Imagine what you'll know

Americans and Soccer

2010-06-25T09:43:00.000-07:00

If you watch sports at all, or for that matter just turned on a TV, in the past two weeks, you’ve seen something about the World Cup. There have been all manner of issues surrounding a bunch of the teams. There’s been the implosion and nearly self-imposed boycott by the French. There was the 7-0 rout that Portugal hung on North Korea. There was the phantom call made against the Americans calling back what would have been a winning goal. And there has been article after article written about weather or not America will ever fully embrace soccer as a major sport?

For the record, the answer is “no”.

Historically, I never really liked soccer that much. I played when I was a kid, then took a brief hiatus from about 10 years old until I was about 25. I was always able to appreciate it. These guys have ball skills at a dead run that I couldn’t put together if you let me use my hands. They’re in great shape. They’re revered the world over. Yet, if you ask your average sports-loving American in a bar “What do you think about soccer?,” you’re going to get something sarcastic, rude, possibly offensive or all three for your inquiry. Why? Here’s why…

American culture is competitive. Maybe it’s competitive to a fault? Maybe it’s that competitive nature that makes this country great? Actually, it’s probably some of each. But the bottom-line is that we’re competitive. We want to win. We want to win everything…all the time. So how likely is it that a nation with that type of drive and nature is going to accept and openly embrace a competitive event where the outcome can be a tie? A few years ago, the Bengals and the Eagles ended an NFL game in a tie, neither team scoring in the sudden-death OT period. I was at that game, and fans were incensed. I was ready for Eagles fans to collaborate with Bengals fans to burn the stadium to the ground. Either team would have sooner taken a loss then a tie.

The second reason is the exceeding amount of flopping that goes on. It always cracks me up when soccer players walk past one another, exchange words, touch in passing, and then one of them mercilessly flings himself to the ground as though he just stepped on a landmine. Better still is when there is incidental contact in the lower body and the guy grabs his head like he just took a right cross from Tyson. Even being a fan of the sport, I want to tell these guys to man up and get serious.

The final reason comes down to heart. Do soccer players have it? Yes. Do them demonstrate it? Sometimes. Do you ever hear about it? No.

This year Didier Drogba, striker for the Ivory Coast, broke his forearm in a tune-up game leading up to the World Cup. He missed the opening match due to the injury. Hey then had his arm cast in a low-profile support, approved by his team, the World Cup governing body, and the opposing team to allow him to play with it on. Now keep in mind, the World Cup is like the Olympics. It’s only played once every four years. And when his coach came to him after practice the night before their second match, asking if he wanted to play the next day, what was his response? “I’d rather be on the bench.” GET FOR REAL!

A few years ago, a fella named Curt Schilling was slated to pitch in the World Series with an ankle injury that required surgery. What did he do? He had the training staff stitch the injured tendon in place and went out to do work. Missing his start wasn’t even an option. He basically had the equivalent over OTC surgery, and went out to write his place into history, while the stitches pulled with every pitch, causing him to bleed through his sock.

How about Terrell Owens playing for the Eagles a few years ago? A major knee injury after a tackle by Roy Williams not only required him to have surgery, but also led to a shift in the rules of the game of football, prohibiting horse collar tackles from then on. What did he do? He spent two weeks in a hospital bed with his leg under compression and ice to ensure that he would be able to play in the Super Bowl that same month. THAT SAME MONTH! This was an injury that comes with a 6-8 month recovery period.

Drew Brees played an AFC Championship game on a torn ACL. Steve Nash had his nose broken in a game and only came out long enough to stop the bleeding, and only that long because the refs made him. John Isner just played the longest match in tennis history through blood and cramps.

And a soccer player wants to sit the bench with a broken forearm in a cast? Umm…you do realize you’re not even allowed to use your hands, right?

Unfortunately, Drogba’s response made news all over ESPN and other sports outlets. That’s what people have heard. And while that’s not the mentality of every soccer player out there, that is what has been represented. And that’s just a level of heart and commitment that isn’t acceptable in the competitive nature of this country.

The Next Day...

2010-06-17T09:33:00.000-07:00

I woke up a little nervous. I had roughly consumed my bodyweight in alcohol the night before, and just knew that every single part of my body was going to exact it’s revenge simultaneous. I was pleasantly surprised to find that after sitting up slowly, gently moving my head back and forth to survey my competence, and finally mustering the courage to stand, that staying up as late as I could to metabolize the booze and a long cold shower helped my cause. Don’t get it twisted, I didn’t feel great, per se. But on a scale of 1-10, 1 being spritely and jovial and a 10 being millimeters away from certain death, I was hovering around a 3.

After meeting up with Cindy, Jay, Karrie, and Josh, we started slowly migrating and milling around, deciding what the day’s plan of action should be? Cindy and Jay wanted breakfast…a real one and an Egg Mc-whatever wasn’t going to do it, so we parted ways and walked slowly north to see the new City Center.

This place is amazing. Well, the City Center proper is pretty cool with it’s shops and high-end stuff that make the average person feel rather inferior. But the new accommodations at Vdara, Mandarin, and all the time-shares they have are beautiful. The property is so large that it has it’s own monorail running through it, and it’s so encompassing that once you reach the front doors, you can look up, down, wherever and have no idea that you’re still in Vegas. There are amazing restaurants, reasonably priced gambling, and overall just an amazingly manicured place to be.

After moving through the City Center, Cindy and Jay were done eating, and the rest of our group was rousing. So why not meet at the Forum Shoppes at Caeser’s? Well, the best reason is because the Forum is about three million square feet of retail space, that’s why. We would have been better served meeting up anywhere else at all. It ran akin to finding a needle in a haystack, but harder. And I have to say, for all the retail shopping you can find in Vegas, I just don’t think the Forum is worth the hype. It’s huge, overwhelming, hard to navigate, and just not all that worth it with the exception of maybe three or four stores. My particular favorite is the one that only sells high-end watches. Walking past, I felt like Odysseus being called by the Sirens. It wasn’t until I poked my head inside and saw that all employees were wearing white gloves for the handling of merchandise. Yeah, I’ll be sticking with my Fossil, thank you.

We wandered for a while, in and out of this, that, and the other, when it occurred to me that we hadn’t yet had a seat at a table…anywhere. As timing would have it, Trina and Karrie had massage appointments, so isn’t it mandatory that we sit and gamble? We certainly thought so. The dealer at O’Shea’s had other ideas. She was apparently still pissed off that someone at a Three-Card Poker table she was dealing at the night before didn’t tip after winning and decided to take out her frustrations on us. Doesn’t seem fair, but such is Vegas. At least we spent enough time between our rout and the walk back to the hotel to meet the girls as they finished their girl time, and got ready for dinner.

Ah Craft. Been there three times now, and I love it every single time. Though I have to say, I have been just a tad disappointed with their risotto the last two times. The beef ribs we unbelievable though, the potato puree was amazing, and for the first time in three visits, I saved room for dessert. It was homemade monkey bread with homemade banana-cinnamon ice cream…and it was heavenly.

I’d love to say that since we were all dressed to the 9’s that we went out and lived it up, enjoyed the casino floor in swanky fashion, gambled into the wee hours, and so on…but I was actual so tired that I was physically uncomfortable. Walking all day long in Vegas heat with a mild hangover with do that to you. So with an utter lack of gusto, we took our leave, and went to bed.

Friday, 5/7/10
Ah, Friday. Friday, historically, has been the day we go home. Not this time. We had one more full day of insanity to deal with. It was, however, the day that Josh and Karrie as well as Cindy and Jay were headed home. We’d have liked one more day with Cindy and Jay, but we knew we’d see them when we got home. Josh and Karrie, on the other hand, were going home to finish their move to Pittsburgh. Since Trina and Josh are particularly close, not to mention he’s one of my best friends, we felt we needed to get in all the time we could before they left. So at 8:30 that morning, we were headed down to the Flamingo.

The Flamingo is a place on the strip that just oozes old-school Vegas. I can’t explain exactly why, but if you’ve ever been there or go there, it’ll just make sense. But the reason we went there, specifically, was a small kiosk that we found on our last trip out called “The Pearl Factory”. As you might guess, they sell pearls and pearl jewelry. But they also have a little spot where you can pick an oyster, and open your own pearl. The last time we were there, the girl we watched open one had twin pearls in her oyster. Pretty cool, all in all. The staff “ooh-ed” and “ahh-ed” about the rarity of twins, and they also said that people who open twins either are a twin, have twins in their family, gave birth to twins, are expecting twins, or something to that effect. And while all twins don’t get twin pearls, people who aren’t, never get them. Sure enough, this girl was a twin. Of course, being a twin, we had to make Karrie do it.

Damn…just got one in there. However, it was an amazing grey pearl almost eight millimeters in diameter. As luck would have it, Trina’s was also grey and nearly as large. Apparently this was a significant phenomenon as only 7 out of 800 oysters produce grey pearls. In any event, they were lovely, and we had such a good time that the cooky lady that ran the place gave them a free oyster with another beautiful pearl. But time drew short, and we needed to get them back to the hotel to gather their things and catch their flight.

The short cab ride back to the hotel was quiet and kind of uncomfortable. We all knew that we were going to be parting ways for a while, and after years of being best friends, we knew that person wasn’t going to be there when we got home the next day. Now don’t get me wrong, Pittsburgh is an easy drive from Cincinnati. Four hours if traffic is good. But for years we’d seen each other once a week. Maybe even more often then that. To go two weeks not seeing each other was so rare it was almost regarded as something being wrong. But when we got home, they’d be gone. We all stood at the taxi stand looking at one another with reverent silence, not knowing what to do or say next? So fighting tears, we all hugged and said our good byes, not sure when we’d next see each other, but knowing the last time we got together, we lived it up in Vegas.

The Middle Leg...

2010-05-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, 5/5/10: D-Day
I woke up around 6 a.m. staring at the ceiling. Well, woke up implies that at one time, I actually fell asleep, which I don’t think I did. Half a Monster late in the evening before really kept me from achieving a true level of sleep. I think it’s more accurate to say I snapped out of my sense of grogginess. In any event, I found myself looking at the ceiling. I was looking around the room and testing motor functions in all my limbs like a spy that just came off the high of being drugged and found himself in a room, not knowing where he is. What did I expect? Wake up and be blind in one eye? One leg gone? Can’t speak? Nope. I was 29 the day before, now I was 30. Screw it…let’s go play.

Of course mom and Pat weren’t up yet. Pat was awake for about 36 hours the day before, so I didn’t expect him to see this side of consciousness for a few hours. What to do…what to do? Then I had my first “ah-ha” moment of the day. Go wake up Josh and Karrie and make them go play! Yes, that’ll do nicely. So after a little coaxing, and by coaxing I mean irritating Josh until he was awake, we all made our way to the monorail to go way north on the strip to indulge several other Vegas traditions.

We got off the monorail at the Sahara, and slowly started our walk back towards the bulk of the strip. The Sahara is kind of a depressing place. Along with the Stratosphere, it’s as far north as you can currently stay on the strip, and being all the way down there is a lot like being on the Island of Misfit Toys. Or maybe the Land that Time Forgot? Or maybe The Island of Misfit Toys that Time Forgot With Drunken Kind of Scary People That You Don’t Really Want to be Around. Yeah…it’s the last one. Nevertheless, it was just a staging point to head down to what would be one of the most important stops of the day.

The Big Hotdog is a spectacle unto itself and not to be missed. Problem was, while our stomachs were telling us it was 12:00, the clocks said 9:00, and therefore, not open yet. So we occupied ourselves next door at Circus Circus. Now, if the Sahara and Stratosphere were on the Island of Misfit toys, Circus Circus probably ranks somewhere around the bastard step-child of the strip. You gotta see it because you’re there, like buying the obligatory Christmas gift, but you’re not all that happy about it. Talk about another depressing place. However, it did offer us the opportunity to convince Karrie to have her first try at playing Blackjack. It didn’t take, and 20 minutes late she walked out pissed and muttering that she just lost $50.

At 12:01 we were standing in line like vultures waiting for our hot dogs. Now, to recap, this thing is a quarter-pound monster with whatever condiments you want on it. I suggest the chili and cheese. Josh was the first to order, getting one for himself and Karrie. I was right behind him, right behind him, ordering Trina’s and mine. How long does it take to eat one of these you ask? About as long as it took for the guy to put two in buns and hand me a rootbeer. By the time I sat down, Josh had finished his and was thinking very seriously about getting another. Did I mention that they’re a quarter-pound and I was right behind him? What’s a guy to do? Eat another one, apparently. Oh well. Put a check in the box for tradition.

On to the Wynn, via Encore. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, and I’m sure I’ll say it after this; these two places impress me every single time I’m in them. They’re immaculately clean, smell lovely, offer impressive décor, they’re just great. The only problem is, I’m not really rich enough to gamble there. No big deal, really. We were only there for drinks at Parasol Down, another tradition that earns a check in the box.

It was at this point that I was starting to get a little confused and honestly, a little annoyed. I’m a bit of a planner, so when things go awry, I get a little jumpy. Parasol Down in a favorite destination of my mom’s which is rare considering Vegas isn’t really her scene. Tired of waiting with empty glasses, we decided to head back to MGM and hit the pool. Come to find out upon our return that they were late because they were orchestrating arrivals of my friend, Aaron, and then my Aunt Cindy and her husband, Jay, all of whom made the trip to celebrate (and celebrate here having the meaning of party…hard) with us. As flattered as I was that they made the trip, it occurred to me that I actually might die tonight. I estimated a 47.2% chance.

We decided to pass the bulk of the afternoon at the pool, drinking, not eating, and sitting in the sun…all afternoon. Perhaps a bit of a rookie mistake, because the result ended up as several people in the party being sick through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Of course, should that stop us from drinking martinis at Red Square (Vegas tradition #3 for the day)? Of course not. In fact, let’s have four! And about quarter after the third was when I realized “hmm…I haven’t eaten in a solid four hours. Guess I’m drinking my dinner tonight!” Never a good realization in Vegas.

People argue that having a slight buzz loosens you up for big runs on the Blackjack tables. Two Ruskies, fine. Four Ruskies, not fine. Four Ruskies, several Bloody Mary’s, and a cheap cigar, way not fine, genuinely unhappy, walking a fine line to be a violent puking threat. Of course this is all in hindsight, which I would argue with anyone is far better then 20/20. But screw it. It’s my 30th birthday, and I’m in one of my favorite places in the known universe with a huge contingent of my favorite people. Let’s play cards-es! By the way, when you decide it’s time to play “card-es” , you’re already making poor decisions. Mandalay Bay is, in my opinion, regularly too expensive to gamble at. But next door at the Luxor, tables are cheaper and they have a pit totally designated for single-deck Blackjack. So we worked our way over to the pyramid.

This place was, for a time, one of the most impressive places on the strip. That was in the early 90’s. Then it fell into a bit of a lull, almost qualifying it for the Island of Misfit Toys. In the past few years, they have had an impressive overhaul to bring in some new blood and offer something other then just being gimmicky. Now, I can say I am honestly impressed with it again. Also, if that wasn’t enough, they offered us an impressive show of customer service. With no $10 tables to be found that would accommodate five people at once, and a $15 table sitting empty, a pit boss waved us over, making the usual casual banter common with tourists. We explained that we were all there for my birthday, and were trying to find a table where we could all sit together. Without a second thought, he took us to the empty $15 table, flipped it to $10, invited us to sit, play, and enjoy. Good form. Good form I say!

