*** note to reader: my internet pooped out as i went to publish this and i lost at least half of what was written. i'm not saying that you're missing much, but know that there was more, and i was too pissed to re-think and type it out again. i was also too lazy to edit for mistakes, so you're going to have to put up with that as well. enjoy.
had i not missed the first half hour, this could have just as easily been a the quick and the dead running diary. i love westerns, especially ones that are terrible.
i suppose all people are naturally afraid of what they don't know. it's human nature. if you're anything like me, the only civilized thing to do in these situations is to mock that which you don't know. in that spirit, it's time to mock the things that other people find enjoyable in order to elevate my own sense of self-esteem.
STAR WARS
don't get me wrong, i love STAR WARS. i've seen the trilogy a hundred times and may or may not still have fantasies about wielding a lightsaber. but what's the deal with boba fett? why do adults get dressed up like chewbacca and hang out at conventions in cheap hotel lobbies? note to anybody reading: you can like something without getting completely obsessed about it. this happens with all things sci-fi: star trek, battlestar galactica, stargate sg-1, x-files, babylon 5, firefly, LOST (yeah, i went there). give me bret michaels giving some stripper an STD any day, or "seven strangers... finding out what happens when people stop being polite, and start being real!" better yet, let's all agree to take a walk around the neighborhood after dinner and actually have some interaction with actual people.
NASCAR
i always hear that NASCAR is the most popular sport in america. really? never mind that driving around in a circle hardly meets the definition of "sport;" (is that a proper use of a semicolon?) when one gets into NASCAR, does he cheer for the car or the driver? the car is the one doing all the work, so why would i pledge allegiance to some guy who pushes a gas peddle and holds a wheel? it all makes very little sense to me. other "sports" i can't support are: hockey, soccer, boxing/mixed martial arts, tennis, golf, and women's sports.
COMIC BOOKS
somewhere in my parents attic, tucked between boxes of baseball cards were supposed to pay for my first house, a collection of GIJOE action figures and buckets of LEGOS, is a box full of iron man, the incredible hulk, fantastic four, x-men, spiderman, and batman comics. i used to buy them to look at the pictures; (again, semicolon?) reading the dialog bubbles was too difficult for my young mind to comprehend. somewhere in junior high i lost interest and figured that my peers would do the same. wrong. they just changed the name to "graphic novel" and dug in deeper.
BIKES
i know i'm going to get some heat on this one (insulting my one loyal reader may not be in my best interest), but i just don't get the whole bike thing. a bicycle is a perfectly reasonable mode of transportation, but why do people feel the need to recreate their identity based on their chosen mode of transportation? those silly little hats with the bill flipped up? walking around with one pant leg rolled up so that everyone in the bar knows you rode your bike here? congratulations, you saved some gas and reduced your carbon footprint. i'm emptying my checking account and buying a horse. now there's a mode of transportation that a man can take pride in. when you see me at the northside tavern, standing against the wall in my boots, chaps, and stetson, you'll think twice about bragging about your bike. and if you have a problem with that, i've got a six-shooter on each side of my belt and we can settle this like men (i'm sorry, this movie's getting to me. i just spent the last 10 minutes on ebay searching for a gun belt with two holsters).
DESSERT
i like ice cream. i like cookies dipped in milk. apple pie also makes me happy. but if i'm going to stuff my face with empty calories, then bring on the cheese. i'll take nachos over a piece of cake any day. chocolate just doesn't do it for me, and i've never understood the sentiment that chocolate is "to die for" or "heavenly sinful." it's pretty ok, but nowhere near the pleasure that comes from deep-fried pretty much anything.
BRETT FAVRE
forget it. let's just move on.
CATS
cats are the worst. they are rude, unpredictable, not fun and stupid. why would anybody choose to let a multitude of these beasts infest their home? the one thing worse than cats themselves - the countless number of pictures of cats with stupid captions on the internet. can i get a google filter that blocks any cat-related images from appearing in my browser? cats have literally no value. if a cat would bring back a ball when i throw it, or bark when a stranger comes to my door, then maybe i'd consider rescinding my hatred. we all know that's not going to happen though, because cats are just going to continue sitting there and plotting how to make our lives miserable. dogs are vastly superior to cats in ever way.
IN CONCLUSION,
i've heard it said that one must face their fears head on in order to overcome them. that sounds like a terrible idea. the only possible result of such action can be viciously frightening things like: intellectual enlightenment, broadening of horizons, and increased compassion and tolerance for others different than yourself. no thanks - i'll hold on to my stereotypes and irrational fears.
the next time the evil mayor played by gene hackman says to you, "you're not fast enough..." you just look him in the eyes and say, "i am today" just like sharon stone did. and then shoot.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
crystal balls
i can't let the football season begin (it already began?) without publishing my division winners picks. kevin posted a full preview because kevin is not married and does not have a life. if you want to be entertained and spend more than 3 minutes looking at how one man believes the NFL will unfold this year, read this. unfortunately, i don't have the ability to write such a comprehensive assessment. i could blame this inability on lack of time, but that would be untrue. i think "other priorities" is more accurate (whatever that means).
winners:
AFC
new england
pittsburgh
tennessee
san diego
NFC
philadelphia
green bay
carolina (that's right)
seattle
since i'm feeling so nostradamus-y, i'll throw some more predictions your way:
1. i will drink a keg's worth of pumpkin beer in the next few months. had the first one of the season last week and am feeling up to the task of trying every variety i can get my fingers on.
2. heidi will run more miles than me over the remainder of the year. currently, (if we are starting today) she is up in miles 10 - 3. if i break her legs then i can catch her. but if i break her legs there might be other repercussions and consequences i am not prepared to deal with.
3. i will regret at least half of those NFL picks. the carolina pick especially will leave me doubting my own intelligence and sexuality.
4. the st. louis cardinals and new york yankees will meet in the world series. i used to believe in the dodgers, but have abandoned that pick faster than my dog calvin can tear the cover off a tennis ball (really fast). st. louis will win because God can't be bought. and since God can't be bought, he will punish the yankees for thinking they could buy a championship. i picture alex rodriquez being torn apart limb from limb by a hungry pack of alley cats on the field.
5. heidi and i will know what the heck we are going to do with our life before the end of '09. should we stay or should we go? if we go, to where will it be?
that's all. for further reading, may i suggest you go back and read my "idioms" post from last week? and yes, kevin, i came up with those on my own. i have a piece of scratch paper with those and more scribbled on it. i spent at least 2 hours coming up with that list and am insulted that you question my intelligence and integrity.
winners:
AFC
new england
pittsburgh
tennessee
san diego
NFC
philadelphia
green bay
carolina (that's right)
seattle
since i'm feeling so nostradamus-y, i'll throw some more predictions your way:
1. i will drink a keg's worth of pumpkin beer in the next few months. had the first one of the season last week and am feeling up to the task of trying every variety i can get my fingers on.
2. heidi will run more miles than me over the remainder of the year. currently, (if we are starting today) she is up in miles 10 - 3. if i break her legs then i can catch her. but if i break her legs there might be other repercussions and consequences i am not prepared to deal with.
3. i will regret at least half of those NFL picks. the carolina pick especially will leave me doubting my own intelligence and sexuality.
4. the st. louis cardinals and new york yankees will meet in the world series. i used to believe in the dodgers, but have abandoned that pick faster than my dog calvin can tear the cover off a tennis ball (really fast). st. louis will win because God can't be bought. and since God can't be bought, he will punish the yankees for thinking they could buy a championship. i picture alex rodriquez being torn apart limb from limb by a hungry pack of alley cats on the field.
