skipped a step.  We went straight from 80 degrees to 30 in the blink of an eye.  We never got to enjoy that “keep the windows open all day, enjoy the leaves changing colors, you can wear shorts during the day but need to put a sweatshirt on at night when it cools off” kind of phase.  I love that phase, it might be one of my favorites of the year.  Instead, I went from running the air conditioner all day to closing up all the windows and keeping a blanket nearby.  The leaves never changed colors, they all just died and fell off the trees.  We’re long past shorts weather and into full-blown jacket weather.  It has even managed to snow a few times over this weekend, even though it was just a few instances of light flakes and none of it accumulated.  Quite sad, really.

Since I am currently balls deep in the NFL and the President’s Cup, I’m gonna cut this one off here.  I have received a viewer’s choice request for a post that I’ll start working on either tomorrow or Tuesday (yes, I do take requests), so until then, enjoy whatever is left of your weekend.

One love,

10

There’s No Place Like Dome

I’ve been a Twins fan for as long as I can remember.  I’ve been blessed to have been able to be in attendance for at least one game every season since 1991, with the exception of a couple summers ago when I was  working 70 hours a week for the entire summer.  I was at game seven of the 1991 World Series to watch the Twins beat the Braves with a walk-off single in the bottom of the 1oth inning.  I’ve seen Kirby Puckett hit homeruns, I’ve seen Torii Hunter rob homeruns. I’ve seen Jack Morris pitch ten nearly perfect innings to earn a complete game shutout, I’ve seen Johan Santana strike out double digits in a single outing. I saw Francisco Liriano make his first start in a Twins uniform, and I shook Torii Hunter’s hand in his last season in a Twins uniform.

All of these memories and so many more come from the Metrodome, so needless to say, I’m sad to see that it will no longer be the home of the Twins. With that being said, I was understandably excited to be heading to Minneapolis to be in attendance of the last scheduled regular season Twins game in the Metrodome.  Yeah, this was a big deal for me, especially considering the ramifications of the game.  The Twins, after being three games back in the AL Central with only four games to play, would clinch the title with a win and a Tigers loss.  Well the Twins held up their end of the deal, but the damn Tigers just wouldn’t roll over and die, so for the second season in a row, a one game playoff was needed to decide the winner of the AL Central.  But, I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let’s rewind a little to Sunday’s game against the Royals.

Jess, being the forward thinker she is, secured tickets to this game way back in April, so she was able to score amazing seats without paying a thousand bucks like I’m sure some people did.  We were on the third base line, seven rows above the Twins dugout.  Yeah, I could have sneezed on Michael Cuddyer were I so inclined.  That’s how close we were.  The game was electric.  51, 155 people were in attendance to watch the Twins beat down the Royals 13-4 on the legs of Jason Kubel’s two homeruns and a well-pitched game by Carl Pavano.  I could sit here and talk about the game in detail for an hour, but I suspect that none of the little things that made the game for me would translate into what can be considered interesting to anyone else.

After the game, the Dome was honored with a ceremony in which a season-long countdown of the top 100 moments in Metrodome history was concluded by showing the top ten.  Also, some of the greatest Twins to have ever played in the Dome were introduced during the ceremony, and it was all capped off with the naming of the All Metrodome team.  It was pretty emotional, especially thanks to the win the Twins had just notched, thereby prolonging their season at least one more game.  Eyewitness reports may state that I got a little choked up during the ceremony, and some may even say that I welled up with tears … twice.  However, I can neither confirm or deny those allegations.

Okay fine, I got teary-eyed. Okay fine, it was twice.  I can’t help it.  You can’t expect me to keep it together when they start talking about Kirby Puckett like that.  He was a big focal point in the top ten Metrodome moments countdown (including having two moments in the top five), and he was of course inducted into the All Metrodome team, which was followed by a long moment of silence to honor him, and then a standing ovation that seemed to last a good three minutes, and then the introduction of his son, Kirby Jr.  I mean, how am I supposed to keep it together with all of that stuff?! What am I, a robot?!?! If Hammen can cry in the middle of downtown Lawrence after KU wins the title, then I am allowed to choke back tears when Kirby Puckett Jr. is introduced as “the son of the greatest Twins player to have ever lived.”  Seriously, it was really something else.