There’s a new trend sweeping Vegas lately. That trend is to put Go-Go Dancers on little stages or platforms right behind the dealers in Blackjack pits. This serves several functions; first, men most often dominate Blackjack tables, so it attracts them to those tables where the stakes are a little higher. Second, it’s a fabulous marketing tool to get those players to pay less, little, or even no attention to their cards. Casino visionaries clearly had my friend Aaron in mind when they hatched this idea. Third, it would seem their goal is to get everyone in the casino divorced. Wives can get irritated enough when their husbands are losing money. But losing it because they’re not paying attention to what they’re doing due to a girl shaking her bon-bon? Not good.

I have absolutely no idea how long we were there? None. Everyone sat down and bought in for right around $100, and shockingly, Pat was the first to reach back into his wallet for seconds. They rotated dealers in typical fashion, each one being as fun as the last. We were all drinking gambling, winning more then not, and having a grand old time. Well, everyone except Josh.

Josh has a bit of an affinity for Blackjack. He’s fundamentally sound in his play. He doesn’t offer advice without a request. He’s aggressive, but smart. He knows when to pocket winnings and leave, and he wins more often then he loses. So to be at first base, playing exactly the way you should, and having Pat just to your left betting foolish amounts of money and basically playing like a retard and winning while you lose will make anyone want to kill the guy next to him. So after getting hammered for his buy-in, then losing another $50 or so that I spotted him to keep him at the table for general table karma, I couldn’t get a word out of him when we all decided to pack it in and Pat cashed in for a pretty, lavender chip worth $500. Oh, and by the way, that chip and his change no sooner hit the table then my mother snatched it away from Pat, insuring that he didn’t play “just one more big hand”.

It was a loooooooong walk back to MGM. Ironic, I realize because it’s only caddie-corner from Luxor. I guess a lot of booze will inhibit the speed at which you walk? I read that somewhere once. I’m pretty sure I ran into some walls, stumbled into a men’s room…maybe two, thanked God there was an overpass across the strip from New York, New York to MGM, and eventually made it safely (safely having the meaning of not vomiting) and into our room. My wife, realizing that I was a puking risk, did everything she could to keep me awake enough to get to the bathroom in case such execution came to pass. A cold shower, bottle of water, and 45 minutes of sitting straight up in bed to to prohibit spinning later, I finally drifted off to sleep.

What's Better Then Being in Vegas for Your 30th?

2010-05-19T14:09:00.001-07:00

Nothing!

Well, that’s not all together true. There is absolutely no one that’s going to card you at this point, and that hurts a little bit. But if that’s as bad as it gets, then you had (are having or will have) a great trip. Here’s how mine went.

Monday, 5/3/10
After working all day, and by working I mean counting the minutes until I could leave, I was relaxing at home, casually packing my bags, thinking about what we would do and how grand it would be. Josh (franchise player for team Vegas Rules) and Karrie (unrestricted free-agent on her first trip to Sin City…hoping to sign to a long-term deal) made it in from Pennsylvania and to our place a little after 8. The idea of getting up at 4 a.m. to make a flight out of Dayton by 6 would have compelled most people to take it easy, maybe have an early nightcap, and turn in early. Not this squad. We stayed up chatting like tweenage girls about what we were going to do first, second, third….32nd, whatever.

Historically, the night before a Vegas trip has a very specific ritual; pack, eat pizza, tidy up the house, watch the movie Casino, not necessarily in that order. We broke with tradition a bit eating beef stew, relaxing on the couch, and trying to teach Karrie the ins and outs of playing Blackjack. It didn’t seem to take. Lack of interest may have played a role there. No interest in Blackjack? Hmm…well that won’t get you “franchise player” status, but a long-term deal could still be on the table.

Tuesday, 5/4/10
Up with the sun. Actually, a little before the sun. Stupid nature calling. But it occurred to me as I stumbled to the bathroom that it was a little after 5, and I never heard Josh and Karrie get up. So in a panic, I tear into the spare bedroom to get them up in what would be a vain attempt to make their flight, only to realize that they were long gone, I slept through the whole thing, and I’m an idiot. Oh well.

A quick layover in Chicago led to what felt like the longest flight to Vegas I’ve ever made. I’ve flown direct, I’ve had layovers, I’ve had lousy layovers, and this one seemed to hurt the worse. The travel time is all generally, barring a major stop somewhere, but 45 minutes at the beginning then almost four hours on the second leg just sucked. I’ll have to remember that for next time out.

We arrived in Vegas and got checked in just in time to make a quick run through ‘wichcraft for a sandwich to get some juice for the rest of the evening. It was only about 4 in Vegas when we arrived, so the whole city was just getting warmed up. So a quick roast beef sandwich was the ideal rejuvenation to head across the street to kickoff the trip in a traditional fashion…a drink at Nine Fine Irishmen. I dutifully choked down a pint of Guinness, wishing I hadn’t, but knowing that it was requisite for the trip, then headed out to the casino floor to see what there was to see. And by see what there was to see, I mean gamble.

Over the course of my last trip west, I started to learn craps. Since there were no Blackjack tables that would accommodate us, why not find a table and throw some dice? Only problem was neither Pat nor Josh had a great deal of experience, if any at all, with the game. Solution to the problem? Just do what I tell you and you’ll learn on the fly. Ordinarily, this is a TERRIBLE method of gambling. But unlike other games, what you do or don’t do playing craps won’t affect anyone else’s bets. Perfect. The ladies took their leave to walk around the casino while Pat, Josh, and I settled in to play.

We played for probably 45 minutes or so, Pat and Josh trying to absorb whatever they could. Pat, God bless his Irish soul, lost just about everything he bought in for, by outkicking his coverage and making bets he didn’t understand which were all low-percentage with a high payoff. Josh won a little, making his first craps experience a positive one, particularly when he made passes on three different point numbers. I won about $75 or so, suggesting positive mojo for the rest of the trip, and discovered that playing the come line doesn’t make a whole lot of sense when you could just as easily, and more quickly make place bets. Gonna have to put that piece of knowledge to work later in the trip.

Now a choice had to be made; call it an early night and party hard tomorrow, or walk the strip, take in some sights, do some more gambling, and rely on energy drinks to party hard tomorrow? If you can’t figure out what the right choice is, you’ve never been to Vegas.

Walking the strip at sunset it a really cool time to be out. The sky fades from reddish to purplish to black, and the lights on everything surrounding you just get more and more prominent as time wears on. We made our way north walking as though we had purpose, but not really knowing where we were going. Of course, in the back of our minds, we knew we were heading for O’Shea’s, another staple of every single Vegas trip.

There are a number of reasons I like gambling at O’Shea’s. First, historically, I’ve had very good luck there. Second, they don’t have continuous shuffle machines. Third, they mix good drinks. (Sidenote: Vegas is the only place in the world where my drink of choice automatically becomes Bloody Mary’s. No idea why?) Fourth, they have a lot of Blackjack tables. Fifth, it’s cheap to play there. As I’ve always said in blogs passed, I don’t mind betting $15+ a hand, but I don’t want to have to. Ultimately, it’s just very user-friendly. So all things considered, after playing for a good solid hour, drinking their booze, buying three totally overpriced cigars, and still walking out $60 to the good, that makes a good night so far as I’m concerned. Also, this particular gambling session cemented why my stepfather is quite possibly the worst gambler I’ve ever seen. In the middle of a run of cards that was mediocre at best, mom decided she was done for the night, and gave Pat the signal that it was time to pack it in. A day of traveling will take it out of anyone. But down about $40 for the session with $60 left in front of him, upon hearing it was time to go, Pat feels it’s in his best interests to just bet the rest of what he has on the next hand. Did I mention the cards were only barely mediocre at this point? And what happens? Of course he lost. While Josh and I, the resident gamblers on scene where confused as to why he didn’t just cash out and leave, Mom was confounded by this decision and let him know about it.

We didn’t stay much longer, cashing out for a small profit. The four of us took our time walking back to MGM, which isn’t exactly close to O’Shea’s. But it gave us time to laugh and joke and talk about what we wanted to do over the rest of the trip. Also, it gave us the opportunity to stop and watch a few shows, courtesy of the Bellagio fountains as well as watch Josh pretend he wasn’t drunk as he tripped over a trash can while walking in a straight line. Good times. Tomorrow would be better.

The Run...

2010-04-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning, we figured we were going to do something else that we’d never done before. We were going to have breakfast at the buffet in Bellagio. This was undiscovered country, and something that The Travel Channel will hype anytime you see something about Vegas. Make no mistake about it, it was an impressive spread and the quality of the food was pretty high. But if you were to ask me to put together a list of things to see and do in Vegas, this isn’t cracking my top 10.

Sunday was also the first time in the trip that Trina was going to have to be present for the conference (the real reason we even made it out there) and I was going to have to fly solo for a little while. Now, I’ve made this point before and I know I’ll make it again. Being by yourself in Vegas, assuming you’re not a raging alcoholic and/or have a huge bankroll, can be kind of boring. Why? Playing blackjack at a table with a bunch of strangers can be hit or miss. Maybe they know a little about the game, like to B.S. between hands, and are jovial? Maybe they’re a-holes with Forrest Gump-ian I.Q.’s who don’t care about being there? Or maybe you even feel compelled to sit at a table alone and play cards. This is maybe one of the most dangerous situations of all. Blackjack is a game of streaks. If you sit down and the table is instantly hot (unlikely to the point that I question this event ever happening) you’re fine. If the table’s cold, you getting your clock cleaned and can’t tread water long enough to wait for it to heat up. Glad I found an interest in craps.

Here’s the other key reason it’s not a whole lot of fun to be by yourself in Vegas; the people watching. People dressed at Rick James, a Storm Trooper, someone who painted himself silver and it walking around with a construction cone on his head, a 350 pounder squeezed into an extra-medium shirt with a Pomeranian on a leash who keeps introducing himself as Catwoman, and more folks on a never ending list populate the streets of Vegas. What are you going to do, make insightfully sarcastic comments to yourself?

Wild Bill’s Gambling hall is tucked on a corner opposite Caesar’s and Bellagio. Also, it’s cheap. And, is that the sound of a rowdy and happy craps table? I figured I got my legs the day before, so why not try again? Up a little, down a little, so on and so forth, and round and round it went, until a little old lady, clearly the oldest person in the building, took the dice, and proceeded to tear it up. This woman put on a clinic of how to make your points. Over and over again she threw those dice, until what must have been easily a half hour later, she finally seven-ed out. I’ve never seen a table of any kind, anywhere, ever clear out so fast. Still being novice to the game, I figured it would probably be best to take my leave as well, and so I did…about $100 to the good. That was, at least until I went back to Bellagio and got torched for $110. But what the hell, I played for almost two hours, drank the casino’s booze, had a good time, and it only cost me $10, bringing me to -$90 for the whole trip.

Trina was done with work and the conversation moved quickly to where we were going to eat dinner. Actually, it was an impressively short conversation, as we both wanted to go to Craft in MGM. Problem was, it was a busy weekend, and we had no reservations. Hmmm…worth a try? So we got there around 4:30, about a half hour before seating began just to see what our chances were. Without thinking twice, they offered us a table for two at 5:30. Well thank you very much! We’ll be back right after I walk through the shopping promenade and try on a $12,000 watch. What’s that? 30% off? Oh, so it’s only $8,400? Well that’s a steal. I’ll take two.

If the buffet at Bellagio doesn’t crack the top 10 things do to in Vegas, then by contrast, eating at Craft is probably in the top 5. I can still remember the debate I had the first time I was there; surf and turf, or beef ribs braised for 24 hours? I went surf and turf that time, so beef ribs it was. Incidentally, how low do you have cook something, anything for that matter, at to cook it for 24 hours? About 90 degrees? But now I had a new problem. How does one eat ribs in a fine dining establishment? It was a moot point really, since they had removed the bone prior to serving. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as tender, tasty, and overall as pleasing anywhere else at any other time in my life.

Monday came too soon. Trina had to be up and going by 8:30 to be set for the conference by 9. My flight wasn’t out until a little after 11. What to do, what to do? Time to make a run…

Here’s what I’ve found to be true of runs; first, they don’t happen very often. Actually, that’s not totally true. They happen intermittently, but you usually don’t notice at the time. They don’t usually last long. They make you greedy. They make your feel invulnerable, like you can make it happen whenever you want. The key to capitalizing on runs is that you have to be able to get your money off the table and back into your pocket before you feel the need to test weather or not the run is over. By the time you do that, you’ve given it back, and maybe reached into your pocket for seconds.

There was only one craps table open at 9 a.m. on Monday morning so needless to say, it wasn’t crowded. There were only a few guys playing, and after playing at crowded tables the past few days, I was appreciative that there was elbowroom. So I put my money down, got chips, and laid some money on the pass line. Winning on the come out roll just seems to inspire good mojo. So I played on, up a little then down a little and keeping an eye on my watch so as not to screw up my travel plans.

Here’s the other thing I learned about craps; it doesn’t have to be expensive. You can just bet the table minimum on the pass or come lines, never back your bet, and keep your losses pretty minimal. If someone’s making passes over and over again, you could have your money on the pass line for several minutes pretty easily without winning or losing anything. But if you enjoy gambling, all that waiting will start to make you antsy. So you put a bet on the come line too. Then maybe you back that come point. Still nothing? Okay, so maybe you throw a place bet out there too. All of a sudden, you’ve done what I did; you have $70 in various bets out on the table before you’ve realized it and you’re hoping like all hell that a seven does come up and wipe out every single bet you have out. And, maybe like me, you backed a ten point harder then you backed an eight, and ended up kicking yourself for making that choice.

Then something really cool happened. The shooter made his ten point. So the little mathematical ballet that occurs when points are made took place, and there were more chips in front of me. All of a sudden the heavily backed ten didn’t seem so bad when it paid off at 3/2 odds. And then, why not throw an eight and pay me on my come bet? Well thank you very much. And before I could get another come bet down, sure, go ahead and throw a six and pay my place bet. Wouldn’t it figure the next roll was a seven? Lesson learned; pay attention to how much you have out on the table.

Time passed that way. Someone made a point, them a come point, won them both, then seven-ed out. I didn’t know how much I’d won. I just knew that I had more chips then when I got started, so I figured I had to be up. But time grew short, and there was a flight to catch, so I pushed everything to the middle to color up. Apparently, I paid no attention at all to what they were paying me because there were a few green chips at $25 a pop hiding under the red $5’s and white $1’s. A little quick math and the boxman pushes me two black chips (the ones that make me feel really important) for $100 each, three greens (which I’m getting more accustomed to), a red one (nothing new about those), and a white one (which generally become souvenirs). $281 for the morning, minus the $80 pounding I took the first night, minus the $80 I bought in for, minus the $1 chip souvenir, and minus $10 or so that I’m sure I lost on some stupid bet in the past few days, and I ended up a little more then $100 to the good for the trip. Works for me, now get me a cab to the airport before I do something stupid.

The ride to the airport was quiet. The driver barely spoke English, and I was all by myself. Turns out, all things considered, I don’t really like traveling alone. It’s quicker, no doubt, but just not as much fun. There was no one to talk with about the run I just had, the meal we ate the night before, the impressive features of the new City Center. There was no one to talk about what we would do the next time we made it out there. Of course, we wouldn’t have to wait long. We’d be going back again in about six weeks.