5. heidi and i will know what the heck we are going to do with our life before the end of '09. should we stay or should we go? if we go, to where will it be?
that's all. for further reading, may i suggest you go back and read my "idioms" post from last week? and yes, kevin, i came up with those on my own. i have a piece of scratch paper with those and more scribbled on it. i spent at least 2 hours coming up with that list and am insulted that you question my intelligence and integrity.
Monday, September 7, 2009
the cat's out of the bag!
it's labor day, and with absolutely nothing to do today, i will toil away to bring you a long overdue blog.
i love idioms. a picture is worth a thousand words, but i can't draw, so i'll stick with the thousand words to present you with some of my favorites
"tall drink of water"
i get this one all the time, and to be quite honest i kinda like it. if someone is fat, are they a "a huge bite of pizza?"
"barking up the wrong tree"
my dog barks all the time, but never up trees. i guess that means he is on point and i shouldn't tell him to stop.
"what's good for the goose is good for the gander"
"what the hell is a gander anyway?" "it's a goose that's had the old switcheroo pulled on her."
"have your cake and eat it too"
it's not too much to ask to be able to eat a piece of cake if one has been offered to you. possession of cake is fine, but rather pointless and un-fulfilling if not consumed.
"actions speak louder than words"
i disagree. words are spoken, not actions. therefore, actions are inaudible, and thus cannot be louder than words, which are, of course, heard.
"an accident waiting to happen"
shawne merriman strangled tila tequila the other night. now that was an accident waiting to happen. except that it most likely wasn't an accident. so more accurately, that would be "a domestic violence waiting to happen."
"six in one, half dozen in the other"
that's one dozen according to my calculations. if i have twelve of anything in my hands, then i am pretty content. unless it's a dozen steaming piles of poop.
"when life gives you lemons, make lemonade"
of course, if you have two hand-fulls of poop in your possession, you might as well throw them at your friends for a good laugh.
"kill two birds with one stone"
i once killed a bird with my bb gun. i felt pretty bad about it. had i killed two birds with that one shot, i would have been amazed.
"a bird in hand is better than two in the bush"
not if you're the dead bird. i wonder if birds have idioms that they share with one another: "when berries give you diarrhea, crap on somebody's head."
"a little bird told me"
i don't trust anybody who gets their information from birds, or any other animal. the only talking bird i trust is Big Bird, and he wasn't little.
"if you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs"
the current cincinnati reds' season is a lot of broken eggs, but no omelet in sight.
all's well that ends well... except not.
"don't put all your eggs in one basket"
what is it with idioms about fowl and their offspring? better advice would be: don't put eggs in your jeans' pockets and ride a bike.
"don't count your chickens before they hatch"
again with the reproductive habits of fowl. it's enough already.
"a watched pot never boils"
untrue: i just watched a pot of water boil in order to cook my macaroni & cheese. (we call that research, and i'm willing to put in the extra work to provide a quality product).
"two peas in a pod"
anthony bourdain just compared a dish that he was eating to "having sex with twins." "identical twins in a uterus" would convey similarity better than "two peas in a pod."
"beggars can't be choosers"
can choosers be beggars? if so, that's unfair.
"a day late and a dollar short"
one day and one dollar? i feel like we can work something out here. are you really going to "bust my chops" over something so minor?
"an apple a day keeps the doctor away"
if an apple is "just what the doctor ordered," and the result is good health and less-frequent visits from patients, perhaps the doctor should consider another order that is more financially advantageous.
"cool as a cucumber"
if this refers to temperature, then there are several items that are cooler than a cucumber. if the reference is to personality, "cool as jay z" would be appropriate (speaking of HOV, the news of his album release being moved up to tomorrow has me feeling "like a kid in the candy store." "dollars for donuts" it will be great.
"an ax to grind"
you can only grind an ax for so long before it's time to just "bury the hatchet."
"cat got your tongue?"
apparently there are many cats getting many tongues in the world of baseball. taking steroids not only shrinks your balls and expands your cranium, but also has adverse effect on the tongue. (allowing the cat to get your tongue is an attempt to circumvent "eating crow" or having "egg on your face," rather than "taking the bull by the horns").
"best of both worlds"
is this the experience of having your cake and eating it too?
"bring home the bacon"
my mother-in-law brings home bacon all the time. she works for a bacon company.
"colder than a witches' tit"
that's just funny.
"go fly a kite"
and if you tie a key to that kite and fly it in a lightening storm, you just might discover electricity.
"beating a dead horse"
as in, "justin, this blog is beating a dead horse. take a hike!"
i love idioms. a picture is worth a thousand words, but i can't draw, so i'll stick with the thousand words to present you with some of my favorites
"tall drink of water"
i get this one all the time, and to be quite honest i kinda like it. if someone is fat, are they a "a huge bite of pizza?"
"barking up the wrong tree"
my dog barks all the time, but never up trees. i guess that means he is on point and i shouldn't tell him to stop.
"what's good for the goose is good for the gander"
"what the hell is a gander anyway?" "it's a goose that's had the old switcheroo pulled on her."
"have your cake and eat it too"
it's not too much to ask to be able to eat a piece of cake if one has been offered to you. possession of cake is fine, but rather pointless and un-fulfilling if not consumed.
"actions speak louder than words"
i disagree. words are spoken, not actions. therefore, actions are inaudible, and thus cannot be louder than words, which are, of course, heard.
"an accident waiting to happen"
shawne merriman strangled tila tequila the other night. now that was an accident waiting to happen. except that it most likely wasn't an accident. so more accurately, that would be "a domestic violence waiting to happen."
"six in one, half dozen in the other"
that's one dozen according to my calculations. if i have twelve of anything in my hands, then i am pretty content. unless it's a dozen steaming piles of poop.
"when life gives you lemons, make lemonade"
of course, if you have two hand-fulls of poop in your possession, you might as well throw them at your friends for a good laugh.
"kill two birds with one stone"
i once killed a bird with my bb gun. i felt pretty bad about it. had i killed two birds with that one shot, i would have been amazed.
"a bird in hand is better than two in the bush"
not if you're the dead bird. i wonder if birds have idioms that they share with one another: "when berries give you diarrhea, crap on somebody's head."
"a little bird told me"
i don't trust anybody who gets their information from birds, or any other animal. the only talking bird i trust is Big Bird, and he wasn't little.
"if you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs"
the current cincinnati reds' season is a lot of broken eggs, but no omelet in sight.
all's well that ends well... except not.
"don't put all your eggs in one basket"
what is it with idioms about fowl and their offspring? better advice would be: don't put eggs in your jeans' pockets and ride a bike.
"don't count your chickens before they hatch"
again with the reproductive habits of fowl. it's enough already.
"a watched pot never boils"
untrue: i just watched a pot of water boil in order to cook my macaroni & cheese. (we call that research, and i'm willing to put in the extra work to provide a quality product).
"two peas in a pod"
anthony bourdain just compared a dish that he was eating to "having sex with twins." "identical twins in a uterus" would convey similarity better than "two peas in a pod."
"beggars can't be choosers"
can choosers be beggars? if so, that's unfair.
"a day late and a dollar short"
one day and one dollar? i feel like we can work something out here. are you really going to "bust my chops" over something so minor?
"an apple a day keeps the doctor away"
if an apple is "just what the doctor ordered," and the result is good health and less-frequent visits from patients, perhaps the doctor should consider another order that is more financially advantageous.
"cool as a cucumber"
if this refers to temperature, then there are several items that are cooler than a cucumber. if the reference is to personality, "cool as jay z" would be appropriate (speaking of HOV, the news of his album release being moved up to tomorrow has me feeling "like a kid in the candy store." "dollars for donuts" it will be great.
"an ax to grind"
you can only grind an ax for so long before it's time to just "bury the hatchet."