Anyway, despite the fact that we technically weren’t in attendance for the last game in the Metrodome, I’m glad it ended up that way.  Had we been there for the last game, it would mean that the Twins would have lost, and not moved on to beat the Tigers last night in 12 nail-biting innings to advance to the playoffs.  Just more Metrodome magic if you ask me.

Now they need to make something of this postseason berth.  Seriously, I’m beginning to get scared that if the Twins can’t give Joe Mauer a World Series ring soon, he is going to leave for greener pastures.  Then we’ll start doing desperate things like calling and hanging up at night, driving by his house, adding him to Facebook four times a day despite his constant declining, and asking everyone if he misses us.  Then he’ll counter by telling us, Beyonce style, that if we liked it then we shoulda put a ring on it.  We don’t want that.  Let’s face it, he would just look strange in a unitard and high heels. 

Yeah, that’s just creepy.

One love,

10

Back To Sanity, Sort Of

I’ve been playing a little catch-up lately with some important things.  No, not work, I said important things.  This past spring, I missed an episode of The Office since NBC felt it was more important to broadcast local emergency flood updates all night instead.  I called into question their priorities, but be that as it may, I didn’t get a chance to finish the season because of that.  And don’t even tell me I should have watched it online, because I have discovered I do NOT like watching television shows online.  I didn’t buy a 46″ LCD and a comfy recliner to hunch over in my computer chair and squint at a 19″ screen for my favorite shows.  It just doesn’t make sense to me. 

Knowing that, I was understandably excited when the season was released on DVD.  I have since purchased said season and I am caught up completely, minus last week’s episode, which is patiently waiting for me on my DVR and will be watched tonight. 

After that I’ll set my sights on season four of How I Met Your Mother, which I also purchased and plan to knock out in record time beginning tomorrow.  Upon completion, I feel like my life will be back in harmony again.  I felt like I was missing out by not keeping up with those two shows especially, since I have a number of friends who watch both and  I was basically precluding myself from 80% of conversations held the day after each show aired.  Nevertheless, I’m back in the game and I’m loving every minute of it. 

Looking ahead, I’ll be heading out of town for the weekend to catch the final Minnesota Twins game that will ever be played in the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome.  Not even going to lie, I may cry.  I’ve been sore about the new ballpark ever since I heard about it, since the dome is so near and dear to my heart, and I see it fitting that I will be in attendance for such a game.  Now I just have to hope for my dream scenario in which the AL Central title is completely dependent on the Twins winning that game, and they win in the bottom of the 23rd inning on a Joe Mauer inside-the-park homerun, after which he signs the ball, rubs his sideburns on it, and gives it to me.  Okay, not ALL of that has to happen, but if they don’t win the final game in the Dome, I am going to lose my shit.  Not only will that break my heart Metrodome-wise, but then all I’ll have to look forward to is a baseball team playing all of their home games in a stadium with no roof.  In Minnesota.  In April, May, September, and October.  Yeah, that’ll be real pleasant.  I can’t wait to drive five hours to Minneapolis for a Twins game one weekend only to have it rained out or be 40 degrees and foggy.  Truth be told, I was going to honor the Dome with a rundown of my favorite Twins moments in the glorious stadium, but I just got choked up and depressed thinking about it, so I decided against it. 

I need to stop talking about it, I’m getting a little verklempt.  Talk amongst yourselves … I’ll give you a topic.  Rhode Island is neither a road, nor an island.  Discuss. 

Okay I’m better again.  Moving on to plans further up the month.  I’ll be spending my off time packing up my things and gradually moving in with Jess while prepping my apartment to get my deposit back.  I hate moving more than possibly anything else in the free world, so to say that I’m not looking forward to it would be an understatement.  Despite that, it will be nice to no longer fork over millions of dollars every month for rent, so things could be worse. 