Turns Out I Like Craps...

2010-04-05T13:46:00.001-07:00

Ever been in the Wynn? How about Encore? They’re ultimately the same property, connected by a long, beautifully decorated corridor that runs between the two buildings. I’ve been in both buildings several times now, and I’m still impressed every single time I walk it. However, they both smack of money. If you want to see successful men in the mid-50’s named Hoyt and Lleyton talking about how they dominated the Yale-ies when they used to crew, then Wynn is probably the place for you. Need more proof? On a Saturday morning a little after 10 a.m. they had blackjack tables (not in a high roller salon mind you) with minimum bets at $100 a pop. My point is, this is NOT the place you’d expect two people, dressed very casually in shorts, with a nominal buy-in to be made to feel welcome gambling. And if you made that assessment, like I did, you’d be dead wrong, like I was.

We were happily welcomed to the table, greeted with smiles, and immediately set at ease. Craps is an intimidating game to walk up on when you’ve never played. There’s a lot going on, and a lot you can bet on. The dealers and stickmen took every ounce of anxiety away instantly. I could write about the rules, bets, odds, and so on for a stupid amount of time. How you play is up to you. Just know this; when you win, they pay you. When you lose, they take your money away. Unlike blackjack, your play doesn’t influence anyone else’s outcome. And considering it’s a very social game, everyone is happy when the shooter is rolling well. What’s funny is that people encourage you to “stay hot” or “shoot this” or “roll that” as if you have a choice.

Here’s what I learned about craps: unless you “seven out” you do NOT surrender your roll. It’s your choice to up and leave whenever you want. However, to do something like quit rolling because the outdoor patio that you and your wife enjoy having cocktails at is opening up will probably cause a riot. Think I’m kidding? Ask the table I nearly walked away from after making 20 minutes worth of points in a row. Everyone was making money, apparently a fair amount of it, as long as I didn’t seven out. And in retrospect, so long as you don’t seven out, you, as the shooter, are at least breaking even. So there’s really no point in stopping.

After a nice rally that earned me a few handshakes, we headed for Parasol Down. This place might be one of the better-kept secrets in Vegas. I’d never heard of acai until this particular trip, when we ordered drinks called “Kiwi Acai Smash”-es. Now, I see it everywhere as the newest all-natural weight loss facilitator. And since we were at the north end of the strip, what better thing to stop and have then a big hotdog? Nothing! That’s what.

Now for the moment of truth. We had decided in advance that we were going to do something that we had said we wanted to do since our first trip out, and never have managed to get around to doing. We were going to visit one of the big-time casinos off the strip. But where to go? The Hard Rock was a straight shot down the street that Planet Hollywood sat on. But the cabbie we had on the way in said that The Palms was cooler. Not to mention, Rio is over by The Palms as well. So we walked, and walked…and walked some more, finally finding ourselves at the southwest corner of Caesar’s Palace. We looked to our right, and it was right there. But for some reason, we decided we didn’t feel like walking it, even though we had ample time and no where to be. Probably a good call, because it ended up being about a two-mile cab ride.

The Palms was a remarkably underwhelming place. All the cool stuff you see on Vegas insiders shows or The Real World is either not available to the general public, doesn’t open until at least 9 (it was about 2), and has a ridiculous cover charge, not to mention a strictly uncomfortable dress code. Not waiting, not paying, not dressing.

Rio was more of the same. It wasn’t a bad place, but all things considered, if you’re going somewhere off the strip to party, you’re probably not going there. The nice thing about the Rio, however, was that they had a free shuttle that ran to Paris, which was right next to Planet Hollywood.

We had dinner out on the patio at Mon Ami Gabi that night in Paris, right across from the Bellagio fountains. I’ve always wondered why there’s so little outdoor seating facing the majesty of the strip in Vegas. Now I know. People gun their engines, rev a bullet bike, yell, shout, get drunk and fall down, all a bunch of things that you don’t want to deal with when you’re sitting at a nice restaurant. If you look around, nearly any hotel that has outdoor seating has all of it built internally to the property to avoid things like that.

God love my wife who was winding down for the night, not to mention had to work the next morning, sensed my jitters, and was nice enough to go with me to the casino floor, as long as we didn’t have to walk too far and weren’t there too long. I was taken by the desire to play at Bellagio. Why? Because it was right across the street, and I’d never gambled there before. So we went and found room at a craps table.

The dice came to me, I made a point, and started rolling. It was a pretty nice little run. I wasn’t throwing everything for strikes, but people we making money, karma was high, and all was well. Then this guy comes to the table and stands just to my right with two guys that were there before me. He puts down his player’s card, looks as the box man, and says “$2,500 please”. And just like that, no ID, no conversation, no nothing, they hand him over an assload of chips. He then looks at his friends and says “So, is this guy hot?” They nod, indicating that I’d been lucky so far, and he proceeds to reach down and put $100 on the come line. I rolled an 8, and he backed his $100 with $300 more. Thank God I made a point. He might have killed me…swear to God.

It's RIGHT THERE!

2010-04-01T14:37:00.000-07:00

It’s right there! We knew better. We’ve been to Vegas before. We know nothing is ever right there. It looks like it’s right there, but it’s actually in a galaxy far, far away. Okay, so that’s not true either. But saying that it’s right there became the tagline for this trip.

Trina was fortunate enough to go to a conference in the City of Sin for work, so we figured if flights were reasonable, why not fly out and spend a long weekend? Well, that was the first problem; flights were not at all reasonable. Thankfully, my dad had some SkyMiles to spare, so for a $20 processing fee, I was all set for a flight direct from Cincy to Vegas and back.

Poor Trina had to be up around 4 a.m. to get to the Dayton airport, while I got an extra two hours of sleep to fly out of Cincinnati at 9. Of course, I would just so happen to leave my phone, and subsequently my alarm clock, in the living room, and just happened to wake up a half-hour later then I planned to. So in a whirlwind of activity, I got myself together and bolted to the airport. Turns out one person carrying everything on can blaze through security and get to a gate in no time flat. But I was concerned that this was fate suggesting that I tread lightly and not press my luck too hard gambling.

A few hours later, we were on final approach to land at McCarren, and I just didn’t have quite the same rush that I tend to have when landing in Vegas. Maybe it’s because this was going to be a different kind of Vegas experience? It was just the two of us, with no one else to entertain or anyone else’s needs to satisfy. Maybe it was because we were going to be coming back again in about five weeks for my birthday? Or maybe it was the fates telling me again to be very, very careful about where I lay my money down.

I found Trina at the baggage carousel and we made our way to the taxi stand where we were immediately greeted by people packed into lines for cabs like cattle, immediately reminding me why we avoid doing Vegas on the weekends whenever possible. But this weekend was particularly tough as it was the first weekend of the NCAA tournament, hence the exorbitant prices. But with a remarkable level of efficiency, the staff moved people through the line and we found ourselves in a cab on the way to Planet Hollywood. Oh, by the way, not only was it the first weekend of the tournament, it was also Spring Break. No wonder the place was so mobbed.

After getting checked in and freshening up, we made our way down the strip to Mandalay Bay for lunch at the Burger Bar, a staple for all of our Vegas excursions. We were greeted by two prissy little hostesses who thought they were miles more attractive then they actually were, who told us we were looking at a 30-minute wait to be seated. Did I mention that it was 11:30 a.m.? Anyway, we waited, and waited, and waited, and just when we were about to tap out, the called for us. Now, two things to mention about this place; first, I’ve never waited more then about two minutes to be seated. Second, while the food is good, the service is usually pretty slow. Thankfully our waitress hustled her tail off and not only was the food excellent, it was very quick.

We milled around a bit, eventually finding out way back to our hotel, which was impressively equipped to handle the massive influx of both conventioneers, and the may lay of drunken basketball enthusiasts who’s goal in life was to watch as many games as they possibly could, all at one time. But time, travel, and lack of sleep caught up to Trina, and she was ready to cash it in by about 8. Not a problem. I was feeling antsy anyways, so why not capitalize on the opportunity to hit the tables?

After getting the lay of the land, I had a seat at a $10 table with a bunch of guys that were apparently irritated about the day’s upsets in the bracket. They were surly, irritable, didn’t want to talk to anyone, including each other, and just generally bad for table karma. And as soon as the first hand was dealt, the pit boss flips a switch to make the table $15 a hand to all new players. (Get up! Get out of there! Nothing good can come from this!) Six hands, $80 gone, didn’t so much as push a single hand. Screw it. You can’t force these things. Time to call it a night.

There are not many things that are so cool and so cheap to do in Vegas as watch the sunrise. And if you’re from the Eastern Time zone, it’s very easy. Just wake up and crack your blinds. And Saturday morning looking clear and sunny, why not break out the shorts and a polo shirt? Because walking down the strip with massive monolith hotels putting mass between you and sun while casting massive shadows will make you cold! That’s why not. Oh well. Pressing on…

We stopped in Paris to grab some breakfast to go, and kept heading north. The plan was to have a Big Hot Dog (Slots of Fun) and drinks at Parasol Down (Wynn), both Vegas vacation staples. We arrived at the Wynn a bit early and had some time to kill, so we toured the small shops that were opening and stopped in Belts, Bags, and Baubles in the Wynn lobby. What better way to kill time then to try on hats that cost $1200? But where else can you do things like that without people looking at you like you have no business being in the store? Nowhere! That’s where.

his was the first time the “it’s right there” joke started kicking in. We decided to walk through the connecting halls from Wynn to Encore. Now, to look at them from the outside, you’d say they were adjacent. 15 minutes of walking the internal structure of that place would beg to differ. It turned out to be totally worth it though, when we made it to Encore’s casino floor, and for the first time ever, I made my way to a craps table.

Season 10: Elimination 1

2010-03-31T10:46:00.000-07:00

Interesting events have transpired in the second week of this season of Dancing With the Stars, to include a near fistfight. Can’t imagine who could have brought THAT much drama to the show? Let’s break it down.

Shannen Doherty danced a jive to follow last week’s waltz. It was okay, not great. But it was about on par for someone who’s never had professional training and had a week to learn. She did all right.

Buzz Aldrin: American Hero. That’s how I’m going to refer to him from now on in this blog. He was a little stiff, a little ridged, he postures were not so great…the man is 80! I thought he was great considering the whole, lack-of-youth thing.

Aiden Turner did a little better this week. His foxtrot was a little choppy and kind of lackluster. He looks uncomfortable, like he’s forcing his chin up and shoulders back to the point where he’s almost looking straight up. Aiden fans get your fill now. He’s only going to be around by default.

Niecy Nash turned in a very nice foxtrot this week. I think that she wasn’t sure how seriously to take this competition a week ago, and has now realized that people, even the stars on this show, are for real. They want to enjoy it, but they all still want to win. She scored right in the middle of the pack, but unlike Aiden, she should probably be around for a little longer then default votes.

Evan Lysacek looked pretty good, but there’s still something uncomfortable about the way he moves? In any event, I still think there’s a lack of connection between himself and his partner, and that’s going to end up being their undoing.

Jake Pavelka…well, I still think he’s a dork, and I still don’t like “The Bacholer”. But from a dancing standpoint, he did pretty well. I still think he’s sorting out a level of comfort balancing his fiancée, or whatever she is at this point, and the time he’s spending with his rather attractive dance partner. One of the highlights of the week was when he said “no Chelsea, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you…we’re not doing that” whatever move it was. And that was promptly met by her telling him “tough shit, I’m the pro here.” Atta girl.

Erin Andrews looked very good, although having her hair up does nothing for her. Her behind the scenes stuff with Maks are going to prove to be entertaining. However, for a woman who looks so elegant, she has kind of masculine motions when she’s not moving in holds. If she irons that out, I think she’ll be dangerous long-term.

Chad…poor Chad. Chad did not look so good. He looked uncomfortable and his posture was really bad throughout the whole routine. What really impressed me though, was that when taking pretty poignant criticism from all three judges, he kept his mouth shut and listened. He knew he didn’t do well, and though never at a loss for words, buttoned up and listened to the experts. He’s not done yet.

Pamela Anderson did a very nice foxtrot with a great homage to Marilyn Monroe. She wasn’t the over-the-top sexpot we’ve seen in the past. She was elegant and graceful, and the judge’s marks, while they could have been a little higher, showed it. She still ended up in the bottom two, though, conclusively demonstrating that her “target audience” clearly doesn’t watch this show.

Kate Gosselin…what a bitch. Usually partners don’t start arguing until week four or five at least. Nope, not Kate. Week two was long enough to wait, complaining, arguing, generally not listening, critiquing Tony on his teachings, etc. Tony is a world champion. He’s taught world champions. He’s taught teachers how to teach world champions. Translation: SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO HIM! Hey, if the show was “How to be a money-seeking media whore” I’m sure he’d listen to you. And apparently, what was shown on TV wasn’t half as bad as the fight actually got. Rumor has it, she started barking at the producers demanding Tony be fired. Woman, get for real.

Nicole Scherzinger was just awesome. With two “10’s” from Carrie Ann and Bruno, and an “8” from Len, she just blew away the competition. Len’s only real critique was that he wanted to see a jive that was a little more classic. This might have been exactly what he got if the producers didn’t change the music on Derek. That said she still blew it up. I think she’s going to have to go down to injury before anyone else really has a shot.

In the end, it was Shannen that received the dubious honor of joining the loser’s club, proving that almost 20 years later, everyone still hates Brenda. However, Kate, Aiden, and Buzz Aldrin: American Hero are sleeping with angels.

Season 10 Baby!

2010-03-23T12:27:00.000-07:00

Luck shone good fortune upon me. The Gambling gods were kind in my first experiences with craps, and I was lucky enough to be near a TV to watch the opening night of Dancing With the Stars. Yes, that’s right, I care so little about anything relating to NCAA basketball that I watched DWTS. Let the “you know how I know you’re gay?” jokes begin. And while we’re at it, let the handicapping of the field begin…

Chad Johnson (I just can’t call him Ochocinco): Chad looked pretty good. He and Cheryl “Spins-too-Much” Burke did themselves a nice little Cha-Cha-Cha and scored an 18. The crowd wasn’t thrilled with three 6’s, but it’s the first week. As I’ve said before, football players have done very well in this contest, one of them having won with Cheryl in the past. I’m betting we see him deep into the contest. (Side note: Can you imagine the ass-whoopin’ this guy is going to take when camp starts back up?)

Shannen Doherty: She was okay, but I gotta tell ya, she was looking a little hefty. She kept gushing about doing this for her father who’s recently had a pretty major stroke, but I hope he’s not pinning his hopes and dreams on her bringing home a Mirror Ball Trophy. She wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t much more then “just okay”. Too bad too…I really like Mark Balas.

Evan Lysacek: He looks good. He’s going to be a strong competitor. Right now, his biggest issue is probably his partner. Anyone notice what she said to him when they showed their first meeting? Basically she told him how he stole the gold medal from her countryman. I don’t care if you’re kidding or not. Don’t be a bitch. And then after they danced and Brooke Burke was complimenting Evan, Anna took the that opportunity to say “we haven’t seen everyone dance yet, so we’re not sure how well we’re actually doing.” Again, don’t be a bitch. Is it any wonder that Burno and Len said they needed to work on their chemistry? Can someone PLEASE get Julianne Hough on the phone?