"cat got your tongue?"
apparently there are many cats getting many tongues in the world of baseball. taking steroids not only shrinks your balls and expands your cranium, but also has adverse effect on the tongue. (allowing the cat to get your tongue is an attempt to circumvent "eating crow" or having "egg on your face," rather than "taking the bull by the horns").
"best of both worlds"
is this the experience of having your cake and eating it too?
"bring home the bacon"
my mother-in-law brings home bacon all the time. she works for a bacon company.
"colder than a witches' tit"
that's just funny.
"go fly a kite"
and if you tie a key to that kite and fly it in a lightening storm, you just might discover electricity.
"beating a dead horse"
as in, "justin, this blog is beating a dead horse. take a hike!"
Saturday, August 15, 2009
remembering "the king of pop" (or not)
it's 1:39 on a saturday afternoon, which can only mean one thing: somewhere there is a michael jackson retrospective special on tv.
the reason for my extended absence from this blog was a conscious decision to not post until the media settled down with it's MJ coverage, but since that doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon, i guess i'll figure out some way to waste our collective time.
break the silence.
+++ the other day a one of my clients (an 11-year old boy) said, "for your FYI..."
this is brilliant, and lead me to think of some other great statements:
- "by the BTW..."
- "my estimated ETA is..."
- "what the WTF?"
- "oh my OMG!"
- "thank God it's TGIF"
- "too much TMI"
feel free to drop some of these gems in everyday conversation and be the envy of all your friends.
and if you are interested, a comprehensive list of internet-style slang can be found here.
+++ after watching 2.5 minutes of Keeping up with the Kardashians, i'm ready to exterminate the entire human race. we've had a good run, but i'm pretty sure primates, earthworms, and giraffes would demonstrate more dignity and intelligence at this point.
+++ last night my friends kenny, shorty and i were deliberating whether or not to go out following the atrocity that was the reds-nationals game. as we stood in kenny's driveway, we allowed a coin flip to decide our fate. the quarter landed on tails and we all went home. shorty joked that we should have called kevin to tell us what to do, and we agreed this would have been a better solution than our coin flip. the reason i tell this story is to illustrate the inability of three grown men to make a simple decision. embarrassing.
+++ speaking of the reds' game, adam dunn is looking leaner than in his cincinnati days. do they not have Waffle Houses in D.C.?
+++ Rio Bravo is better than Bladerunner.
+++ in reviewing what i have written so far, it is evident that i have no regard for the rules of capitalization. i'm a rebel when it comes to punctuation and grammar. i do whatever i want in part because i want to, but mostly because i am lazy.
+++ i was terrified earlier this week when i saw a headline that read: "heidi poses in playboy." thankfully, it was not my wife.
(i found this out from reading the rest of the article, not from looking at playboy.)
+++ speaking of heidi (my wife, not the wench of MTV's The Hills fame)... she baked up some pizzas earlier this week that would make your knees weak. have i ever mentioned how fortunate i am to be married to this woman? right now there is approximately 86k calories of cookie in our kitchen.
+++ heidi also got a haircut recently and now has bangs again. i would post a picture, but if you want to see her, you'll have to come visit us. this point did not need to be included, but i want it published on the world wide web how attractive she is.
+++ and that concludes the "heidi is great" segment of this blog. tune in next time as i wax poetically about heidi's dancing, singing and parallel parking skills.
+++ The Wire, even the second time through, is absolutely perfect. i wish 'bunny' colvin was my grandfather. he's good po-lice
+++ pete and heather asked me to be an usher for their upcoming wedding. although they were unaware at the time, i informed them of my extensive ushering and groomsmen experience in order to calm any anxiety they might have regarding my ability to fulfill this important task. for example, in the last wedding i worked, the bride's grandmother, mother and a bridesmaid were all walked down the aisle by yours truly. that's three trips up without a single incident, and three more ladies who can speak to my professional, yet fun-loving approach to the wedding performance business. i'm available for hire and am listed in the yellow pages under Gigolos (it was the best i could think of).
+++ i already mowed the lawn and washed the dishes, so don't judge me for the excessive amount of time i wasted on writing down these thoughts.
the reason for my extended absence from this blog was a conscious decision to not post until the media settled down with it's MJ coverage, but since that doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon, i guess i'll figure out some way to waste our collective time.
break the silence.
+++ the other day a one of my clients (an 11-year old boy) said, "for your FYI..."
this is brilliant, and lead me to think of some other great statements:
- "by the BTW..."
- "my estimated ETA is..."
- "what the WTF?"
- "oh my OMG!"
- "thank God it's TGIF"
- "too much TMI"
feel free to drop some of these gems in everyday conversation and be the envy of all your friends.
and if you are interested, a comprehensive list of internet-style slang can be found here.
+++ after watching 2.5 minutes of Keeping up with the Kardashians, i'm ready to exterminate the entire human race. we've had a good run, but i'm pretty sure primates, earthworms, and giraffes would demonstrate more dignity and intelligence at this point.
+++ last night my friends kenny, shorty and i were deliberating whether or not to go out following the atrocity that was the reds-nationals game. as we stood in kenny's driveway, we allowed a coin flip to decide our fate. the quarter landed on tails and we all went home. shorty joked that we should have called kevin to tell us what to do, and we agreed this would have been a better solution than our coin flip. the reason i tell this story is to illustrate the inability of three grown men to make a simple decision. embarrassing.
+++ speaking of the reds' game, adam dunn is looking leaner than in his cincinnati days. do they not have Waffle Houses in D.C.?
+++ Rio Bravo is better than Bladerunner.
+++ in reviewing what i have written so far, it is evident that i have no regard for the rules of capitalization. i'm a rebel when it comes to punctuation and grammar. i do whatever i want in part because i want to, but mostly because i am lazy.
+++ i was terrified earlier this week when i saw a headline that read: "heidi poses in playboy." thankfully, it was not my wife.
(i found this out from reading the rest of the article, not from looking at playboy.)
+++ speaking of heidi (my wife, not the wench of MTV's The Hills fame)... she baked up some pizzas earlier this week that would make your knees weak. have i ever mentioned how fortunate i am to be married to this woman? right now there is approximately 86k calories of cookie in our kitchen.
+++ heidi also got a haircut recently and now has bangs again. i would post a picture, but if you want to see her, you'll have to come visit us. this point did not need to be included, but i want it published on the world wide web how attractive she is.
+++ and that concludes the "heidi is great" segment of this blog. tune in next time as i wax poetically about heidi's dancing, singing and parallel parking skills.
+++ The Wire, even the second time through, is absolutely perfect. i wish 'bunny' colvin was my grandfather. he's good po-lice
+++ pete and heather asked me to be an usher for their upcoming wedding. although they were unaware at the time, i informed them of my extensive ushering and groomsmen experience in order to calm any anxiety they might have regarding my ability to fulfill this important task. for example, in the last wedding i worked, the bride's grandmother, mother and a bridesmaid were all walked down the aisle by yours truly. that's three trips up without a single incident, and three more ladies who can speak to my professional, yet fun-loving approach to the wedding performance business. i'm available for hire and am listed in the yellow pages under Gigolos (it was the best i could think of).
+++ i already mowed the lawn and washed the dishes, so don't judge me for the excessive amount of time i wasted on writing down these thoughts.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Why I Was Doomed to Never Become a Professional Athlete
Awhile back Kevin called me up with a delightful idea to do a back-and-forth blog. Of course, my response was a resounding "heck yes." We traded emails about the subject at hand and came up with what you are about to read. If my mom is reading this, I'm sorry for all of Kevin's cursing.
KEVIN: I crack under pressure. Over the past few years, I've come to grips with this. It's not something I'm proud of, but something I've learned to deal with and even joke about (even though with each joke, my confidence crumbles just a little more, and I slip deeper into a chasm of inadequacy).