And straight out of the “Downright Depressing” file, comes this update: summer is officially over in my neck of the woods.  It was gorgeous last week, in the mid 70s, sunny, and just all-around pleasant.  This came to an abrupt end Sunday when temps dropped faster than Lindsay Lohan’s panties at a Playboy mansion party.  Since then, it has remained cool during the day, and has gotten downright chilly at night, dipping into the 40s more than once.  I guess it’s just a matter of time before we’re graced with snow again, but I’m really hoping to finish moving before anything big hits.  That’s probably wishful thinking, though.  I’m usually not that lucky when it comes to the weather.  Actually, when I think about it, I’m usually not lucky when it comes to anything, so I’ve come to accept it. 

If I don’t make it back by Saturday, I hope everyone has a good weekend, and send your positive thoughts in my general direction regarding the Twins winning the AL Central.  Seriously, I don’t want to cry at the Dome. 

One love,

10

“Hmmm … Sure, That And A Pair Of Testicles”

“What makes a man, Mr. Lebowski?  Is it being prepared to do the right thing, whatever the cost? Isn’t that what makes a man?”

For those who are unfamiliar, that line is a question posed to The Dude in The Big Lebowski. The answer he gives has been used as the title for this post.  And a fitting title it is.  Sometimes, it takes a big man to make the decisions he knows are right, despite what those decisions mean  in the way of practicality and normalcy.

That being said, I had to really man up and make a big decision lately about my life.  A decision that I know is the one that will work out best for the future, even if it isn’t ideal for the present.  A decision I don’t know that many men in my position could make.  But before I tell you what that decision is, a little background info is in order.

When I was 19 years old, I moved out of my parents’ house.  I moved into a huge apartment with a handful of friends, and we had the time of our lives.  I set out and determined myself to live off of my very own money, which I made working at my very own job.  I prided myself on not having to ask Mommy and Daddy for money, and I told myself that I was building character and being independent as an adult.  Ever since then, I haven’t asked for a dime from anyone.  And I’m proud as hell to say that.  I worked my ass off, sometimes at two jobs, in order to keep myself living in the real world, keep myself in school, and cement my independence and my adulthood. I moved from apartment to apartment, each of which got more expensive than the last, but I always made sure I didn’t over-extend myself.

Sure, I’ve hit rough patches along the way, but that happens to everyone.  I’ve always bounced back stronger than before.  Up until a little over a year ago, I’ve always had a roommate.  Last summer, I decided that I wanted to give the whole “living alone” thing a shot, and I went for it.  Sure, it was nearly twice as expensive, but I worked harder and longer to make it work.  The bills came in, and they got paid on time.  Granted, I wasn’t saving as much as I would have liked, but I hadn’t succumbed to eating ramen noodles three meals a day either.  Back in July, my rent went up about 18% – which is fucking absurd by the way – and even though I was still making it work, I didn’t like it. Now that I am in the process of looking for a house to buy, I am realizing just how expensive it’s going to be.  I ran the numbers, and I don’t think there is a way in hell I’d be able to save up to afford it considering the amount I’m spending on my apartment.

So I started looking at other options.  Maybe I could move into another apartment.  It’s a college town, so there are a ton of places to live.  Granted, they are either total shit holes or wildly overpriced, so I’d either be living between a crack dealer and a crazy cat lady, or I’d still be hemorrhaging money like crazy.  Maybe I could get a roommate.  Seems to me that all the people I’d want to live with are comfortable where they are.  Plus, I’d still be spending a fair amount to live in a moderate place in which I wouldn’t have to fist fight cockroaches for my grilled cheese sandwiches.  Maybe I could (gulp) move back in with my parents.  Well, my Mom’s place doesn’t have a lot of extra room, and my sister took over my room at my Dad’s house long ago when I first moved out.  So that’s out.  Then came an offer extended, almost as if it were facetious in nature.

“You could always live here!” Those were the words spoken by Jess’ mom not more than two weeks ago.  I laughed.  But once the laughter settled, the thought continued to resonate.  The more I thought about it, the more it started to make sense. My thoughts swirled;

Well, they DO have a lot of room in their house.  And I WOULD be saving a big chunk of money each month.  Jess has lived there since she moved back to town, so I’d get to hang with her more often.  Plus, their schedules are almost the exact opposite of mine, so I’d basically have the place to myself all day while they’re at work.