Jake Pavelka: This guy is already starting in a hole in my book. I don’t like the show “The Bacholer”. It’s always the same. He picks the wrong girl. We get it. Anyway, for the first time in three seasons now, Chelsea Hightower came off like a little snot, while Jake’s fiancée was sitting in the front row forcing an uncomfortable and territorial smile at them as they danced. He was pretty decent. He’ll probably be around past the halfway mark.

Erin Andrews: She looked pretty good…literally, and dancing-wise. She and Maks make one good-looking couple out there. (See my previous DWTS blog for comments on Maks) The only thing that may hurt her is not a whole lot of people know who she is, so she may lose out on the fan vote.

Buzz Aldrin: God bless Buzz for trying at 80 years old. Too bad he’s easily the worst one. Personally, I think he should be grandfathered straight to week three. If there was a DWTS: Seniors Edition, he’d kick ass. As it is, I’m afraid he won’t be around too long. But give the guy credit; he probably has grandkids older then his partner.

Niecy Nash: The woman snarffed down a cheeseburger before she went on stage for crying out loud. And she’s definitely the only competitor to go on that show and say “I don’t want to lose weight while I’m here.” Are you kidding me?

Aiden Turner: I’m comfortable enough with myself to say when a guy is attractive, and I guess he’s not bad looking. But when you introduce yourself and say “I’m probably best known for being a heart-throb” on whatever soap opera he’s on, you kinda sound like an ass. Not that I’m worried about it because I don’t think he’ll be around too long.

Kate Gosselin: I hear Webster’s is going to make “Gosselin” and entry. It will read like this; Gosselin (GOSS-lin) 1. a no-talent ass clown 2. a media whore 3. an opportunist. True story. I can’t stand this woman. For the record, I don’t think much of her now ex-husband either. I hope she doesn’t last long, but she should make it a few weeks just by default. But if she tripped and fell on live TV, I wouldn’t be too upset about it.

Pamela Anderson: I gotta say, Pam still looks pretty darn good. Her dancing wasn’t too bad either. She looked like she was right on the edge of being out of control, but never seemed to go past that point. And she has two secret weapons; the “Hot Chick Corollary” and the “Rookie Bonus”. (See previous DWTS blogs for explanation) I think she could do some damage.

Nicole Scherzinger: Wow…that’s a pretty lady right there. Now, a lot of people think it’s unfair for her to be in this competition because choreography is a part of her job. Others think that this is an entirely different style of dance, all together. I think both parties are right, but she certainly has an edge. Not to mention she’s dancing with Derek, who probably has the biggest fan base of any male dancer on that show.

Right now, I think it’s a two-horse race between Nicole and Evan. At this point, everyone else is playing for third.

Scores of Scores

2010-03-09T08:02:00.000-08:00

I watched the Academy Awards this past Sunday, and all too often I found myself saying aloud “Wow, that’s a really pretty women to wear such an ugly dress?” Seemed to happen a lot. I just don’t get “fashion”. Anyway, one of my favorite categories is “Best Original Score”. This year, the winner was the score from “Up” by Michael Giacchino. Well done.

I love movie scores. To clarify the difference between scores and soundtracks; soundtracks have songs with words, scores generally do not. Most people appreciate scores weather they realize it or not. If you’ve ever seen any behind the scenes stuff on movies being made and seen epic scenes without the score attached to it, everything is lost. Well, maybe not everything, but a great deal. The score ties everything together in a solid and emotive way.

The American Film Institute has a list of the top 25 scores of all time. It’s a good list to be sure, but like so many films on any of AFI’s lists, they’re mostly from movies that a lot of people have never seen. Well, at least a lot of people around my age (give or take a decade) have never seen.

Here then, are two lists I am offering for consideration. I’m going to pick what I think are the ten best overall scores from any movie I can think of, and I’m also going to pick what I would consider to be some of the most recognizable pieces of music from a movie score.

10. The Power of One by Hans Zimmer. This is one of the rare cases where there are some words in the score.
9. Driving Miss Daisy by Hans Zimmer.
8. Jurassic Park by John Williams.
7. E.T. by John Williams.
6. Star Trek by Michael Giacchino. Glad he won for “Up” this year, because he sure got snubbed with Start Trek not at least getting nominated.
5 Indiana Jones by John Williams.
4. Jaws by John Williams. He just owns this category, doesn’t he?
3. Schindler’s List by John Williams and Itzhak Perlman. John, just stop it already.
2. Star Wars by John Williams…yes, again.
1. Titanic by James Horner. This movie is a little over two hours long, and there is wonderful orchestral music playing the entire time.

My wife will disagree with me. She’ll insist that Star Wars should be in the top spot, but she’s somewhat biased. But for quality and duration, I just don’t think you can beat Titanic.

The best individual pieces of music, on the other hand, may or may not be on the list of best scores. What I was going with here are the single most emotive pieces of music that I can recall ever having seen in a movie. It’s the piece of music that makes your eyes widen as you watch the movie.

5. The Launch from Armageddon by Trevor Rabin. This might be one of my favorite pieces of music from anything, ever.
4. Arrival to Earth from Transformers by Steve Jablonski. Very impressive.
3.The Imperial March from Star Wars by John Williams. This was a close call with the Star Wars theme. But you only really hear the theme at the beginning and the end. You hear the Imperial March throughout the movies, and it’s always kind of chilling. You know that shiny guy with the funny powers and James Earl Jones’ voice is coming.
2. Leaving Southampton from Titanic by James Horner. It’s just beautiful.
1. The theme to Jaws by John Williams. I don’t care if you’ve never seen the movie. I don’t care if you’re sitting in an inflatable wading pool in the backyard of your suburban house in the Midwest, nowhere near a body of water. You hear that music, you will hop yourself right out of the water…Guaranteed.

Just when I think I'm out...

2010-03-03T13:21:00.000-08:00

I said after last season of Dancing With the Stars that unless they either re-vamped the judging criteria to allow the judges’ opinions to carry more weight late in the season, or got some really impressive contestants, that I was pretty much done with the show. Yes, I’m still irritated that Donny Osmond won. Anyone who watched that show with full mental clarity could tell that he wasn’t the best celebrity turned dancer on the show. That said, I guess someone, somewhere felt my pain because while the scoring may still be the same, at least they came strong with some cool contestants.

That said, here they are;

Aiden Turner: Male soap opera stars have done well on this show. Just ask Cameron Matheson. He’s got a following of people who know who he is from his daytime exploits, and which are probably a similar contingent of people who watch DWTS. He’s dancing with Edyta Sliwinska who’s the only pro to have been on every single season thus far. Incidentally, she was the one who danced with Cameron when he was on. He’ll probably be around for at least a little while.

Buzz Aldrin: If you don’t know who he is, get your bum-ass back to high school, or even grade school, history class. This guy was famous more then 10 years before his partner was even born. Speaking of his partner, he’ll be dancing with Ashley Costa, who hasn’t been on the show for a few seasons now. Older guys don’t generally do well on this show. Just ask Tom DeLay. I don’t expect he’ll be around too long, but he’s still one hell of a model American!

Chad Ochocino: He’s in great shape, agile, knows good footwork, coordinated. I’ve always been a fan of Chad’s and as long as he can keep his head right and not screw around, I think he’ll be dangerous. He’s dancing with Cheryl “I-Tend-To-Spin-Too-Much-And-Outdance-My-Partner” so we’ll see how that works. Not only has she won this thing before, but football players have a strong track record here, including Cheryl’s partner for her repeat win, Emmitt Smith.

Erin Andrews: Erin’s an ESPN correspondent who probably gained the bulk of her notoriety a few years ago when someone managed to videotape her naked in a hotel room. But she does have the Hot-Chick corollary working in her favor. A refresher, randomly hot women tend to do well in this show. The outlying variable, Kathy Ireland who might as well have tripped, fallen, and used ethnic slurs. She’s dancing with Maksim Chmerkovskiy who has a tendency to be a little hot tempered and impatient, but her knows his stuff. Sidenote; A few years ago when he was slated to dance with AVP star Misty May, my wife and I saw him live and in person at an AVP event in Cincinnati. And with an unblemished record of heterosexuality, I can say yes, he is every bit as good looking in real life as he is on TV.

Evan Lysacek: Come on now, this isn’t even fair. He just won a gold medal so everyone knows who he is, and he’s a figure skater! Didn’t we learn enough from the year Kristi Yamaguchi made everyone else look like children from week one? I guess the producers went to Anna Trebunskaya and said “Hey, sorry about putting you with Chuck Liddel. Here’s a slam dunk.” Look for this guy to be in the finals if not just outright smoke everyone.

Jake Pavelka: I’m really sick of the show “The Bachelor”. More then that, I’m tired of people complaining about how the guy in question always picks the wrong girl citing rationales like “she’s just on here for publicity” or “she just wants his money” or whatever. These women are on a reality TV show to find a husband. Are you at all surprised about their character? He’ll be paired with Chelsie Hightower who’s proven to be a very talented addition to the cast of pros in the past two seasons.

Kate Gosselin: As if she wasn’t overexposed enough already. I’m pretty sure there’s not a person left in the country that can stomach this woman? I’m pretty sure even her kids will have to change their last names to make anything of themselves later in life. She’ll be with Tony Dovolani, which is too bad, because I really like him, but would love to see her trip and fall down the steps the first week. It could be an Allstate commercial..."life comes at you fast." There you go Kate. There's your next payday.

Nicole Scherzinger: The lead singer of the Pussycat Dolls, she can sing, dance, understands choreography, and she has the Hot-Chick corollary in her favor as well. She’ll be dancing with Derek Hough, quite possibly the most popular male dancer on the show. He’s got experience, and has won this thing before, so look for her to challenge Evan late in the season. Sidenote; Derek has now been paired with Shannon Elizabeth, Joanna Krupa, and now Nicole Scherzinger. Think he loves his job?

Nicey Nash: You know her from Reno: 911 and Clean House. But she’s got the Melissa Jarret-Winoker thing working against her; bigger people, particularly women, no matter how well they learn the techniques, never look as good doing them as the long and lean people. She’s with Louis Van Amstel who worked wonders with Kelly Osbourne, so maybe he can pull another rabbit out of his hat?

Pamela Anderson: Don’t know who she is? Apparently you’ve been living under a rock, in a cave, with your eyes closed, and your fingers in your ears…for more then 10 years now. Again, Hot-Chick corollary in her favor, not to mention a huge fan base. Of course, the bulk of that fan base is male, so that might prove to be a wash. She’s paired with Damian Whitewood, who I think is a rookie this season. Rookies, though, tend to have reasonable levels of success. She’ll hang around a while I’m willing to bet.

Shannon Doherty: The whole “I hate Brenda” movement was what, 15+ years ago now? In her pictures, she still looks like she just sucked on a lemon and got kicked in the shin. I have no idea how to handicap this one? She’ll be with Mark Balas, who also has some experience having won this contest before. So we’ll have to wait and see what they can do.

Other additions and departures: Co-host Samantha Harris will not be backstage interviewing the contestants this season. Instead, two-time realty show runner-up Melissa Rycroft will be working with Tom Bergeron. What? Too soon to make “second place” comments about Melissa? Well, too bad because she annoys me. Also, it would appear that Lacey Schwimmer, the self-proclaimed bad girl of the ballroom, will not be a professional on this season’s contest. I wish I could say I was more upset about that. Can someone get Julianne Hough on the phone please?

The new season starts March 22nd.

Etiquette...

2010-02-04T07:53:00.001-08:00

Ever seen “Fight Club”? Good flick. It hurts me to say that it’s over ten years old now. If you haven’t seen it, it’s pretty twisted. Watch it more then once, and you’ll see all kinds of little quirks that you didn’t see the first time and various scenes take on different meanings. If you have seen it, then you know it’s twisted. There’s a scene early on where Brad Pitt is talking to Edward Norton on a plane, gets up from his window seat and says “Now a question of etiquette; as I pass do I give you the ass or the crotch?” An interesting question there. Which would you rather someone stick in your face as they get up to pass you? Personally, I think I’d just get up to allow them isle access so I don’t have to deal with either one.

I came across this scene on AMC late last night. It was interesting timing because I’ve been thinking about matters of etiquette in the past few days. Granted they’re not as profound as the “Ass/Crotch conundrum”, but curious nonetheless.

Scenario one: You get on an elevator with another person. They press the button for their floor, and just stand there. They don’t bother to ask where you’re going or what floor you need. They might as well be playing defense on the buttons. What do you do? Do you hit them with the “excuse me could you hit the button for…” line? Do you just reach over and do it?

Follow-up question: Assuming you have your hands full and no one asks what floor you need? Ask them to hit the button? Or struggle to do it yourself? (And for the record, my personal favorite is when you have your hands full, hit your floor and step away from the buttons, someone else gets on holding nothing more then a cell phone, and says “floor 6 please”. ARE YOU KIDDING ME YOU LAZY BASTARD?!)

Scenario two: You’re at work, been talking with your co-workers all morning about whatever, and then get up and leave your desk to get your Fresca out of the fridge. Someone else gets up and leaves after you do, and you pass each other in the hall. Clearly you know the person. They know you too. You’ve been talking all morning. But you make eye contact, and then you both feel compelled to say something. “Hi. How are you?” isn’t going to work. Neither will “What’s up?” You know how they are and per your earlier conversation catching up on the weekend’s activities, nothing’s up. But you both feel compelled to say something. What do you say?

Scenario three: You’re talking with someone you know walking down the halls of wherever you are, and it turns out your both going to the restroom. Generally, my rule is that there’s nothing so important in the world that it can’t wait 47 seconds while you empty your bladder. But you’ve been talking this whole time. Stop while you handle your business? Or keep the conversation going?

Scenario four: This is the one that gets me on a semi-regular basis. You’re out to lunch somewhere, and if you’re like me, you get a half hour. Not a problem unless you’re running to Chipotle or somewhere else that tends to be mobbed at lunchtime. You arrive at the door at roughly the same time as someone else, and generally, I feel compelled to open the door and let them go first. If your luck is like mine, it’s either a mom with four kids, or some poor soul who drew the short straw and has to being back lunch for the whole office. Between the line that was already long and then their mega-order, your kindness really took its toll on your timeframe. Should they let you go first since you were kind enough to open the door? Or are you SOL because you were a nice guy?

Vegas...30...2

2009-10-26T09:46:00.000-07:00

“Hooker, it is 6:30 in the morning!”

That was the response I got from Josh the next day when I texted him asking if they were up and going yet. I love the time change going west. We’re up, going, and on the way before most of the city is even considering being awake. And for the record, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Vegas does, in fact, sleep. Apparently, so does my brother-in-law. And for the record, I was more like 9:45, so there.

Roused, dressed, and working our way down to their room, Trina and I plotted the day. We figured we’d ride the monorail all the way south to the MGM, which was only about three stops away just to show Sarah the strip, then all the way north to the Sahara and walk back eating and gambling at will. Of course, that would be easier if the two slugs in our company were AWAKE! Oh well. Cracking the blinds a bit and letting the room flood with the early morning light should do the trick! And do the trick it did. A little abrupt perhaps, but we need to capitalize on the day.

The troops were rallied, even if dragging. Josh was muttering about just having gotten to sleep, and Sarah said something proclaiming her love for hot dogs (it was Big Hot Dog day, after all). Then in a puzzled and sleepy voice, she felt the need to qualify that statement saying that her previous proclamation made her sound like a huge whore.