Anyway, this last 4th of July weekend, I visited Cincinnati to enjoy the annual event my friends and I have succinctly titled "Let's go watch $2500 worth of fireworks get shot off in Billy's backyard." Before the "oooohs" and "aaahhhs" commenced, a large group of us were playing a muddy, sloppy game of backyard volleyball (another tradition). Normally in large groups, I'm an adequate and sometimes even good "athlete." I hang back, do my part, and even occasionally put someone in their place with a completely unintended and perfectly placed shot.
(In order to salvage a few scraps of pride, I want to quickly make the point that I'm not like Smalls from Sandlot. I don't close my eyes and stick my hand up in the air and have a phenom (Benny) cover for me by hitting a perfect fly ball right into my mitt. My asshole doesn't tighten when the ball's heading toward me. I know how to play sports, and those of you who know me can attest. By the way, if Benny was so good, why the hell was he being put in as a pinch runner at the end of the movie when he was playing for the Dodgers? Sure, he stole home, but I've already seen that happen like three times this baseball season, so big deal. And everyone knows that pinch runners are usually shitbag players. Terrible directorial decision).
Okay, now back to my point. We weren't keeping score in this volleyball game, so the main objective for anyone with competitive blood was to get in a solid block or swat that shit back in an unsuspecting 15-year old girl's face. What else could the objective possibly be? Finally, after about an hour of playing in the rain and waiting for my opportunity, a ball was lofted my way. In moments like this, I don't even think about choking. I used to, but now I feel like it's become so ingrained in my psyche that my brain doesn't really need to expend any energy in embarrassing me. It just does. So as the ball was getting larger and larger in my eyes, I jumped up, cocked my arm, and whiffed with such an intensity that the ball hit me in the head on the way back down. Laughs ensued, and I played it off by laughing as well (this is a recent development in my cracking under pressure personality trait. I used to get bent out of shape, but now I find it almost comical enough to the point where I laugh as well . . . almost).
JUSTIN: I was there when Kevin whiffed on the volleyball, and I can tell that it was hilarious. Classic choke-ery.
As a fellow struggling CUPA (crack under pressure anonymous), I can affirm that this syndrome is crippling. I should ask our friend Heather, who is a therapist, if there is a diagnosis in DSM IV for this condition. Perhaps we can be prescribed medicine that will alleviate our daily pain.
I could share stories about all the times I have cracked under pressure, but I already wrote about it on the blog a few months ago so I'll skip reliving those traumas now. As i think about it, perhaps the key is going back to our pasts and examining what went wrong early on in order to discover the underlying factors that contribute to this inadequacy.
Blame rests squarely on the shoulders of my parents. They were too supportive. My dad wasn't athletic and never yelled at me to try harder or do better. If i had the dad from Varsity Blues, I probably would have experienced more success. If I was afraid to fail, because I would be beat or verbally abused when I got home, I would have learned to deal with the pressure would have been a better sportsman because of it. It worked for James Van Der Beek. All of this "I'm proud of you son" and "as long as you did your best..." talk did nothing but make me mentally weak. Thanks a lot, Dad. My son will get no support whatsoever and will thank me for it when he's older.
So am i screwed? Is there hope for things to get better? Probably not. But perhaps it can be overcome in another way. And i'm talking about performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) here. Listen, we kill athletes who crack under pressure. Alex Rodriguez can hit the cover off a baseball in innings 1-8, but when the game is on the line, he wilts like a delicate rose in the Sahara desert. For years Barry Bonds was considered a failure under pressure ('02 Series performance changed that), Donovan McNabb has thrown up on the field, Tony Romo can't hold a snap, and on and on. These guys are infamous in their mishandling of pressure. Hell, it can even extend to an entire organization (New York Mets in previous two years, Boston Red Sox until '04, Dallas Cowboys in the playoffs, etc.) Peyton Manning can't handle the pressure. neither can Lebron James.
I'm not suggesting that all of these players are on steroids, but I'm making the point that one can be extremely successful in spite of his/her inability to perform well under pressure. So, what is the PED that you and I can stick in our own ass (figuratively)? The key for guys like you and me is to inflate our "stats" in the 99 meaningless scenarios in our lives, so that when the pressure cooker is turned up,
the whiff won't define us.
Here's my other ray of hope to offer: ESPN2 is showing NFL's Greatest Games right now - 99 playoffs: Niners vs. Packers. Terrell Owens dropped four passes throughout the course of that game and looked like the ultimate goat. I remember watching that game and being disgusted with the whole thing. I wanted to murder Terrell Owens. Jerry Rice, the greatest wide receiver of all time is catch-less while T.O. is playing football with concrete blocks fastened to his hands. Brett Favre, the ultimate under pressure guy is looking like he gets to add another fourth quarter comeback to his bloated resume, and I'm about to cry/vomit/commit suicide. Jerry Rice uncharacteristically cracks under pressure and fumbles (oh wait, the officials decide to intercede and make a terrible call to keep the drive going) and then what happens? As if God himself decided to intercede on behalf of all chokers everywhere, Terrell Owens gets his wooden hands on a ball thrown by Steve Young with three seconds on the clock to win the game 30-27. redemption under pressure.
So there are the two options we have in order to overcome this disorder: inflate our regular season stats to diminish the failures in pressure situations, or blow it repeatedly and wait for God himself to give us one shining moment of glory. You decide.
KEVIN I think you're trying to bait me in with the Peyton Manning comment, so I'll bite. Cracking under pressure when you're a Super Bowl winner immediately disqualifies you. Sure, he's had some wayward moments in the playoffs, but he got it done in 2006, thus voiding all previous chokes. There is no argument to be had here. I'm right.
Wilts like a delicate rose in the Sahara Desert? Wow. That was quite the wing-dinger. Anyway, I'd like to think we could inflate our "stats" to supersede our choking in pressure packed moments, but you're basically disproving that theory through your list of athletes who put up monster stats but never come through when it matters. McNabb has been in five NFC Championship games in the past decade and has no Super Bowl to show for it. That's outrageous. You think people are going to talk about his consistent playoff prowess or his inability to win the big game? It'll be the latter every single time. Remember that clip of Steve Young having the imaginary monkey pulled off his back before he finally won a Super Bowl during the years of Cowboys domination? No way is he looked at in the same light unless he wins a Super Bowl and proves that he's some kind of equivalent to Montana (even though we all know he's not).
Daniel LaRusso was right. During the heart wrenching scene in the locker room following his leg mutilation at the hands of the Cobra Kai, Mr. Miyagi tells Daniel that he had nothing more to prove. He had accomplished the necessary steps to earn respect. I say fuck that. Daniel knew that if he forfeited the championship match, then that's what he was gong to be remembered for, and it would never be square in his mind. So, he sucked it up, raised a middle finger to the pressure, and went out and crane kicked Johnny Lawrence's ass right back to Beverly Hills. And you know what happened? Johnny handed Daniel the trophy and told him he was "all right." While, I thought the final scene was forced (given the collective personality, shouldn't the Cobra Kai be made up of bitter, enraged sore losers?), it solidified Daniel's reputation as a winner who could meet the pressure head on. Plus, he probably got to fuck Elisabeth Shue later that night in the ball pit at Golf N' Stuff.
JUSTIN Kevin is forcing me to type this with correct capitalization because Kevin can't handle my free-wheelin' ways. I don't conform to the archaic and tedious rules of grammar that Kevin, the editor, is a slave to. A period is sufficient to mark the beginning and end of a sentence, and a capital letter is unnecessary to convey this meaning.
That being said, you're right Kevin, I was baiting you with that Peyton Manning comment - and it worked. I have nothing more to say about that.