And so we come to my big decision.  On Thursday night, I told Jess to pass along to her parents that I wouldn’t mind taking them up on their offer.  And Friday, it became settled.  Next month, I will be moving out of my one bedroom apartment and moving in with my girlfriend and her parents.  The move is based purely on the fact that I’ll be able to save for a down payment on a house exponentially faster than if I were to keep renting at my overpriced apartment.

I don’t really know what to expect from this journey I’m about to embark on, but I think I’ll be fine as long as I limit my number of Ben Stiller moments* and respect the rules of the house.  You can believe there will be more to come from this story as it develops.  To all my close friends, I’m sorry you’re hearing about this for the first time on my blog.  I did it this way because I didn’t feel like making any phone calls, and I figure this will give you all a chance to mock me behind my back before you see me, ya know, to get it out of your systems.  Oh who am I kidding?  Knowing my friends, they’ll have plenty of material left for me.  At least when they do make fun of me, I can run home and cry to Jess’ mom and ask her to make me cookies.  Worth it.

One love,

10

*The phrase ‘Ben Stiller moments’ is derived from any of his movies in which everything seems to go wrong for him, to the point where it becomes totally irrational and unlikely.  This includes, but is not limited to: Meet The Parents, Meet The Fockers, Along Came Polly, A Night at the Museum, Duplex, Envy, There’s Something About Mary, and The Heartbreak Kid.

Everyday Struggle

Yeah, I’m shitty at blogging.  I know.  In my defense, I have actually been pretty busy lately.  In addition to working more than normal lately, and the fact that I’m trying to take advantage of the tail end of summer, Jess and I have started shopping for the biggest purchase of our lives: a house. Despite having my mother for a real estate agent (and she’s a fantastic one, too), the whole process is, well, it’s quite a process.  It has occupied a lot of my free time lately, which is a trade off I’m happy to make considering how important a decision it is.

Nevertheless, since it has been so long since I’ve shared my useless and meaningless thoughts with you all, I’ve missed a lot of potential blog posts.  The beginning of the college football and the NFL seasons, the Twins chasing the Tigers for the AL Central title, Kanye at the VMAs, the PGA playoffs, the day I was stuck in Fargo with a work truck because the key broke when I tried to unlock the door, the bet made between JK and I in which if the Vikings make it to the SuperBowl, I have to buy a Favre jersey and wear it everyday for a week straight and take pictures with the daily newspapers to prove it, and if they don’t he has to take a cell phone video of himself crying, send it to me, and I will upload it to this very blog, the Vegas trip that was, and then wasn’t, and then was, and then wasn’t again, my run in with the guy who came to fix my bathroom vent, and so much more.

Not only have I missed a lot of chances to write, but I’ve completely neglected reading all of the other blogs I normally read daily (sorry Hammen, Beach, Bigsby, Kos).  I’m not happy about it, but like I said, I’ve been keeping busy.  It’s not like I’m sitting on my couch everyday with just a t-shirt on, elbows deep in Cheez-Its, watching reruns of “The Flavor of Love” or something.  But on that note, since I am in the market for a house, I have been watching a lot of HGTV lately (no homo).  It’s not as lame as I always imagined.  I always pictured dainty little shows about people planting flowers in biodegradable pots and sewing window drapes by hand.  Turns out, it’s actually a pretty informative channel with a lot of decent shows, especially geared toward anyone interested in buying, selling, or renovating a home. Don’t worry, I still watch shows where people tear houses apart with heavy machinery and plenty of football too, so I keep a good balance.

What has been a little flattering though, is that over the past couple weeks I’ve gotten no less than a dozen texts, Facebook messages, BBMs, and face-to-face confrontations asking me what my deal is lately and why I haven’t indulged you with any of my nonsense.  So thanks for the continued interest.  That actually makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Anyway, back to the house stuff.  The timing is almost as right as it can be.  The market in the area is geared towards first time buyers as there are a lot of affordable homes available, interest rates are nice and low, my rent skyrocketed back in July, and there’s that whole $8,000 tax credit from Uncle Sam to entice buyers.  All that’s left is for Jess and I to save up for a little bit (potentially more on that next time) so we can get the house that’s right for us, and to find it.  We’ve seen probably ten houses over the past  couple weeks, and the only one that caught our eye enough to possibly put in an offer has already sold, so we’re back to the drawing board.  I’ve said it a hundred times already, and I’ll probably say it a hundred more, thank God my mother is a realtor, because I’d be so lost without her in this whole process.  I’ll keep you plenty updated on this whole process, and I am committed in trying to be more consistent with my blogging habits.  For now, it’s time for me to head to work.  Turns out, the bacon doesn’t bring itself home.