We rode the monorail the entire length of the strip as planned, which if you’ve never done, was actually kind of fun. It’s a cheap, quick way to get your bearings and see where you want to go. But getting off at the Sahara, and walking through the second northern-most casino on the strip made me wonder how much longer this place could stay in business? The only think farther north is the Stratosphere, and it gets a little dicey. Then moving back south, you don’t have anything until the Riviera and Circus Circus, both of which can’t possibly have a lot of staying power left, then a decent little walk until you hit Wynn. But if you’ve made it to Circus Circus, you’re right next to Slots-of-Fun, home of the Big Hot Dog. 9:30 a.m. in Vegas? Doesn’t matter a lick! The Big Hot Dog never disappoints.

We continued to Encore and then Wynn to enjoy another Vegas staple, drinks at Parasol Down. Of course, it’s still just before 10, so we looked like a handful of raging alcoholics lined up to enjoy cocktails out on the patio. What the hell? It’s vacation. We sat in the quiet serenity of the waterfall nestled in the hustle of the most exciting city in the world, and enjoyed our drinks. Parasol Down will be a staple of Vegas excursions for years to come.

Cruising through Treasure Island we came to the Mirage. I had never gambled there, hell I hadn’t even set foot in it since I was 14, and something compelled me to want to play cards there. We found a good table, and settled in. I know this is a silly point of fact, but they’re one of the places on the strip that serves Coke, not Pepsi. Determined not to make the same mistake from the night before, I requested a double Captain’s and Coke, and was off to the races. It wasn’t until about four shoes in that I realized “wow, these things are going down really smoothly!” At that point, it was too late, and I was a mess. Thank God Josh was there to help me find the girls, and after staggering through the Venetian, just for the hell of it, we made it back to Harrah’s for some quality pool time…or so I was told.

That night we decided to atone for the previous night’s culinary transgressions, and have a nice dinner at Mon Ami Gabi. The sun was setting behind the Bellagio across the street while we ate a lovely halibut and watched the dancing waters. We had a party of six, as one of Josh’s friends from work and his girlfriend met us for dinner, and the waiter made the critical error of not only charging us gratuity on the bill, but didn’t bother to mention it. Rookie. Oh well, enjoy your 17 ½ percent tip. Too bad you would’ve gotten 20 easily.

After a successful session at Flamingo, Josh up $150 and me up about $70, we decided it was time for Josh to put up or shut up. He’d been talking for weeks about wanting to get a tattoo in Vegas. No one was surprised that he wanted one, but after winning the cash that night, and deciding that the winnings would pay for his ink, Trina decided that it was time to walk right down to Vince Neil Ink and he would get it that night. He got just a shade gun shy, then adopted the trip motto, “What the hell?” The Son of Jurell cemented his legacy with a Superman S on his right triceps. Another few minutes of gambling at Harrah’s paved the way for bed, and the end of the day.

Our last full day was deemed “food day”. For three trips now, Trina and I had been wanting to go to ‘witchcraft, Tom Colicchio’s sandwich shop in the MGM Grand. We just beat the lunch rush to have a steak and egg sandwich and a roast beef sandwich with some chips and iced tea…for $28?! Are you kidding me? Damn…that’s an expensive sandwich. This is just- (one bite later)… I’m gonna need about 3 more to go please. Yeah, it was just that good.

The girls took their leave to go to the spa for a massage, and Josh and I walked around trying to find some good table mojo, walking here, there and everywhere. He won a little, I lost a little, and then I had a watershed moment. With plenty of cash left in my pocket, all budgeted for, and a whole day to do whatever I wanted, I just didn’t want to gamble anymore? I had my fill, and that was that. Josh agreed, and we hit the pool, joined by the girls once they finished their massages.

That night led to culinary indulgence. Dressed sharp and looking good, we took a cab down to Mandalay Bay to another Vegas staple, Red Square. Not knowing what to order and not really being all that into mixed drinks or martinis, Josh told me to “just order whatever”. A Russkie followed, and with one nearly tear-jerking sip, he proclaimed it “the best drink he’d ever had”.

Dinner called.

Across the strip was Craftsteak, another Tom Colicchio masterpiece. This was his fine-dining, flagship restaurant. Yellowtail Hamachi, filet with scallops, salmon, chicken, amazing. Served in cast-iron pans, and attended to as though it was going to be our last meals, every single thing was better then the next. Our sides of Yukon Gold potato puree and mushroom risotto came in beautiful copper pots to maintain heat and be eaten at our leisure. No one spoke. We all sat reverently and ate what we could only describe as the best meal any of us had ever eaten. We’ve been lucky enough to eat in some very impressive places. Not a single one could measure up. It was worth every single cent. I’d do it all again and never think twice.

We didn’t want to call it a night so early, but we were all so full and satisfied, nothing else could have made it all any better. We took strolled the monorail to get back to the hotel for the night. We’d done everything the right way, and now it was time to pack it in, and call it a trip. The next morning would come all too soon.

Vegas is an every changing thing. If there’s something you see, like, want to do, whatever, you better do it. There are no guarantees that whatever interested you will be there when you come back the next time. Therefore, it’s always a learning experience, too. Here’s what we came up with; generally three full days is plenty. You’re all Vegas-ed out at the end of that third day, no matter if it was a win, lose, or draw. But, we arrived at that conclusion after a bunch of off-season visits. When there’s a pool to lounge at and relax, four full days is by no means out of the question.

Vegas...closing in on 30

2009-09-23T13:33:00.000-07:00

The event that compelled me to recount previous Vegas trips is now in the books. We were there, we’re back, it was great, that’s all I got…yeah right.

It was a fine Sunday afternoon the day before we were to leave. The flight was out at 5:30 in the morning, so after cleaning like hell, we were going to take it easy, watch Casino, and eat pizza which is the only acceptable answer to the question “what do you do the day before you go on a Vegas trip?” Apparently, you also get gas in your car. Why? We’ll come back to that. But against my better judgment, I wasn’t going to bed even though it was getting later and later. Oh well…tomorrow’s gonna hurt.

Wow, 3 a.m. already? It was time to rally the troops, at least enough to get them to the car. Just needed a little help. So I’m prancing around the house thinking “Vegas, Vegas, Vegas, Vegas, Vegas” for about 15 minutes before I realized I wasn’t actually thinking it but saying it. Hoping I didn’t wake anyone, I reconsidered. Hell with them. Time to get up. Trina was rousing, Josh was dead to the world, and Sarah, our Vegas Virgin, was actually getting herself together. I was a little worried about Sarah. Don’t get me wrong; she’s good people, way easy going, and a lot of fun. But she’s a hair stylist, and stylists have a habit of taking roughly six months to get ready for anything.

We’re up, we’re going, it’s 3:37, and we’re blazing a trail up 75 to the scenic Dayton airport. If you’ve never been there, here’s the summary; it’s small, cheap, and there really isn’t anything around it. We’re running a little behind, when my gas light comes on. Bloody hell, we’re almost there. We can make it. Press on! Easy to say now. In 4 days when we come home, I hope this thing starts. (Fill your tank stupid)

Hmm…5:30, bad weather, and we’re not boarding yet. 5:35, nothing. 5:45, nada. And now I’m getting anxious. I’m a bit of a planner, and we have a connection to make in Charlotte to get to Vegas (Yes, Charlotte. We drove north to fly southeast to end up going west. I’m aware of the irony). At nearly 6, we were finally on board, and getting out of dodge. By the way, flying just above and parallel to a nasty thunderstorm in a dark sky is a different experience. How close was that lightning bolt to the wing again?

We land in Charlotte after flying through the thunderstorm still alive, and run like hell through four terminals to make our next flight which is boarding. No time for breakfast. Oh well. Made the flight, made the connection, lived through the storm. This trip is a win already, with one tiny snag. US Airways does not offer in-flight movies. On a four-hour flight, that sucks.

Upon landing, we had already been up and going for about seven hours, but it was only just about 9 a.m. in Vegas. Perfect. And why do we carry everything on? Because you can skip the quagmire that is baggage claim at McCarren airport and go straight to the cabs. We load up and tell the nice man “Harrah’s please”. To this he responds, “Yes, please to want the quick way or slow way?” For real? Oh, okay. “Yes, I would like to take the longest route possible. Matter of fact if you could run us by scenic downtown Vegas, that would be great too. And I’d like to pay you about, say, $150? Sure. Thanks for not screwing me big time.” The quick way you idiot! Who the hell asks for the long way? Rookies, that’s who.

Finally, we arrive at Harrah’s. And we’re starving. Like, about to decide which person to kill for food, starving. So we get changed and start walking. For some reason, Trina and I got it in our heads to go to the Burger Bar. That’s in Mandalay Bay. That’s about a 20-minute walk if you’re hustling. In the meantime, we’re all getting hungrier, not thinking straight, and it was just a really bad use of time. Oh well. The food was outstanding.

While we were there, we ran across Sarah’s sister who was on her way out as we were coming in. This girl and her friend could be a blog entry unto themselves. I just can’t even open that can of worms. I’ll go on for days. No, seriously…days.

Now that we were fed, it was time to head back, and do whatever grabbed us. To gamble, or not to gamble. Actually, not to gamble won out, and we found ourselves at the pool. Only one problem; they won’t let you bring in your own drinks, and the drinks at the pool start at $12 a pop. Bottle service? Sure. That’ll be $150 for a bottle of Malibu Rum. Yeah, the same stuff that you can get in any liquor store and most grocery stores for $21.95. Son, you’re outta your tree. That was, until we discovered the bucket-o-beer, Corona style. It was some reasonable about of money for a significant amount of beer. That’s about all I remember of that process.

Time to gamble. Ah crap, it’s the last day of a holiday weekend. Oh well, let’s see what there is to see? We ate simply that night, just having Subway, and started making our way from casino to casino looking for a cheap table. Buffalo Bill’s Gambling Hall was happy to oblige. $5 a hand, single deck Blackjack makes Jack a happy boy, at least for a little bit. But the more I play, the more I realize that a single deck game isn’t quite as great as people think, and here’s why. First, people think that one deck means it is easier to count cards. That’s a fair statement, but in order to count cards, you have to be able to see the denomination, duh. In a single deck game when the player can handle the cards, you don’t see the denomination until the very end, and then, only for a split second. Better count fast. Second, because the cards are face down, it really makes a double down a questionable move. Personally, I want to see what the person to my right just hit for, and single deck takes the term double down very literally. Finally, if the table has a lot of people at it, counting is totally worthless even if you can see every card because they shuffle after every single hand.

Josh and I were both up a little for the night, when it became apparent that the drink girl wasn’t coming back around our table anymore. Come on man! I’m trying to capitalize on what this town has to offer. Time to go somewhere else. That place happened to be O’Shea’s where Josh was introduced to the game of Blackjack in all it’s form and splendor four years prior. The problem here seemed to be rookie dealers. Hey, you deal slow, that’s cool. You don’t count fast? Fine. But when you keep accidentally pulling more then one card out of the shoe, you’re not sure who should get which card, the cards get move arbitrarily, and all of a sudden the dealer can’t lose a hand, that’s just no good. They were everywhere that night, and kept taking our money. Retreat today, fight tomorrow.

Vegas: December '07 II

2009-08-24T13:17:00.000-07:00

Before we left for this trip, we decided that we were going to do something different this time. We were going to have a little competition between the four of us. When you’re sitting at the tables, it’s pretty commonplace to chat up the people around you when there are breaks in the action. It’s typical banter; where ya from and what do you do? The goal was to make up backgrounds about ourselves and tell them at the tables in an effort to get someone to call you a liar. It’s like Fight Club; “You’re gonna pick a fight with a total stranger, and you’re gonna lose.” Most people will go out of their way to avoid a fight, as the movie says. And most people will do anything to avoid calling you a liar.

The cover ID’s
Pat: Published author.
Trina: Owner of the second-largest organic tobacco farm in the Midwest.
Me: 2010 Olympic hopeful…in Curling.
Mom: You guys are stupid.

Of course, there’s a fine line between selling the cover enough to be believable, but still leaving enough question to prompt someone to call you out. And sitting around the dinner table, Pat was unconvinced that I would be able to pass inspection as an Olympic curler. Try me…

“How many guys to a team?”
“Five. Two shooters, two sweepers, and an anchor who is good at both.”
“Huh? Okay, how long is the alley?”
“It’s called a lane, and it’s 30 meters.”
“Alright…how heavy’s the puck?”
“It’s a stone, for the record, and it’s 10kg.”
“Dude, have you done this before?”

Armed with the cover IDs, we sat, and played. The first day was a bust. The only people we talked to was “That Guy” who left right after we sat down, and Phillipe, the Bahamian dealer at the Excalibur. Not to worry. If there’s one thing spy movies have taught me it’s that you don’t force a good cover ID. Just keep it handy for when the time comes…and it will come.

The second day found us taking a trip downtown to historic Freemont Street. I love seeing Freemont Street. It never gets old. You can spend the whole day there, but you don’t have to. You can see pretty much all of it inside of an hour or two. The other great part of it is all the gambling is cheap. In some cases, you can still play blackjack at $3 per hand. So we started with the oldest hotel in Vegas. Can’t remember the name of the place, but the address is 1 Freemont Street. Easy enough to remember, right?

We played a few hands there, breaking about even or so, and moved on the Binion’s to sit at a populated table and let the lying commence.

Sitting with several other people who were there before us and clearly there together, we started chatting during a shuffle. Pat and I were both starting to get excited when the “Where ya from?” question came out. We told them we were from Cincinnati, and asked them the same question, finding out they were from Seattle. Silence. So we tried again.

“What do you guys do?”
“I’m a this, I’m a that…yada yada yada.” Neither of us cared, we just wanted our window.
Silence. Nothing. Nada. No “what do you guys do?” Nothing.

Undaunted, we played a little while longer, then hopped a cab and took a trip back to the north end of the strip to Slots of Fun to have a big hotdog; a massive foot-long with chili and cheese, for $1.59. and he saw that it was good…

Into the Wynn we went. Ah, the Wynn. It’s just beautiful, inside and out. We stopped, had a cocktail, and walked the floor. The Wynn strikes the right balance of ambiance and comfort. It’s an impressive place to be, but you don’t feel uncomfortable sitting down to gamble. To that end, shall we get a few hands in?

Again, we sat at a table with two other people, and mid-shuffle start the “where ya from and what do you do” conversation. The computer programmer from Phoenix and the retail district manager from Newport were happy to tell us, and then silence. Nothing. No reciprocity, what so ever. Ask me what I do, damnit! Nothing. Hell with them…

So back to the hotel we went to get ready for dinner. It was to be our “dress to the nines” night, where we all got gussied up and pretended we were rich. What better way to do that then to spend a house payment on food and booze at Red Square? I’ve never seen such reckless abandon for ordering food and drinks. It was insane, but considering how empty the place was the week before Christmas, the waitress was happy to oblige. And what better way to pass the night all decked out then to sit at the tables in suits with hot women in dresses feeling like James Bond? That is of course, assuming 007 bet $5-10 a hand.

All right, last full day. The plan was to sit at every table we could, talk to as many people as possible, and use these back-stories…and we struck out EVERYWHERE! Not one person, not one dealer, not one pit boss, not one stinking cocktail waitress would take the bait. AGH! It just wasn’t to be. My Olympic dreams were dashed.

Dinner that night was a voyage into Tapas. We walked the strip stopping here and there, and just having an appetizer wherever we stopped. Not really my idea of a dinner, but we did find our way to Mon Ami Gabi to watch the fountains at Bellagio from the patio. That event would prompt the next day’s happenings.