Danel Larussa is a classic example of somebody who spent his entire life cracking under pressure, but was able to overcome because of a completely unpredictable event that changed the course of history. Had Johnny Lawrence not swept Daniel's leg, I'm relatively certain Daniel would not have been able to pull that figurative monkey off his back. Aside from his completely unrealistic swagger and confidence in courting young women, there is no indication that Daniel was ever up to the task of completing an objective under pressure. Dude was a whiny little girl who threw his bike in the dumpster 'cause he fell and skinned his knee.
If Daniel can do it, then so can we. I mean it, if Hollywood has taught us anything about anything, it is that the improbable can and will happen. Johnny Utah, star quarterback for Ohio State, cracked under pressure in the Rose Bowl three years ago (actually his knee got folded about 90 degrees the wrong way, but my point is better made if he failed because he couldn't handle the pressure).
Do you Remember the Titans? Of course you do. You remember this team not because they won a game (Did they win the state title? I don't even remember), but because they overcame adversity. Sure, we might not have to overcome racism or any other -ism to succeed, but we have to succeed.
This is how we settle it: You, me, and two vehicles on an abandoned stretch of road for a game of "chicken." That's right, two motor vehicles barreling toward each other at excessive speeds with the result of one man standing tall and the other man most likely flying off a cliff in a burning inferno of flaming car. If you and I would put everything on the line, one of us would have to be victorious. Although one of us would have to deal with the pain of failing under pressure once again, at least one of us (most likely me) would break out of the funk. This has to work. It can't fail.
KEVIN:You're assumption that you'd be able to rebound out of a life full of cracking under pressure is beyond me. How you got married, I'll never know. I admit that took balls, but I guess by the time the wedding's actually happening, you can't really back out anyway. Who's going to eat all the shrimp cocktails and drink all the Keystone Light? By the wedding day, you're already in so deep, it's pretty much impossible to puss out. It would almost be more courageous to call the wedding off the day of instead of go through it. So, I take it back (this is no slight to Justin, or Heidi for that matter. Their wedding was a fucking blast).
Obviously, I'm being cynical, but who's really surprised with that? Even though you don't really believe it, I appreciate your confidence in breaking out of our lifelong funks, Justin. It's an admirable trait.
I'm going to wrap up my side of this inaugural joint blog post with a little blame heaved on my parents. I lacked toughness growing up. I lacked the guttural spunk and drive that could've easily catapulted me through junior high and high school with an air of confidence. Why is that, though? I played competitive sports growing up (soccer, baseball, basketball). However, I was forbidden to play football, regardless of my pleas and demands to do so. Herein lies the problem. While some don't need a solid contact sport to make them tough and succeed at not choking, I'm confident it would've aided me in my efforts. As of right now, I enjoy Project Runway more than I probably should; I only have one tattoo; aside from a creepy strip of hair on my upper lip, I can't grow facial hair; I'm pretty much pale as fuck most of the year; The end of the movie A League of Their Own brings a tear to my eye every time; and so on. These aren't tough qualities.
If I had been raised playing football, an at times violent brute sport, I'm positive I'd be somewhere chopping down redwoods, putting out a forest fires, walking over hot coals barefoot, or playing tight end on a playoff bound football team. No doubt about it. Given, my mom was looking out for me because it's pretty much guaranteed that at some point in my football career I'd dislocate a shoulder, tear an ACL, or break a wrist, but shit, how fucking tough would I have looked then?
For now, I've accepted my role as a strange hybrid of a diehard sports fan/hipster/nerd/person. Am I doomed to crack under pressure for the rest of my life? Who knows. I don't think we really even answered the fucking question. I occasionally come through in the clutch. But this mainly happens when I'm playing video games by myself or shooting a crinkled up piece of paper into the trash can. Eh whatever, I'll take it.
JUSTIN
Well, I'm cured.
For those of you who weren't there, I visited Kevin up in Chicago this weekend and had a blast. Late Saturday night (roughly 3 a.m. or so) in the back room of some bar that we were hanging out at because Kevin is hip and cool and has connections now, there was a game of pool being played that inevitably would change my life. Kevin and his foul-mouthed female associate against me and a dude named Phil. I talked up my game before we started, and proceeded to miss every single shot. Phil knocked in every one of our solids while I engaged in a comedy of errors. My game was a wreck - until the pressure was on. That's right, 8-ball staring me in the face. I leaned down, surveyed the table, lined up my shot, and broke the curse, while breaking the spirit of my opponents.
In Independence Day, those aliens thought they were pretty special. They thought they had it all figured out, and for a second there, it looked like they did. It was sad to see Alex, from Saved By the Bell: The College Years get blown up by a giant tractor beam from a UFO while standing atop that funky building in Los Angeles. All was lost. Even Jeff Goldblum had given up because he was smarter than everyone else and saw the handwriting on the wall.
Do you remember who saved the day? Of course you remember Will Smith as the conquering hero, but do you remember his life up to that point? Rejected time and time again from NASA (apparently because his girlfriend was a stripper? Not sure what that had to do with anything), unable to decide whether to pull the trigger and get hitched to his girl, and meddling in an uneventful life with his dog, Boomer.
When the moment was the most tense, the pressure was greatest, the stakes the highest, and the fate of humanity itself on the line, the NASA reject saved the world. Will Smith flew an alien ship into the belly of the beast and killed all the tyrannical aliens. I made an extremely easy shot to win a game of pool against some drunk people - i think the two are congruous. I'm ready to move on.
KEVIN: I crack under pressure. Over the past few years, I've come to grips with this. It's not something I'm proud of, but something I've learned to deal with and even joke about (even though with each joke, my confidence crumbles just a little more, and I slip deeper into a chasm of inadequacy).
Anyway, this last 4th of July weekend, I visited Cincinnati to enjoy the annual event my friends and I have succinctly titled "Let's go watch $2500 worth of fireworks get shot off in Billy's backyard." Before the "oooohs" and "aaahhhs" commenced, a large group of us were playing a muddy, sloppy game of backyard volleyball (another tradition). Normally in large groups, I'm an adequate and sometimes even good "athlete." I hang back, do my part, and even occasionally put someone in their place with a completely unintended and perfectly placed shot.
(In order to salvage a few scraps of pride, I want to quickly make the point that I'm not like Smalls from Sandlot. I don't close my eyes and stick my hand up in the air and have a phenom (Benny) cover for me by hitting a perfect fly ball right into my mitt. My asshole doesn't tighten when the ball's heading toward me. I know how to play sports, and those of you who know me can attest. By the way, if Benny was so good, why the hell was he being put in as a pinch runner at the end of the movie when he was playing for the Dodgers? Sure, he stole home, but I've already seen that happen like three times this baseball season, so big deal. And everyone knows that pinch runners are usually shitbag players. Terrible directorial decision).
Okay, now back to my point. We weren't keeping score in this volleyball game, so the main objective for anyone with competitive blood was to get in a solid block or swat that shit back in an unsuspecting 15-year old girl's face. What else could the objective possibly be? Finally, after about an hour of playing in the rain and waiting for my opportunity, a ball was lofted my way. In moments like this, I don't even think about choking. I used to, but now I feel like it's become so ingrained in my psyche that my brain doesn't really need to expend any energy in embarrassing me. It just does. So as the ball was getting larger and larger in my eyes, I jumped up, cocked my arm, and whiffed with such an intensity that the ball hit me in the head on the way back down. Laughs ensued, and I played it off by laughing as well (this is a recent development in my cracking under pressure personality trait. I used to get bent out of shape, but now I find it almost comical enough to the point where I laugh as well . . . almost).
JUSTIN: I was there when Kevin whiffed on the volleyball, and I can tell that it was hilarious. Classic choke-ery.
As a fellow struggling CUPA (crack under pressure anonymous), I can affirm that this syndrome is crippling. I should ask our friend Heather, who is a therapist, if there is a diagnosis in DSM IV for this condition. Perhaps we can be prescribed medicine that will alleviate our daily pain.