One love,

10

I Will Smash Your Face Into A Car Windshield …

I’m not a violent man by any means.  I haven’t been in a fight since I was in fifth grade, and even then it was just kid stuff.  I haven’t thrown anything against a wall in years (I suppose it’s worth mentioning, though, that between GameDay ‘98 and NBA Live 2000, I went through approzimately four TV remotes, two cordless phones, and no less than a baker’s dozen Playstation controllers over the course of a few years, but hey, that’s what happened when I got screwed out of a win). 

But even though I am quite passive and non-confrontational, there are some people I simply cannot stand.  Some people who, when I see or hear about them, make my skin crawl.  Some people who I would love to smack the everloving piss out of.  These are those people.

- Jimmy Fallon.  I have never, ever, ever liked him.  He was a horrid on SNL.  Hey NBC, here’s a hint, since it’s a live show, maybe you should hire people who can actually make it through a scene without laughing and blowing all of their lines.  Maybe you should hire people who can actually act, and who have range, and who aren’t the same character for every skit.  As if it wasn’t bad enough with him on TV once a week, now he’s got his own late night show.  How does this even happen?  It’s like the studio heads got together and said, “Sure, you can have your own show, guy who single-handedly murdered every SNL skit you were ever in.  That would be fantastic.  We’d love for you to be on camera for extended periods of time.  We realize that while you were on SNL, you couldn’t do a single thing without looking directly at the camera and breaking out into laughter, but hey, all we’re going to do is sit you at a desk and let you do whatever you want, so how bad can it be?”   I’ve watched his late night show a few times, and each time I’ve watched, he has managed to be as equally dull as I remembered him to be on SNL.  And yes, there was one point in one of his shows in which he was sitting at his desk laughing about nothing for a solid 20 seconds.  Painful.  I’d rather watch that Rosetta Stone commercial for the four millionth time than see Fallon’s stupid mug for one second.   

- Spencer Pratt.  Yes, I admit it, I watch “The Hills.”  I’m a little behind on the most recent season, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Spencer Pratt might be the biggest douche bag on the face of the planet.  Never in my life have I seen such an egocentric, arrogant, pretentious jackass with a more undeserved sense of accomplishment and self-worth.  In short, if I ever saw him in real life, I would back-handed pimp slap him as hard as I possibly can, kick him while he’s down, spit on him, and let the air out of his tires.  And the fact that I don’t hit women is the only thing keeping me from hauling off on his wife, Heidi Montag, too.  Oh and by the way, a Wikipedia search for Spencer Pratt brings you to a page briefly describing him, and under occupation, it says “Reality television personality and part time rapper.”  Pinch me, that can’t be right.  I have to be dreaming.  I am going to dedicate my week to finding something on the internet that contains him rapping, and if found, it will be posted here immediately. 

- Jon Gosselin.  Hey, Jonny boy, I have a secret for you.  You’re not a celebrity.  You’re just some idiot whose wife had twins and then sextuplets.  That’s it.  That’s all you’ve ever done.  You fathered children with the help of fertility drugs.  Congratulations, you have the abilities of almost every other adult male in the world.  Now, maybe you should have realized this before you betrayed your wife and left her to raise your eight children on her own.  Good for you.  Apparently getting drunk and picking up a school teacher at a bar was more important to you than being a responsible father and husband.  I’m really going to laugh when I see you in the new season of The Surreal Life on VH1 sitting in between Carrot Top and the kid who played Goldberg the Goalie in The Mighty Ducks.  Then maybe you’ll realize the cold, hard truth: that you’re a nobody and you should have been a better person. 