We were now in the precarious fourth day. We were leaving that afternoon, but with the time left in the day when we arrived, then the time left before we had to catch our flight, we were working on four days in Vegas. Untested territory. Undiscovered country. But, since we were there, one more good meal and maybe a few more minutes of blackjack awaited. So we headed back to Paris and Mon Ami Gabi.

As luck would have it, we were early, and they didn’t open for another half hour. Didn’t really matter since people were already queuing up to sit down. But with time to kill, why not play a few more hands. We’d already taken a bit of a beating, Pat especially. He’s not what I would consider to be a good gambler. More on this in a minute. But as if some odd twist of fate, the gods saw fit to send us on our way on a high note. Somehow, we sat down and couldn’t lose? By the time our table was ready, a whirlwind of cards had shown me about $150 in winnings. And with one last chance at stardom, I cast the “what do you do” lure. Everyone responded, but not one bite. ASK ME WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING, DAMIT! Nothing. We ate, and went to the airport.

Even the bad gamblers catch a break sometimes. Now, what makes a bad gambler? If you split face cards against, well, anything, are you a bad gambler? Maybe. If you don’t double down on an 11 against a dealer’s 6, are you a bad gambler? Possibly. If you don’t know basic strategy and are limping along at a blackjack table betting the table minimum, are you a bad gambler? Decidedly not. Well, you might be on your way, but you’re not there yet, so watch yourself. Chances are, you’re just inexperienced. Like I said, everyone was a beginner once. We were all once novice. Look around a casino. It’s a multi-billion dollar industry, and none of it was built on people winning money. You can play perfect strategy, count every card in the deck, have a hit card with you, whatever, and still lose. Conversely, you can play like a numbskull, and still win. Do you know when to leave? Can you call a winning session over before you give it all back? Do you know when to cut your losses and be done, gracefully, without making a scene about how the casino jut brought in a closer because you were winning to much? Hey, if you don’t think these statements are made, just look around a casino once in a while. Do you know when to not reach back into your wallet for another hundred?

These are all lessons Pat has never bothered to learn. Too bad too, because he’s a lot of fun to play cards with, and he almost always brings good mojo to the table. But such is his cross to bear.

But Vegas is a funny place. I watched Pat plunk down more crisp $100’s then I care to count, and I saw dealers take away all his pretty chips more times then he’d care to count. And as if the city just wants us to come back again, we finished on an high note, taking back some profit. A hundred dollar profit can almost make you forget about the grand you lost in the past two days…almost.

Only in Vegas.

Vegas: December '07

2009-08-21T12:50:00.000-07:00

Ah, the stars had aligned again. Contrary to her statement that she really wasn’t all that interested in going to Vegas again, my mother had come to her senses, and we were headed west to America’s playground.

Now, in an effort to reconcile flight times, the right amount of time to stay, cross-referenced against hotel availability, squared and divided by price, we broke what has grown to be a de facto rule. See, figuring out the length of a stay is a delicate art. A ballet of factors, if you will. It all seems to come down to you’re desire to gamble, your ability to gamble, and your budget. High desire, high ability, high budget, stay a month if you want. Low desire, low ability, low budget, you probably picked the wrong vacation destination. In planning last trips, we’ve found that the trip runs best with three full days of activity; fly in early on a Monday, have the rest of the day, all day Tuesday and Wednesday, and come home Thursday. Works like a charm. But if some is good, more is better, not to mention flights and cost, so we ended up flying out Sunday afternoon, and not coming home until Thursday afternoon. Hmm…a previously untested addition of time at the front and back ends of the trip. We’d have to see how this played out.

If you’re considering a Vegas trip, and you’re not that concerned with the pool scene, consider December. Everything is decked out in Christmas garb, the tourist count is pretty low, you can find cheap gambling through the week, the travel and lodging is dirt-cheap as well, and you probably won’t need a reservation anywhere in town. But make no mistake about it, in spite of being in the middle of the desert, it’s not warm. In fact, there were days it was outright chilly. And being right of the cusp of heavy sweatshirt versus jacket can be a little frustrating. However, if that’s the biggest problem, bring it on.

The trip almost ended before it began as Cincinnati and Dayton experienced their worst snowfalls of the season two days before we left. But would 18 inches of snow slow us down? Hell no! Well, hopefully no. Conditions were good enough to allow us safe passage to the neon-lit strip.

The captain’s announcement that we were on final approach to Las Vegas was totally drowned out by the familiar tones of Elvis in my own head. A little less conversation, a little more action please. It just crept up in there all by itself. Always a fortuitous omen. We touched down around 5 or so, and for the first time, we were arriving with the sun setting and nearly out of sight, not that it really mattered. The vibe only got stronger as we looked out across the strip from the windows of the monorail taking us from the gate to the terminal. It was bound to be a good trip. On to baggage claim, taxis, and New York, New York!

We were in, settled, and unwound from a day of being on a plane, and realized “Hey, it’s like, 10 back home…and we’re all starving.” So we ambled across the overpass above the strip connecting New York, New York with the MGM grand, and found our way to Wolfgang Puck’s Bar and Grill in the MGM.

Every single time I have been in the MGM Grand, I’ve been impressed. This place has been there for decades, in the same spot, defying the passing of time and new construction on the Las Vegas strip. Bellagio, Venitan, Palazzo, Wynn, and Encore are all brand new and impressive, but the MGM still hangs tough. Huge casino? Check. Killer pool? Check. Beautiful blend of old Vegas glitz with new Vegas luxuries? Check. Fine dining? How about world-class? Didn’t I mention Wolfgang Puck? And by the way, putting “Bar and Grill” after a name like “Wolfgang Puck” seems to sound a lot like “Secret Decoder Ring” and “Tiffany’s”. But the food was fantastic and nicely affordable, so clearly he knows what he’s doing.

Back across the street we went to “hoist a mug of ale” or whatever, in the most Irish pub I’ve ever seen, Nine Fine Irishmen. Now, Irish food- it sucks. Traditional Irish beer- it sucks. Irish music- kinda sucks. So why would we ever go there? Because Pat is so Irish that if you cut him, he bleeds pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers. Yeah, he’s magically delicious. But I’ve now been in the city for several hours and haven’t even paused at a table yet. It was time to do work.

Maybe the tables were all more expensive then we were willing to play. Or maybe they were all working on continuous shuffle machines. Or maybe both. Or maybe neither? For whatever reason, the gambling vibe just didn’t feel good in New York, New York, so we went across the street to Excalibur. Yeah, it’s gaudy, but there were plenty of spots open at $5 tables that were still being dealt from a shoe. So we sat down and met my favorite gambler ever; the guy who thinks he’s a pro.

If you’ve never played cards with this guy, take heart. He exists in all walks of life. He’s the guy that, whatever you do, whatever you know, it’s just wrong because it’s not what he’d have done. Now, apply this to a situation that’s supposed to be fun with some cards, chips, and free drinks, and you have him in a casino. This guy can be spotted quickly, and corrective action taken.

Tip-offs:
1. He’s sitting at a $5 table with every denomination of chips except $5, and he’s betting $25-50 a hand trying to look like a baller. Or he just keeps the other denominations out for show while he bets the 5’s.
2. He’s wearing dark sunglasses like he’s playing poker…or the Unabomber…or the Unabomber playing poker.
3. He snorts with contempt when you do something that he wouldn’t do.
3b. He tells you clearly why you shouldn’t have done what you did.
4. He is actually a 60+ year-old she. Crotchety old ladies are almost reason enough to find another table…no kidding.

Retaliatory options:
Sit down at the table, keeping your head down, and playing solid basic strategy conceding to the fact that they’re going to keep doing what they’re doing. Not appealing.
Just don’t sit down. However, this only works if you spot them before you take your seat. I will sooner empty my wallet on the table in a losing effort then be run-off by this person. Hmm...a sound rationale, when there's nothing else open, you're stuck.
Assuming you have already sat down, play two or three hands like a knucklehead. Now, I don’t mean hit when the dealer’s showing bust. But don’t play according to Hoyle. Double down on a soft 18, or just one time, split 10’s. If it doesn’t work, play dumb. If it does work, cheer, rant, rave, high-five anyone in reach, maybe do the moonwalk, whatever. They’ll leave…guaranteed.

I don’t have a problem, generally, with new players at a table. In fact, I’ll take a novice doing their best against “That Guy”. Everyone who’s played was a new player at one point. And the fact of the matter is, if you’re sitting at a $5 table, you have to expect a more novice-level of play. If that’s a problem for you and your $15-25 a hand bet, go to a more expensive table so I don’t have to take grief from my friends for splitting 2’s against a dealer’s 6 in an effort to get you to leave.

The guy we sat down with was quickly labeled, “That Guy”. Pat, being the jovial guy he is, strolled up to the table and says “Hi there. Mind if we join you?” The guy just grunted and shrugged, the universal sign of “Do I have a choice?” With a silent glance of understanding, we were about to take this dude down. Three blackjacks a piece in, followed him busting three times, prompting his choice statement “well, I guess the cards are just running different now huh? I seemed to be winning a lot a few minutes ago.” And he left. It was a moral and financial victory for the night.

Season 9 Stars

2009-08-18T13:36:00.000-07:00

Today is a sacred and holy day in my year. All right, that’s a bit of a stretch, but it’s a pretty cool day, nonetheless. Today is the day when the people at ABC see fit to announce who will be participating on the newest season of Dancing With the Stars. It is, indeed, a happy day to be sure. So let’s see who we’ve got to look forward to…

Mya: We haven’t seen much of Mya since she released “Return of the Ex” a while ago. But she should follow in the vein of Lil’ Kim who was unjustly ousted, and Mario, who did some damage a few seasons back. I’ll look for pretty good things from her.

Macy Gray: Wow. Just, wow. She has always seemed like such a kook that I wouldn’t expect her to be around too long. Of course, Cloris Leechman put something of a dent in that theory, so who knows?

Aaron Carter: Ugh. With big brother, Nick binging on cocaine and slapping debutante girlfriends around, I figure he’s just a few years behind him. However, young teens who’s presentation is sexually androgynous, i.e. Cody Linley, and boy-banders have done well here in the past.

Melissa Joan Hart: I think she’s still on a “look how much weight I lost” kick from earlier this year, and looking for some publicity to get some new projects going. We’ll have to see if Sabrina, the Teenage Witch can do some work. Hell, she managed to be a teenage witch until she was 30, so maybe she can.

Debi Mazar: Proof that you don’t need to be attractive in presentation or personality to have a job in Hollywood. She’s got one of those voices that makes me want to stick sharp things in my eyes like Fran Drescher, Erkel, or Janice from Friends. She better be awesome because I doubt she has the following to get random votes.

Joanna Krupa: Probably one of the hottest women on the planet…and that is not just an opinion, Maxim says so. Trust Maxim. Maxim is good and wise. Randomly hot women with few other credentials are known to go very far and even win this thing. Just ask Stacy Keibler and Brooke Burke.

Kathy Ireland: See also-Joanna Krupa argument.

Kelly Osbourne: I would think that she would be the type to not take this at all seriously, and shun the show as a statement against conformity. But the show has gained enough popularity that I would think they could find someone else who would take their participation seriously enough to try.

Donny Osmond: The Osmond family has done well in this arena before, even if they did manage to hang around three weeks longer then they should have.

Chuck Liddell: The Iceman danceth. I wouldn’t have expected to see an MMA star in the mix, but what the hell? If he can’t beat you on the dance floor, he’ll beat you somewhere.

Louie Vito: Who?

Natalie Coughlin: Olympians have done very, very well in this show historically. I can see her having some staying power.

Michael Irvin: The all-pro turned cocaine and hooker addict turned born again Christian might be able to hang in for a while. Football players have strong track records here. Just ask Warren Sapp, Emmitt Smith, or Jerry Rice to name a few.

Tom DeLay: I have never heard of this guy in my life? He’s a former republican majority leader, which means pretty much nothing to me other then he used to do something political and now he doesn’t anymore. Actually, now he probably does something else political. See how much I care?

Mark Dacascos: The Chairman, himself! He’s a martial artist, an actor, and the host of Iron Chef America, Mark Dacascos. I am expecting him to be a serious contender in this season. A history of martial arts has taught him grace, conditioning, and respect. Not to mention, for a little guy he has an impressive presence.

Look for the first episode September 21st.

Vegas: July '06 II

2009-08-17T11:38:00.000-07:00

So we’re hanging out in Rumjungle, and I’m not really doing anything more then taking up space. Actually, I was just about to get up and leave, when I caught a familiar face at the end of the bar to my left, less then eight feet away. I don’t mean familiar like someone I knew and was glad to see there. I mean familiar like a face I’ve seen many times before.

Doing my best to be casual, which of course means I was not casual in the least, I kept trying to steal glances until my curiosity overwhelmed me, and I just had to lean over and look. Confirming my theory of who my bar mate was, he suddenly looked at me, grabbed his chest, and jumped back like he’d seen a ghost. I guess that’s the kind of thing I deserved considering my non-casual nature I spite of myself, from a jokester like Jim Carrey. Kind enough to laugh off my star struck interrogative glances, he smiled, shook my hand, introduced himself and his girlfriend, Jenny McCarthy. Dude, what do you think, I’ve been living in a cave for the last ten years? Or are you really just that cool and even-keeled about the enormity of your success? I think he really was that cool.

The rest of the night passed without incident. But for the second night, there would be no sleep had, as my father’s snoring likely woke our entire floor.

For the third day in a row, I found myself hanging out killing time on the strip. Still not the most fun thing to do when you’re solo. But everyone was all set to be out for the day by about noon, so the pool was calling. No sooner did the stroke of noon hit, then I was out asleep, dead to the world for about five hours. Two nights “sleeping” on a foldout cot listening to Grizzly bears argue had finally caught up to me.

By the time I got up, dinner plans were in the works. That night, the plan was to go to Mon Ami Gabi with something like a party of 12 or so. By this time, I knew a fair number of people that were in our group, but these guys were all knew. Of course, I came to find out that only one of the four new people joining us were docs. Everyone else was just friends with the right people, and since it was all on the company, why not bring them all along?

If you’ve never eaten at Mon Ami Gabi, it’s something that is really worth trying. The food is good. It’s not Michelin-rated good, but good nonetheless. It’s not terribly expensive, at probably around $25-30 a person. And it has, bar none, the best outdoor seating of any restaurant I’ve been at on the strip. Did I say bar none? Well it’s worth repeating. Bar none. Al fresco eating is a pretty slim market on the blazing heat of the Vegas strip, but when you’re on a cobblestone patio looking right across the street at the Bellagio fountains, it doesn’t really matter what the competition has to offer. It just doesn’t get better.

The next morning, I found myself packing to get ready to make the trip home when there was a knock at the door. Still sleepy, and rather confused, I opened it to find my dad standing there beaming like a child with a plate of food in his hand. “Here, I grubbed you. Gotta run back.” He actually went to a lecture where they were offering breakfast, waited in a buffet line, stole food, ran it up to me, and then ran back to catch the end of the seminar. It was cold buffet food, but the circumstances were all too funny, and I appreciated the effort.