I could share stories about all the times I have cracked under pressure, but I already wrote about it on the blog a few months ago so I'll skip reliving those traumas now. As i think about it, perhaps the key is going back to our pasts and examining what went wrong early on in order to discover the underlying factors that contribute to this inadequacy.
Blame rests squarely on the shoulders of my parents. They were too supportive. My dad wasn't athletic and never yelled at me to try harder or do better. If i had the dad from Varsity Blues, I probably would have experienced more success. If I was afraid to fail, because I would be beat or verbally abused when I got home, I would have learned to deal with the pressure would have been a better sportsman because of it. It worked for James Van Der Beek. All of this "I'm proud of you son" and "as long as you did your best..." talk did nothing but make me mentally weak. Thanks a lot, Dad. My son will get no support whatsoever and will thank me for it when he's older.
So am i screwed? Is there hope for things to get better? Probably not. But perhaps it can be overcome in another way. And i'm talking about performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) here. Listen, we kill athletes who crack under pressure. Alex Rodriguez can hit the cover off a baseball in innings 1-8, but when the game is on the line, he wilts like a delicate rose in the Sahara desert. For years Barry Bonds was considered a failure under pressure ('02 Series performance changed that), Donovan McNabb has thrown up on the field, Tony Romo can't hold a snap, and on and on. These guys are infamous in their mishandling of pressure. Hell, it can even extend to an entire organization (New York Mets in previous two years, Boston Red Sox until '04, Dallas Cowboys in the playoffs, etc.) Peyton Manning can't handle the pressure. neither can Lebron James.
I'm not suggesting that all of these players are on steroids, but I'm making the point that one can be extremely successful in spite of his/her inability to perform well under pressure. So, what is the PED that you and I can stick in our own ass (figuratively)? The key for guys like you and me is to inflate our "stats" in the 99 meaningless scenarios in our lives, so that when the pressure cooker is turned up,
the whiff won't define us.
Here's my other ray of hope to offer: ESPN2 is showing NFL's Greatest Games right now - 99 playoffs: Niners vs. Packers. Terrell Owens dropped four passes throughout the course of that game and looked like the ultimate goat. I remember watching that game and being disgusted with the whole thing. I wanted to murder Terrell Owens. Jerry Rice, the greatest wide receiver of all time is catch-less while T.O. is playing football with concrete blocks fastened to his hands. Brett Favre, the ultimate under pressure guy is looking like he gets to add another fourth quarter comeback to his bloated resume, and I'm about to cry/vomit/commit suicide. Jerry Rice uncharacteristically cracks under pressure and fumbles (oh wait, the officials decide to intercede and make a terrible call to keep the drive going) and then what happens? As if God himself decided to intercede on behalf of all chokers everywhere, Terrell Owens gets his wooden hands on a ball thrown by Steve Young with three seconds on the clock to win the game 30-27. redemption under pressure.
So there are the two options we have in order to overcome this disorder: inflate our regular season stats to diminish the failures in pressure situations, or blow it repeatedly and wait for God himself to give us one shining moment of glory. You decide.
KEVIN I think you're trying to bait me in with the Peyton Manning comment, so I'll bite. Cracking under pressure when you're a Super Bowl winner immediately disqualifies you. Sure, he's had some wayward moments in the playoffs, but he got it done in 2006, thus voiding all previous chokes. There is no argument to be had here. I'm right.
Wilts like a delicate rose in the Sahara Desert? Wow. That was quite the wing-dinger. Anyway, I'd like to think we could inflate our "stats" to supersede our choking in pressure packed moments, but you're basically disproving that theory through your list of athletes who put up monster stats but never come through when it matters. McNabb has been in five NFC Championship games in the past decade and has no Super Bowl to show for it. That's outrageous. You think people are going to talk about his consistent playoff prowess or his inability to win the big game? It'll be the latter every single time. Remember that clip of Steve Young having the imaginary monkey pulled off his back before he finally won a Super Bowl during the years of Cowboys domination? No way is he looked at in the same light unless he wins a Super Bowl and proves that he's some kind of equivalent to Montana (even though we all know he's not).
Daniel LaRusso was right. During the heart wrenching scene in the locker room following his leg mutilation at the hands of the Cobra Kai, Mr. Miyagi tells Daniel that he had nothing more to prove. He had accomplished the necessary steps to earn respect. I say fuck that. Daniel knew that if he forfeited the championship match, then that's what he was gong to be remembered for, and it would never be square in his mind. So, he sucked it up, raised a middle finger to the pressure, and went out and crane kicked Johnny Lawrence's ass right back to Beverly Hills. And you know what happened? Johnny handed Daniel the trophy and told him he was "all right." While, I thought the final scene was forced (given the collective personality, shouldn't the Cobra Kai be made up of bitter, enraged sore losers?), it solidified Daniel's reputation as a winner who could meet the pressure head on. Plus, he probably got to fuck Elisabeth Shue later that night in the ball pit at Golf N' Stuff.
JUSTIN Kevin is forcing me to type this with correct capitalization because Kevin can't handle my free-wheelin' ways. I don't conform to the archaic and tedious rules of grammar that Kevin, the editor, is a slave to. A period is sufficient to mark the beginning and end of a sentence, and a capital letter is unnecessary to convey this meaning.
That being said, you're right Kevin, I was baiting you with that Peyton Manning comment - and it worked. I have nothing more to say about that.
Danel Larussa is a classic example of somebody who spent his entire life cracking under pressure, but was able to overcome because of a completely unpredictable event that changed the course of history. Had Johnny Lawrence not swept Daniel's leg, I'm relatively certain Daniel would not have been able to pull that figurative monkey off his back. Aside from his completely unrealistic swagger and confidence in courting young women, there is no indication that Daniel was ever up to the task of completing an objective under pressure. Dude was a whiny little girl who threw his bike in the dumpster 'cause he fell and skinned his knee.
If Daniel can do it, then so can we. I mean it, if Hollywood has taught us anything about anything, it is that the improbable can and will happen. Johnny Utah, star quarterback for Ohio State, cracked under pressure in the Rose Bowl three years ago (actually his knee got folded about 90 degrees the wrong way, but my point is better made if he failed because he couldn't handle the pressure).
Do you Remember the Titans? Of course you do. You remember this team not because they won a game (Did they win the state title? I don't even remember), but because they overcame adversity. Sure, we might not have to overcome racism or any other -ism to succeed, but we have to succeed.
This is how we settle it: You, me, and two vehicles on an abandoned stretch of road for a game of "chicken." That's right, two motor vehicles barreling toward each other at excessive speeds with the result of one man standing tall and the other man most likely flying off a cliff in a burning inferno of flaming car. If you and I would put everything on the line, one of us would have to be victorious. Although one of us would have to deal with the pain of failing under pressure once again, at least one of us (most likely me) would break out of the funk. This has to work. It can't fail.
KEVIN:You're assumption that you'd be able to rebound out of a life full of cracking under pressure is beyond me. How you got married, I'll never know. I admit that took balls, but I guess by the time the wedding's actually happening, you can't really back out anyway. Who's going to eat all the shrimp cocktails and drink all the Keystone Light? By the wedding day, you're already in so deep, it's pretty much impossible to puss out. It would almost be more courageous to call the wedding off the day of instead of go through it. So, I take it back (this is no slight to Justin, or Heidi for that matter. Their wedding was a fucking blast).
Obviously, I'm being cynical, but who's really surprised with that? Even though you don't really believe it, I appreciate your confidence in breaking out of our lifelong funks, Justin. It's an admirable trait.