- Jim Rome.  I think I’ve voiced my dislike for Jim Rome before on this forum, but I can’t stress enough how much I loathe him.  It’s tough to explain, especially to people who aren’t particularly familiar with him, but let me put it to you like this: He is the exact opposite of everything I would ever want to get sports news from.  I hesitate to even categorize what he does under sports news.  What he does is sit in a chair and talk shit about people in sports for a half hour everyday.  What demographic is this satisfying?  Is there a yearning for a show in which a self-centered moron abrasively mocks and demeans people on the air?  Did ESPN really give a show to a guy who frequently hangs up on viewers calling in to ask questions and give opinions?  Rome is your classic meat head when it comes to sports arguments.  If he can’t defend his stance with logical, reasonable arguments, he will succumb to insulting anyone within an arm’s reach just to take the focus off the fact that he is a goon. 

Of the aforementioned douche bags, I think Rome is the only one I would have trouble punching out.  He seems like the kinda guy who wears a lot of bulgy rings and he’d probably get a cheap shot in.  I just wish Jim Everett would have had the chance to beat the crap out of him back in the 90s when Rome kept calling him Chris Everett (after the female tennis player).  For those who haven’t seen it, Everett basically attacks Rome with the cameras rolling, and because I’m such a nice guy, I pulled up the video on YouTube for you.  Enjoy. 

One love,

10

Breaking Sports News

So, Brett Favre is going to play football in the NFL this season.  Have you seen this?  Have you heard about this?  Of course you have, unless of course you don’t own a TV or radio, and haven’t picked up a newspaper in the last few days. Yes, the title of this post was sarcastic.  Just when we thought he was out, he pulled himself back in.  Before we get into things too deeply, a quick review is in order.  I am not a Vikings fan, and I am not a Favre fan.  I’m quite indifferent about both, even though I root against the Vikings to spite my friends.  With that in mind, you can expect me to look at this objectively.  That’s not to say I don’t have strong opinions about it, but they weren’t influenced by any outside factors.  Okay, let’s begin.

I was really hoping we had heard the last of this nonsense when Favre announced that he intended to stay retired, but it turns out that he’s like a turd that won’t flush.  We should have seen this coming.  We should have known that Favre just didn’t want to attend training camp because he’s old and rickety.  Look Brett, I know training camp is a drag, but it’s part of being on the team.  No one wants to go to training camp, but holding out like you did basically tells us that you think you’re above the team.  Don’t even pretend like you weren’t planning this from the start either.  It’s a horrendously egocentric mindset.

As for performance, it seems like most of the area I live in believes that Favre is the answer to all the Vikings’ problems.  I really disagree.  Sure, he was a special player in his day, and he is no doubt a hall of famer.  He holds some of the most prestigious records for quarterbacks in football history and he has done things that may never be done again.  Having that been said, he’s done playing at a high level.  Recent injuries, a highly publicized surgery a couple months ago, and the fact that he’s almost old enough to be Adrian Peterson’s father all add up to one lingering fact: Brett Favre is just not good anymore.  The term “washed up” comes to mind, but seems a bit harsh for now.

If you’re a Vikings fan, I really hope you manage your expectations about this.  I’m looking at you, Jordan.  Did the Vikings get better at the quarterback position by signing Favre?  Absolutely.  But that’s not saying much.  Is this the answer for the Vikes?  I don’t think so.  Turnovers have been a big issue lately for them, and Brett has struggled with interceptions in the second half of his career, including last year, when he threw 22.  If you’re going to counter with the argument that all he has to do is manage the game and hand off to Adrian Peterson, then bite your tongue, because Peterson led the league in fumbles last season with nine.

Yes, the Vikings won ten games last season with inferior quarterbacking, but it was ten wins in a weak division.  Even if they do make a playoff appearance with Favre this season, I wouldn’t expect them to make a run.  By then Favre’s 40 year old body will be worn down and beat up, and everyone will be wondering why in the hell he got signed for two years at $25 million.  Yes, you read that right.  A 40 year old man just got a contract for two years at $25 million.  He gets $12 million this season, and $13 million next season.  So that will average out to be about a million bucks per touchdown he throws.  Congrats Brett Favre, you have just bent the Vikings over for the thousandth time in your career.

One love,

10