With a little less then an hour before we had to leave for the airport, dad decides he’s going to sit and gamble. It was Friday in the early afternoon, so the prices on the tables were already higher then I felt like dealing with at $10-15 tables all over, and not a $5 to be found. Undaunted, he wanted to play, so he found at $10 table with a continuous shuffle machine, and sat down. I hate those machines, but tolerating them is becoming a necessary evil in just about any casino anywhere. With a seat open next to him, he beckoned me to sit down and play. I touched the chair to pull it out, and something about it just felt all wrong. I have no idea why? I have no idea what it was? But for some reason, sitting down right then, right there just didn’t seem like a good idea. Probably a good thing I didn’t sit down as dad lost $100 on 11 hands never winning a single one.

It was a different kind of trip, no doubt about it. It was fun, but probably not one that I would want to make again. Walking the strip by yourself in the middle of the afternoon, sitting at a table solo, or hanging out alone by the pool is just not my thing. I know there are people who would kill for that kind of down time, but the fact of the matter is that if you’re looking for down time, you’re in the wrong city.

Vegas: July '06

2009-08-10T08:29:00.000-07:00

It was about the be the third time in a year that I was going to make the trip back to the sacred ground known as the Las Vegas strip. But my dad was going out for a conference/convention for work, and he had a ton of frequent flyer miles, so what the hell? I wasn’t paying for it, and neither was he, so bring it on. Besides, this would be my first visit to the area in the summer months for poolside enjoyment since I was 21.

We left Cincinnati around 10 a.m., flew direct, met the people dad was “conventioning” with, and made our way to the hotel. Something just didn’t feel quite the same as times I’d had arrived in visits past. I didn’t have the same buzz. I wasn’t singing Elvis to myself. Probably not a good sign. The best gamblers in the world will tell you that vibes, feelings, hairs standing on the back of your neck are just myths. I’m compelled to disagree. By about 11:30 Vegas time, we were at the pool running up an absolutely retarded tab. Vivacious, rum-based concoctions were flowing like water down a mountain. It was 1:15 before I realized that I still hadn’t eaten anything that day, and as far as my stomach was concerned, it was just after 4.

Several more hours of enjoyment passed, and before I knew it, we had run up a $600 bar tab buying whatever sounded good for whoever walked by. Apparently, I’m in the wrong line of work? But it was time to take our leave, get changed, and gather again for dinner.

Just before we arrived Planet Hollywood had bought out the Aladdin, where we were staying, and the corporation was in the process of making the changes in décor, gaming, and unfortunately, restaurants. I say unfortunately, because the place we ate that night was called Elements, and it was absolutely amazing. In spite of my best efforts, I can’t find it in Planet Hollywood or anywhere else on the strip. But we packed it in early for the night because whatever semblance of a conference that was going on was starting the next day.

The bulk of the next day, I was on my own. And I never thought that I would say this, but Vegas, by yourself, when you’re not an obsessive gambler, between the hours of 9-3:30 or 4, can be really dull. Yeah, I know. I can’t believe I just said it either? But I hate gambling by myself, and the pool scene was kind of dead. On a side note, for as cool a room as we had and as nice as the hotel was, their pool deck is somewhat lacking. About an hour at the tables yielded a few bucks, but I just can’t sit by myself at a table for any substantial amount of time. Thankfully, around 4, everyone was done with whatever business was being conducted, and the party was set to resume.

That night would mark a triumphant return to Red Square to do battle with the Russkie. We had a party of roughly 20, and totally monopolized the center of the restaurant. And in an effort to help dad’s business, (why not, if not for the company, I wouldn’t be there) I moved from table to table, striking up conversations and helping with drink orders. Cool job you have here, dad. So what do you actually do again? Apparently, spend a stupid amount of money on food and booze in an effort to get people to like you.

In the corner of the restaurant, easily missed if you weren’t looking for it, was the “vodka locker” for the “Red Square Vodka Experience”. Yeah, that’s what it’s actually called on the bill. What you do is go into a small, very cold room with coats and hats on, and drink vodka that starts at $200 a bottle from all over Mother Russia. Gotta tell ya, $200 vodka chilled to 25 degrees tastes an awful lot like $30 vodka chilled to 25 degrees. For all we know, it was just Smirnoff or Absolut.

Next door to Red Square is Rumjungle, a danceclub/bar and they might even have a restaurant in there too? So we stepped next door, when all I really wanted to do was go back to the room. All the people we were with were all together too happy to be out in Vegas, cutting loose, away from spouses or responsibility, and it was just becoming less and less my scene. I just wasn’t into it.

What better way to get into it then to have a brush with greatness?

Vegas: February 2006 II

2009-08-06T10:43:00.000-07:00

Our last day came and went pretty much without incident. There wasn’t a ton going on. We walked the strip, had a look inside Bellagio and Wynn, two things we didn’t do in our last visit because of all the crazy winning. We didn’t even spend that much time at the tables. Ultimately, we were pretty much spent.

Our flight was scheduled to be leave around noon the next day. A short layover in Denver, and we would be back home that night. That was the plan, at least until breakfast that morning. Apparently, Pat wasn’t satiated yet. He still had an itch that needed to be scratched, and with the rest of our party leaving later that day, it would be just the four of us, if we could juggle our lodging for one more night, and our travel the next day.

Trina and I are planners. If our flight leaves at 12, we’re at the airport at 10 or 10:30, getting through security, making sure everything’s in place, grab a drink, and if we have to wait 40 minutes to board the plane, so be it. My folks? Not so much. Stroll in whenever they want, walk right to the plane as they’re making the final boarding call, and if they miss it, what the hell? We’ll catch the next one.

9:40
Them: you guys wanna stay another day?
Us: Umm…sure. Why not.
Them: Okay. We’ll finish breakfast and go back to the rooms and see what we can work out.

10:05
Them: Umm…well, this hotel is booked for the night, so let’s see what else we can find.
Us: Uh…okay. What about the flight?
Them: Oh yeah, forgot about that. We’ll call them too.

10:15
Them: Well, since we bought this trip as a package, we can’t extend it
Us: Okay. Then let’s hustle up and get to the airport. Our flight’s out in just over 90 minutes.
Them: What’s the rush? We can work this thing out. Just relax.
Us: Teeth grinding.

10:47
Them: Ah, I see. There’s a convention this weekend! That’s why we can’t get another room anywhere.
Us: Alright, then let’s REALLY hurry to the airport and just go home.
Them: Nah, we’ll get it figured out.

11:05
Them: Alright, we can get one room for all 4 of us at Excalibur for tonight, but a flight is hard to come by.
Us: Then what’s the point? Let’s get a cab right now!
Them: Nah.
Us: Guys, checkout time was literally 5 minutes ago.
Them: So?

11:40
Them: Well, we might have a flight, but let’s see if we can find something cheaper.
Us: Are you kidding me? You’re splitting hairs when our original flight leaves in 20 minutes?
Them: Don’t worry…they won’t leave without us.
Us: Actually, I don’t recall what happen next because I think I hyperventilated and passed out.

By noon, I think I had come to, the flight was gone, checkout time was an hour ago, with a convention in town, there was almost no where to stay, and it looked like we would be hitchhiking home. Sweet. But I guess while I was unconscious, they had secured travel and lodging. We would all share a room at Excalibur…for $200 for the night (that place usually charges about $40 a night for the record), and we’d be taking a one-way flight home the next day…for $400 a person. So ultimately, staying one more day cost more then the first four days of the trip. What the hell…it wasn’t our money.

The dynamic had changed, and it was actually a really nice day. We relaxed, laughed, joked, mostly about me passing out, ate, drank, and were merry. And finally, we found our way to the Flamingo. It was getting late, and this would probably be the last time we gambled on the trip. But it was a Friday night, and everything was packed. Finally finding a table with two open spots, Pat and I sat down to play while mom and Trina looked around.

The table was full, but for the most part they were friendly. I few times I caught a dirty look here or there for the way I was playing, but I play for me. I’m sorry if what I do offends the delicate sensibilities of other people at the table, but my money is my money, and I’ll play how I want and do what’s best for my bankroll.

Anyway, some time had passed, and we were both up for the venture. I decide I’m going to cash out, and Pat hits me with the “let’s play one more hand” routine. And he also added the “go ahead, bet a big one” pitch. Anyone who’s ever been in a casino for more then a minute should know better. But, I was up to $150 and only bought in for $50, so what the hell? I pushed out three green chips for a $75 bet, still the biggest single bet I’ve ever made. Out come the cards, and I get a five. Well how about you just smack me in the face now and get it over with?! The next cards come out and the dealer paints my five with a six. I retract my previous statement. Oh yeah, and she’s got a six showing as well. Oh man. Ordinarily, what to do next isn’t even a conversation. That’s a double down in your sleep. But with $75 on the table, and really not feeling great about putting out the rest of my cash, I hesitated.

“You see mom anywhere?,” I inquire?
“No.”
“How about Trina?”
“Nope.”
“DOUBLE DOWN” I declare as I slam my other $75 out on the table. And the table cheers in agreement.

With a grin and a nod, the kind-hearted dealer obliges with a nine. Sweet. I’m showing 20 against a bust card, and I’m feeling pretty good about myself. Until, of course, she turns her hole-card and shows what card? A five, of course. Bitch. The collective sigh from the table can be heard throughout a room of previously screaming people. Then totally losing all control of my faculties, intelligence, etiquette, and tact, not to mention manners, I look her right in the face and say “I swear to God if you pull a 10 out of that deck, I’m going to turn this table over.” Yeah, don’t EVER do that. Then, with a trembling hand, she draws the next card from the shoe and reveals a seven. 20 beats 17 all day, and it was at that point I decided it was best to get out of there, leaving nothing but tread marks and a puff of smoke that looks like me where I was sitting before I was escorted out by big scary guys names Guido.

I left with six times the amount a sat down with. Any gambler in the world would call that a good night.

We made our way back to Excalibur, where we finished the night, and the trip by watching a hypnotist. It was cool. Cool enough anyway. It was fun to see once, but not really worth seeing again. Then we retired to the matchbox of a room that the four of us would pass the next few hours in until it was time to leave. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but sharing a bed with your girlfriend (we wouldn’t be engaged for another three months) in the same room as your parents…just weird.

I have no idea if I was up or down for the trip? If I ended up down, it couldn’t have been much. I would have felt a loss, and I just didn’t have that feeling. I didn’t feel like I needed to do everything I could to leave the city as quickly as I possibly could, not that it mattered…I’d still be fighting to get back.

Vegas: February 2006 I

2009-07-31T14:06:00.000-07:00

The next trip out to Vegas came a lot sooner then expected. As a treat to himself for working with the relief efforts after Hurricane Katrina, my stepfather, Pat decided that he wanted to undertake the pilgrimage. It also coincided with his birthday, so it all worked well. This time would be Mom, Pat, their friend Melanie and her husband Don, and then Trina and me. And while we’re at it, why mess with what works? Fly in early Monday and out Thursday afternoon. It was beautiful, particularly because I didn’t have to be the one to drive before the crack of dawn.

We arrived early in the day on Monday in February. Make no mistake about it, even though you’re in the desert, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be warm. Obviously, it was warmer then Cincinnati in the middle of the winter, but there would be no talk of pools or shorts. And this time, we would move one hotel farther south on the strip to stay at Mandalay Bay. Nice place to be sure. The lobby was beautiful and the whole thing felt tropical from the look to the smells. The rooms were impressive too, and Trina would be the first to tell you that the bathrooms were amazing. Quite possibly the highlight of the trip, so far as she was concerned.

The pace of the trip was different from the beginning. Not bad, just different. See, what I’ve noticed is that depending on the diversity of age in the people around you, gambling takes on different levels of enjoyment as well as ways to reach that enjoyment. Personally, I want to sit at a $5 table. I’ll sit at a $10, but I always seem to be tentative about my play, which doesn’t help anything or anyone. It’s not that I won’t bet $10 a hand or more, but I don’t want to have to. So my thoughts are always to gamble in the morning or afternoon when the tables are cheap, and do the tourist-y stuff at night when there is rarely a $5 table to be found. Well, that philosophy doesn’t work when you’re with a group of people whose household incomes are between $150-200k.

It was becoming more and more apparent that something about this trip was different then our trip just five short months ago. Maybe it was the fact that there weren’t ten months of anticipation leading up to it? Maybe it was the fact that we didn’t take the time and effort to pay for this trip ourselves? Maybe it was the dichotomy of having six personalities ranging from one end of the spectrum to the other. Actually, I think it was probably all three.

The first day was spent walking up and down the strip with the usual ooh’s and ahh’s that first-timers experience. By the time we went as far north as we dared go, and made our way most of the way back, the crew thought it would be fun to walk over to Rio and see Penn and Teller. Incidentally, we were right at the corner between Caesar’s Palace and Bellagio. Their intentions were good enough, but they had no idea how far we really were from Rio. I mean, it’s right there! Can’t take that long to walk to it right? Trina and I took our leave to relax the rest of the night.

The next morning, the first thing we heard at breakfast was “do you have any idea how far off the strip Rio is?” Yeah, I do. Why do you think we didn’t walk to hoof it all the way over there?

We walked a little, looked a little, gambled a little, and decided that night was going to be our go-somewhere-nice-for-dinner-and-splurge night. The plan was to go to Aureole. If you don’t know, Aureole is a Michelin-rated restaurant that houses a three-story wine tower. Within the tower are “wine angels”; women in climbing harnesses that can ascend the entire height of the tower to get what ever bottle is chosen, then deliver it to the table. Very cool. But upon looking that the menu, it was just a little too off the wall for our unrefined palates.

Enter: The Russkie.

Just around the corner from Aureole is a place called Red Square. As you may have guessed, it’s all-Russian themed to include some amazing vodkas. At the bar, there is a strip in the middle that’s a frozen block of ice, ideal for keeping your drink cold while you take in the scenery and wait for dinner. Their menu is nice, but with no question about it, their attraction is the martinis and other vodka-based delights. I started with a White Russian while Trina has Persephone’s Pomme, which was pomegranate flavored. But the drink that likely won the night was the Russkie. This beast was a super-smooth banana martini that you would suck right down asking for another one and reminding them to put some booze in it next time. Of course, it was all booze, and so cold and smooth that you didn’t realize it until you were too drunk to pronounce the name and ask for another.

We could have stayed all night enjoying everything that was going on around us. But we decided to take our leave and head north up the strip to Harrah’s. Harrah’s is a huge place, but doesn’t have quite the glitz, glamour, or theme of some of the megacasinos in the city. For that reason, it’s often overlooked. I don’t know why? It’s got a killer location, reasonably priced gambling, nice rooms, and what drew us there that night, an out of the way comedy club. They’ve hosted a ton of celebs, but on this night, we saw Adam Ferrara.

Adam Ferrara has been working in stand-up comedy for years. Until the past few years he’s been lesser known in the shadows of comics like Dennis Leary and Andrew Dice Clay. Now, you might have seen him in “Paul Blart: Mall Cop” or as a regular on “Rescue Me”. But now I can saw “I saw him when…” and he was amazing. Fantastically gifted, great presence, and took time to meet the audience at the end of the night. Total entertainer, totally worth it.

Vegas II

2009-07-28T08:48:00.000-07:00

The man who would end up being my brother-in-law took me upstairs and got me to my room. I couldn’t see straight, and I hadn’t had so much as a sip to drink. Probably a good thing as I would have gone face-down asleep right there on my chips.

Babies don’t sleep this well.