I'm going to wrap up my side of this inaugural joint blog post with a little blame heaved on my parents. I lacked toughness growing up. I lacked the guttural spunk and drive that could've easily catapulted me through junior high and high school with an air of confidence. Why is that, though? I played competitive sports growing up (soccer, baseball, basketball). However, I was forbidden to play football, regardless of my pleas and demands to do so. Herein lies the problem. While some don't need a solid contact sport to make them tough and succeed at not choking, I'm confident it would've aided me in my efforts. As of right now, I enjoy Project Runway more than I probably should; I only have one tattoo; aside from a creepy strip of hair on my upper lip, I can't grow facial hair; I'm pretty much pale as fuck most of the year; The end of the movie A League of Their Own brings a tear to my eye every time; and so on. These aren't tough qualities.
If I had been raised playing football, an at times violent brute sport, I'm positive I'd be somewhere chopping down redwoods, putting out a forest fires, walking over hot coals barefoot, or playing tight end on a playoff bound football team. No doubt about it. Given, my mom was looking out for me because it's pretty much guaranteed that at some point in my football career I'd dislocate a shoulder, tear an ACL, or break a wrist, but shit, how fucking tough would I have looked then?
For now, I've accepted my role as a strange hybrid of a diehard sports fan/hipster/nerd/person. Am I doomed to crack under pressure for the rest of my life? Who knows. I don't think we really even answered the fucking question. I occasionally come through in the clutch. But this mainly happens when I'm playing video games by myself or shooting a crinkled up piece of paper into the trash can. Eh whatever, I'll take it.
JUSTIN
Well, I'm cured.
For those of you who weren't there, I visited Kevin up in Chicago this weekend and had a blast. Late Saturday night (roughly 3 a.m. or so) in the back room of some bar that we were hanging out at because Kevin is hip and cool and has connections now, there was a game of pool being played that inevitably would change my life. Kevin and his foul-mouthed female associate against me and a dude named Phil. I talked up my game before we started, and proceeded to miss every single shot. Phil knocked in every one of our solids while I engaged in a comedy of errors. My game was a wreck - until the pressure was on. That's right, 8-ball staring me in the face. I leaned down, surveyed the table, lined up my shot, and broke the curse, while breaking the spirit of my opponents.
In Independence Day, those aliens thought they were pretty special. They thought they had it all figured out, and for a second there, it looked like they did. It was sad to see Alex, from Saved By the Bell: The College Years get blown up by a giant tractor beam from a UFO while standing atop that funky building in Los Angeles. All was lost. Even Jeff Goldblum had given up because he was smarter than everyone else and saw the handwriting on the wall.
Do you remember who saved the day? Of course you remember Will Smith as the conquering hero, but do you remember his life up to that point? Rejected time and time again from NASA (apparently because his girlfriend was a stripper? Not sure what that had to do with anything), unable to decide whether to pull the trigger and get hitched to his girl, and meddling in an uneventful life with his dog, Boomer.
When the moment was the most tense, the pressure was greatest, the stakes the highest, and the fate of humanity itself on the line, the NASA reject saved the world. Will Smith flew an alien ship into the belly of the beast and killed all the tyrannical aliens. I made an extremely easy shot to win a game of pool against some drunk people - i think the two are congruous. I'm ready to move on.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
the matrix (and other stuff)
it's thursday night, the wife is gone, and the matrix is on. you know what that means...
in the past week i have had two blog ideas ruined:
1) i planned a running diary of the soccer game on sunday between usa and some country in south america. i was so excited because i know nothing about soccer, and relish the opportunity to mock things that i don't understand. i was going to make fun of the sport, the weird beehive noise throughout the game and anything else i could observe and report upon. but alas, i was invited to go swimming at the norwood community pool, and in spite of my best efforts to reject this invitation, in the end i decided to let my real life infringe upon and ruin my e-life. i'm sorry.
2) i had all these thoughts about the death of michael jackson and planned to share them with you, but bill simmons and chuck klosterman stole my thunder by discussing the reaction to the reaction of his death in detail, to the point that i figured i would be seen as ripping them off. suffice it to say, that we all went to a high school where the weird drama kid died unexpectedly and everybody started pouring on the emotion in order to make it all about them. we love any reason to make anything about us. michael jackson is a tragic figure because he has been used his entire life. even in his death, he is being used.
"don't give me any of that juris-my-diction crap..." what a line. and it didn't even come from keanu. i'm sure i will have some classic lines to share in the coming moments.
have i mentioned that facebook is destroying my blog? yes i have. let's move on
"i'm trying to free your mind. i can only show you the door. you're the one who has to walk through it." - morpheus to neo.
4th of july? i'm a fan. wrote about this last year, and gave you 1776 reasons why i love this holiday. these reasons still ring true today, as loud as the liberty bell.
in this economy, even Zion is in trouble. watch out for the sentinels!
my friend kevin is at an 'explosions in the sky' show right now and keeps texting me about the grandeur and majesty of it all. so very jealous.
keanu: [blank stare]
do i spend more time with my dog than any other person? that can't be healthy. on the plus side, he has seen me at my worst and loves me just the same.
keanu: "what vase? i'm sorry."
i wish patrick swayze was in this movie. the only way this experience could be better would be if instead of neo, johnny utah was the main character. i love point break.
i was naive to think that if i just started watching a movie that i have seen a thousand times and started typing my thoughts that this would go somewhere, but as the clock approaches midnight, it is apparent that this is not the case. i'm not even going to spell check this thing. call it a rough draft (with no revisions to follow).
in the past week i have had two blog ideas ruined:
1) i planned a running diary of the soccer game on sunday between usa and some country in south america. i was so excited because i know nothing about soccer, and relish the opportunity to mock things that i don't understand. i was going to make fun of the sport, the weird beehive noise throughout the game and anything else i could observe and report upon. but alas, i was invited to go swimming at the norwood community pool, and in spite of my best efforts to reject this invitation, in the end i decided to let my real life infringe upon and ruin my e-life. i'm sorry.
2) i had all these thoughts about the death of michael jackson and planned to share them with you, but bill simmons and chuck klosterman stole my thunder by discussing the reaction to the reaction of his death in detail, to the point that i figured i would be seen as ripping them off. suffice it to say, that we all went to a high school where the weird drama kid died unexpectedly and everybody started pouring on the emotion in order to make it all about them. we love any reason to make anything about us. michael jackson is a tragic figure because he has been used his entire life. even in his death, he is being used.
"don't give me any of that juris-my-diction crap..." what a line. and it didn't even come from keanu. i'm sure i will have some classic lines to share in the coming moments.
have i mentioned that facebook is destroying my blog? yes i have. let's move on
"i'm trying to free your mind. i can only show you the door. you're the one who has to walk through it." - morpheus to neo.
4th of july? i'm a fan. wrote about this last year, and gave you 1776 reasons why i love this holiday. these reasons still ring true today, as loud as the liberty bell.
in this economy, even Zion is in trouble. watch out for the sentinels!
my friend kevin is at an 'explosions in the sky' show right now and keeps texting me about the grandeur and majesty of it all. so very jealous.
keanu: [blank stare]
do i spend more time with my dog than any other person? that can't be healthy. on the plus side, he has seen me at my worst and loves me just the same.
keanu: "what vase? i'm sorry."
i wish patrick swayze was in this movie. the only way this experience could be better would be if instead of neo, johnny utah was the main character. i love point break.
i was naive to think that if i just started watching a movie that i have seen a thousand times and started typing my thoughts that this would go somewhere, but as the clock approaches midnight, it is apparent that this is not the case. i'm not even going to spell check this thing. call it a rough draft (with no revisions to follow).
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
on my mind.
these are the things i'm thinking about right now:
john and kate are getting divorced. malcom gladwell and his smart friends saw this coming years ago. if you don't know what i am talking about, then do yourself a favor and go buy the following three books: "tipping point," "blink," and "outliers." in "blink," gladwell tells about some psychologists who can look at married people and within 15 minutes be able to predict with over 85% accuracy whether this couple will last. it's called thin-slicing and it's fascinating. of course when it comes to the dominating demon that is kate matched with the passive pansy john, it's not that hard to see. in reality, i'm sad about this because divorce is sad. divorce is tragic. i don't watch the show and i don't know much about it, but when you cut through the gossip-column celebrity obsession b.s., it's a sad thing when two people decide that they can't live with one another anymore. i wish it didn't happen to people, and i pray to God everyday that it doesn't happen to heidi and i.
yes, i know that they are making a "where the wild things are" movie. yes, i'm excited about it. that book was my favorite as a child and obviously i have a big enough connection with it to defile myself with a tattoo of it's images. but i swear that if another stranger asks to see my arm, and then makes some sort of comment about the forthcoming movie i am going to start firing shots into the crowd (yes, i carry a firearm at all times). i like spike jonze a lot (director) but think david eggers is a tool (screenwriter). will i be there opening night? yes i will.
people who know me, or any male born between 1976 and 1985 have been asking me if i am excited about the upcoming GIJOE movie. my answer is that i am not. mostly, i just don't pay attention to movies because i never go to see them, but also, i don't trust hollywood. i didn't see transformers because i didn't think it would be as good as the old cartoon with the sweet metal theme song. i refuse to watch 99% of the remakes that are made each year because frankly, i just can't support these money-making ploys that prey upon our collective nostalgia.
slow sports season right now. i need something to happen to spice it up. i'm hoping that "brett favre orders a steak at outback - considers retiring from retirement" scrolls across the ticker on espn just so i have something to complain about.
wait? brett favre is in the news every day because he's debating another return to football this year? this is really happening again? and some people still think that he's not the biggest turd to ever put on a helmet? i don't believe it. kevin and i have been telling you people for years to quit supporting this guy. don't say we didn't warn you.
kevin and i are so smart. (and yes kevin, "american history x" is a very good movie. but you knew that because you're almost as smart as i am).
i'm not angry. i realize that all of my comments so far have come across as condescending and vehement, but in reality, i'm in a really good mood. an unexpected date with heidi tonight afforded me some good talks, beer and comet's jerk tofu burrito, so how could i be in a poor mood? that would be silly.
one month from today i will head up to chicago to catch a cubs-reds game at wrigley with kevin. this is going to be the best. i will tweet/facebook/blog all about it.
just watched season 1 of "the wire" again this past week. if you haven't watched this show by now then we can just stop being friends and go our separate ways. i'm telling you that if you give it a chance and watch it that you will lose your damn mind. i watched some of the commentaries this time too, and can tell you that i am completely convinced that this was the smartest and most well-done show ever made. just watch it. you have no excuse. i'm going to get on facebook and see if they have a "which 'the wire' character are you?" i hope i'm bunk.
my fears have been confirmed. facebook has robbed my creative ingenuity by stealing the everyday thoughts that i usually collect and collaborate into a fine blog each week for your reading pleasure.
i'm concerned that the annual camping trip isn't going to happen. am i in charge of this thing? why is nobody asking me about it? is anybody still on board with this thing?
listened to a message today called "just do something" by this guy deyoung. it was motivating and convicting. i could be doing a lot more with my life if i just left the house and started something without thinking through all the possible ways that it could fail. malcom gladwell would be so disappointed in me, especially since i was born in april and should be much more successful than i am. jimmy mcnulty didn't think about all bad stuff that would happen if he went after the baltimore drug game without reserve. he just did it. and so should i.
did i mention that you should read malcom gladwell's books?
did i mention that you should watch "the wire?"
what are you waiting for? we could have so much more to talk about if you would just do something...
(see how i just tied all those things together like that? i'm good.)
john and kate are getting divorced. malcom gladwell and his smart friends saw this coming years ago. if you don't know what i am talking about, then do yourself a favor and go buy the following three books: "tipping point," "blink," and "outliers." in "blink," gladwell tells about some psychologists who can look at married people and within 15 minutes be able to predict with over 85% accuracy whether this couple will last. it's called thin-slicing and it's fascinating. of course when it comes to the dominating demon that is kate matched with the passive pansy john, it's not that hard to see. in reality, i'm sad about this because divorce is sad. divorce is tragic. i don't watch the show and i don't know much about it, but when you cut through the gossip-column celebrity obsession b.s., it's a sad thing when two people decide that they can't live with one another anymore. i wish it didn't happen to people, and i pray to God everyday that it doesn't happen to heidi and i.
yes, i know that they are making a "where the wild things are" movie. yes, i'm excited about it. that book was my favorite as a child and obviously i have a big enough connection with it to defile myself with a tattoo of it's images. but i swear that if another stranger asks to see my arm, and then makes some sort of comment about the forthcoming movie i am going to start firing shots into the crowd (yes, i carry a firearm at all times). i like spike jonze a lot (director) but think david eggers is a tool (screenwriter). will i be there opening night? yes i will.
people who know me, or any male born between 1976 and 1985 have been asking me if i am excited about the upcoming GIJOE movie. my answer is that i am not. mostly, i just don't pay attention to movies because i never go to see them, but also, i don't trust hollywood. i didn't see transformers because i didn't think it would be as good as the old cartoon with the sweet metal theme song. i refuse to watch 99% of the remakes that are made each year because frankly, i just can't support these money-making ploys that prey upon our collective nostalgia.
slow sports season right now. i need something to happen to spice it up. i'm hoping that "brett favre orders a steak at outback - considers retiring from retirement" scrolls across the ticker on espn just so i have something to complain about.
wait? brett favre is in the news every day because he's debating another return to football this year? this is really happening again? and some people still think that he's not the biggest turd to ever put on a helmet? i don't believe it. kevin and i have been telling you people for years to quit supporting this guy. don't say we didn't warn you.
kevin and i are so smart. (and yes kevin, "american history x" is a very good movie. but you knew that because you're almost as smart as i am).
i'm not angry. i realize that all of my comments so far have come across as condescending and vehement, but in reality, i'm in a really good mood. an unexpected date with heidi tonight afforded me some good talks, beer and comet's jerk tofu burrito, so how could i be in a poor mood? that would be silly.
one month from today i will head up to chicago to catch a cubs-reds game at wrigley with kevin. this is going to be the best. i will tweet/facebook/blog all about it.
just watched season 1 of "the wire" again this past week. if you haven't watched this show by now then we can just stop being friends and go our separate ways. i'm telling you that if you give it a chance and watch it that you will lose your damn mind. i watched some of the commentaries this time too, and can tell you that i am completely convinced that this was the smartest and most well-done show ever made. just watch it. you have no excuse. i'm going to get on facebook and see if they have a "which 'the wire' character are you?" i hope i'm bunk.
my fears have been confirmed. facebook has robbed my creative ingenuity by stealing the everyday thoughts that i usually collect and collaborate into a fine blog each week for your reading pleasure.
i'm concerned that the annual camping trip isn't going to happen. am i in charge of this thing? why is nobody asking me about it? is anybody still on board with this thing?
listened to a message today called "just do something" by this guy deyoung. it was motivating and convicting. i could be doing a lot more with my life if i just left the house and started something without thinking through all the possible ways that it could fail. malcom gladwell would be so disappointed in me, especially since i was born in april and should be much more successful than i am. jimmy mcnulty didn't think about all bad stuff that would happen if he went after the baltimore drug game without reserve. he just did it. and so should i.
did i mention that you should read malcom gladwell's books?
did i mention that you should watch "the wire?"
what are you waiting for? we could have so much more to talk about if you would just do something...
(see how i just tied all those things together like that? i'm good.)
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