The next day yielded a wealth of options. The only problem is when you’re from the Midwest, and you’re up and going two time zones away, NOTHING is open yet. Undaunted, we took to the planning phase of the day. It would go something like this; eat, take the monorail as far north as we could, from there, cab it downtown, play around on historic Fremont Street, cab back to the north end of the strip, eat the biggest hotdog known to man, then spend the rest of the day walking back from the Circus Circus area, to the Luxor. For the record, if you’ve never been to Vegas, the place if full of optical illusions. More specifically, things look really close that are a country mile away because everything’s so damn big. If you were to walk the length of Caesar’s Palace, you’ll cross three, maybe four streets and still be in front of it. So to start at one end of the strip, put your head down, don’t take time to see anything, oooh or ahhh (which is impossible by the way), and just walk, you’re still looking at probably 25 minutes.

Then the damndest thing happened, starting at Binions Horseshoe…we won. We didn’t win a lot. We weren’t breaking the bank or anything. But Josh, Sarah and I would sit down, buy in for $40 as was the trip custom, and then all cast a look to one another when it was time to get up, generally between $60-100 richer then when we sat. If you’ve been to Vegas, or any casino for that matter, you know how rarely it is that you win, let alone a party of three. Oh well…what a fluke. Then Four Queens, and we won. Then some other small place on Fremont Street, and won.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re clearly being punked by some hidden camera. Let’s all time out, head back to the strip, get a hot dog, have a Coke and a smile. And away we went.

Another Vegas destination is Slots-of-Fun casino at the north end of the strip. It’s a tiny, stand-alone place right in front of Circus Circus, and, as you may have guessed, it’s got a few tables, but mainly a ton of slots. But nestled up in the front corner of the place, is a little snack stand, where you can get a hot dog that’s roughly 16 inches long, and at least the diameter of a quarter. Easy big spender, it’ll cost you about $1.39. Want chili on that? $1.49. Chili and cheese? $1.59. Add a large coke, and you’re totally stuffed for about three bucks. It’s amazing. Now that we were refueled, the tour was to recommence.

We picked up right where we left off. Sit down, win. Go somewhere else, sit down, win. Freaky. The gambling gods looked upon us with favor, and nothing must be said that would seek their wrath, for they are fickle, and easily offended. So tips were paid to dealers, bets made on their behalf, if a deck was cut and profitable, the same person would cut again, good lucks and table bumps offered when someone had an ace dealt first, cheers when it was followed with a 10.

Then we stopped at O’Shea’s. This small haunt is right next to Harrah’s. It’s mostly open air, with a great view just to the south of Bellagio. After cab rides, lunch, and gambling from place to place, we were all ahead of the game, up for the day. Trina sought out some penny slots to get free drinks, and again, Josh, Sarah and I took to a table with our standard $40 buy-in. It was a $5 minimum double-deck game, the kind where they still let you touch the cards, and we were flanked at first and third base by 2 friends from Utah, I think. They seemed to be holding their own just fine before we got there, but once we sat, the gods saw fit to reward us all once more, as we won, and won, and won.

It was the kind of runs people dream about (or write blog entries about four years later). Of course, they usually dream about making these runs with black chips at $100 a pop, as opposed to the red $5 chips that occasionally totaled up to as much as $15 when we were feeling REALLY saucy. Nevertheless, the time passed, shuffle, cut, shuffle, cut, and on and on with everyone continuing to win. Before it was over, I’m pretty sure we tallied up around $600 between the three in our group. Hell with the buffet…it was time to go somewhere nice for dinner! Fat Burger or bust, baby! Actually, we were so spent that we barely made it through a late-night sandwich at the café in the Luxor and packed it in.

The bulk of our last full day there was a bit of a blur. We never spent a day at the pool, nor did we take much time to see attractions and do the tourist-y stuff we all planned on doing, mostly because we just kept winning. I figured we’d all be flat broke by 3 p.m. on day two. Instead, everything became a question of bets.

“Wanna see Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay?”
“Well we could, but at $20 a person, that’s like, four bets each!”
“Alright, let’s go find the tables.”
“Cab ride?”
“$15 bucks? Hell no. That’s as many as three bets!”
“Good God you’re right! Let’s walk five miles in 90 degrees!”

Under the auspices of the rationale “if some is good, more is better” we walked north again to find a seat at O’Shea’s. Somehow, Josh’s bankroll had dwindled down to about $50 or so. Not bad for someone who managed to gamble the whole trip on $200, but somehow managed to lose the previous day’s winnings. We found a table, and the cards hadn’t cooled down in the least.

I have no idea how long we were there? It had to be a couple hours. I was feeling pretty good about my whole state of being. I had cash in front of me, we were all winning well more then we were losing, and the unconventional play of doubling on a soft 18 was paying off in spades.

At $5-10 a crack, I was flirting with the $200 mark in pure profit for the day when I catch an elbow from Josh.

“Dude, I just tallied my money, and I’ve got $260 in front of me.”
“What? Are you serious? And you’ve already pocketed back your buy-in?”
“Yeah! What do we do now?”
“You push all your chips in the middle, ask him to color you up, and we get the hell out of here…immediately!”

Again, if some is good, more is better. Undaunted, he decided to press on, as I colored up my chips, and stood back to watch. The next four hands he was dealt natural 20’s…and lost all four time to four and five-card 21’s. Now it was really time to leave.

We spent the night modestly. We had a nice dinner in the Luxor. We walked down to see the pirate battle at Treasure Island, which has really gone downhill by the way. We didn’t sit and gamble so much as a dollar the rest of the trip.

Thursday came. Time to go home. Time to pack up and leave the glitz and glamour and rush all behind us. We sat in the terminal eating $7 Big Macs and talking about how soon we could get back. Spring? Summer? Next fall at the latest. See, that’s the thing about that whole town. You win, and you feel this level of invincibility. You feel like you were able to make it happen for yourself. You spend three days getting your ass kicked and you can’t leave the city fast enough. Ah hell, who am I kidding? I’d be fighting to get back either way.

Vegas '05 Part I

2009-07-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

When I have spare time, I like to read Bill Simmons articles on Page 2 of ESPN. I love his writings, and it doesn’t really matter what his topic is. They’re all good. But in particular, I really, really enjoy the ones he writes about his trips, nay, pilgrimages to Las Vegas. That said my inspiration was motivated to recount and recollect my own Vegas experiences in kind. One of them I touched on in my very first blog entry ever, and another was when I was a mere lad of 14 and went out for a wedding, not being of age to do anything worth talking about anyway. But I’ll touch on highlights of what would turn out to be the second, just for continuity.

August, 2001: In the works for years, literally, my grandmother took me to Vegas for my 21st birthday, which was actually that May. My dad and roommate, Andy, went with us. The majority of the trip was spent with Grandma Karen doing things with another friend of hers who happened to be there too, while the three of us crammed into a room and played blackjack at $3 a hand. To sum up, we all got our butts kicked and came home broke.

February, 2005: Katrina and I get the bright idea that in several months time, we are going to take Josh and a friend to Vegas for his 21st birthday. Brilliant!
October, 2005: A routine is born. Teeming with excitement and overwhelmed by our preponderance of procrastination, of course we aren’t yet packed. So hot pizza and cold coke became the dinner of choice while we taking turns packing and cleaning our house, all while talking about what we would do if we won a stupid amount of money, and watching the movie Casino for the umpteenth time.

At 0-dark-30 the following morning, I arose to rally the troops, get them dressed, pack their stuff in the car, brush their teeth, put in their contacts and all other manner of early rituals, just to drop them into the car and watch them all fall right back to sleep as I have to drive us to the Dayton airport, roughly 40 or so miles from our apartment to catch a 6 am flight. It’s an odd set of circumstances to deal with, driving before dawn with a bunch of people sleeping, trying not to wake them, but playing music loud enough and keeping the cabin temperature cool enough to keep them asleep but you awake. A delicate dance. A ballet, if you will.

After being hassled and searched just short of requiring a dinner for my time and services, we work our way on to the plane to be greeted by none other then a shoulder to shoulder packed flight and scattered seats to the point that we couldn’t even negotiate with a near-by passenger to swap with us. The only available seat on the whole plane is right next to me. Not a week before, Trina flew to New York for work, and was totally freaked out, no thanks to me, about flying to New York, near the anniversary of 9/11, and on the Ramadan. Now was time for payback as a lone middle-eastern gentleman with a turban was making his was to what was the only open seat left on the plane. I’m sorry to stereotype, but you came thought security, were “randomly” searched, then sniffed by bomb dogs, right? Glancing back and catching Trina’s eye as if to telepathically convey my fear, she just grins and nods as if to say “paybacks a bitch!” Yeah, if the plane explodes at 30,000 feet, you’ll live. All in all, I was fine until we started to taxi to the runway, and this guy puts his head down and starts to pray in Hindi. Dude, reach for your shoes, and I’m taking you out. I’ve never gotten off a plane so fast in my life.

After a quick jaunt through Dallas, we find ourselves on final approach to the aeronautic gateway to the majesty that is Las Vegas, Nevada. All I can hear in my head is Elvis signing “A Little More Conversation” as the early morning sun reflects off the Mandalay Bay hotel blinding all those who dare to look right at it. If you haven’t ever been to McCarren airport, it’s a trip. The excitement of the city swallows you immediately as you are greeted by clanging slot machines, and chain smokers fighting to the death to get a spot in the smokers lounge in each terminal. And thinking we would be smart and beat the rush, we just packed light, carrying everything on. Fat chance as we hit the sidewalk and find ourselves 30 people deep in line for a taxi. It’s 9:37 a.m. local time on a Monday in September. Don’t you people have jobs?

A short time later, the cousin of the guy that I sat next to on the first leg of the trip drops us of at the Luxor, we check in, and then review the plan of attack; gamble, drink, gamble, eat something, gamble, and gamble. Josh, God love him, comes strong with his $200 to gamble on for the week thinks he’s going to sit down at a poker table and pull a Mike McD, parlaying all that jack into several grand. Ah Hollywood. So on the fly, while walking the strip and seeing what all there is to see, I start briefing him on the rules and etiquette of the illustrious game that is Black Jack.

Our first experience at the table went up and down, but ultimately we came out with more then we sat down with, all in all netting probably $60 or so a piece. A little more walking found us back at the Luxor with all of us retiring to our rooms to rejuvenate a bit, not that I slept. I was wired. I was bitten by the bug. The sights, sounds, smells, all of it; I just wanted more.

I guess it was just a little while later, probably 7 or so, that Josh knocked on our door, and it was time to hit the trough again. Sarah was still asleep, so Josh, Trina, and I went down to enjoy the Burger Bar in Mandalay Bay. Then, like the Sirens beckoning Ulysses to the rocks, the tables called. Trina took her leave, went up to bed, and still riding the high of where we were, Josh and I took our seats at a $10 double-deck table.

Then, as if ripped from the pages of the “You know you should go to bed when…” manual, Josh quickly lost his buy in, while I couldn’t lose a hand. Ordinarily, I hate being the only one at the table, but when you’re winning four out of every five hands, you don’t leave. About the time the four wannabe high-rollers, a.k.a. IT guys at a conference away from their wives, sat down and immediately started complaining about my play. “What? You’re doubling down? Oh man! Split those. No not those. Why would you- ugh.” Hey, I’m all for table mojo, and these guys were doing their best to screw it up. So with my eyes crossing, I’m pretty sure I said something snarky about how I was the only one at the table winning, when Josh helped me to understand that it would be in my best interests to go to bed. Probably a good idea since it was a little after midnight local time, and I had now been up for 24 hours straight.

The NFL's Newest Off-field Incident

2009-06-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

If you’ve seen ESPN at all in the past few weeks, you’ve probably heard something about Cleveland Browns’ wide receiver Donte’ Stallworth being in court for a DUI which tragically resulted in the death of a pedestrian. If not, here’s the summary; Stallworth was hit a pedestrian while driving from somewhere to somewhere else in Miami. The man was jaywalking. He was killed as a result of the accident. And Stallworth’s BAC was over the legal limit.

He’s going to serve time. He’s going to lose his license, as it stands presently, for the rest of his life. He’s going to serve an incredible suspension from the league, imposed by Roger Godell. And he’s settled, or will be settling, out of court with the family to avoid a civil suit.

There are those that think the league has no right to suspend him. Incidentally, these are the same people that defended Plaxico Burress for this gun charge and Michael Vick about dog fighting. I have even read comments in response to ESPN articles that say the man is dead because he jaywalked, not because Stallworth was intoxicated.

Now that’s an interesting point. If Stallworth was sober, and the same incident took place, the man would be just as dead. That is, of course, that reflexes weren’t so impaired that Donte’ could have avoided the collision.

But as for the suspension, the league does have, and has had the right to adjudicate discipline for off-field incidents and behavior. They’re been doing it for years. So why now are people taking up arms? Could it have anything to do with the fact that a record number of million-dollar bonus baby retards are now engaged in off-field offenses with a feeling of invincibility?

Anyway, here’s my point. All these aforementioned retards can learn something from Stallworth. He screwed up. He is accepting the penalties of his actions. He has not made any excuses. He is not pleading his personal case with a woe is me attitude. What happened was a horrible thing. Could it have been avoided? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, he’ll have to live with what’s happened. And he has conducted himself earnestly and contritely at every turn. I’m sorry that any of it had to happen, but his conduct in dealing with his punishment is an example that the rest of the league could stand to learn from.

F150 vs Ramsey

2009-06-16T12:46:00.000-07:00

Probably a little less than a year ago, my wife turned me on to the newest financial guru in the business, Dave Ramsey. I’m not into gurus, finance, and while we’re at it, I don’t much like talking politics/politicians either. Ultimately, I’m not real big on people who tell me how to do me, or feel the need to try to protect me from me. But she was really into this guy, listened to him on the radio, always was on his website, so on and so forth. I didn’t give it a lot of thought until I realized that my mom was saying very similar things independent of my wife, serving to me to illustrate that this guy might just be the real thing. At the very least, what did I have to lose by reading his book?

Now, ultimately, I’m not writing this to hype Dave, but seeing as we’re here, read the book. Here’s the caveat; you have to make it into, probably, the 7th or 8th chapters. Sounds easy enough doesn’t it? Well, it’s easy enough to read, but it’s hard not to get irritated and put it down. Why? Because you’re going to be told that in spite of your best efforts to understand the financial world that envelops us all, chances are, you’re still wrong. Buy a car for 0% interest thinking you were making a smart move financially? Wrong. Using credit cards at 0% to buy things to “beat the system”? Wrong. Getting some kind of consolidation loan (2nd mortgage, HELOC, etc) to get out of credit card debt? Wrong. And yeah, I know what you’re thinking because I thought all these were the best ways of doing things too. He’ll show you the math as to why that methodology is mistaken, but you can only lead a horse to water.

Bottom line: the only way to beat debt into the ground and keep it there, is to alter your thinking, dismissing everything you think you knew, and consider something new.

My wife and I decided to try it. And yes, it did require a new mentality. Yes it did require us to make sacrifices. But I was really surprised once we got underway with the whole thing, how much we really didn’t miss. Furthermore, it was surprising how much our lifestyle didn’t really have to change.

Here is the problem: I want a new car. According to Dave, it is something of a sin to buy a brand new car. Well, that’s not totally right. More accurately, it’s a sin to buy a brand new car at this point in my life. And that part isn’t the trouble. I can find something that I like that is a few years old with reasonable mileage. The problem is, that I want it now. That is not something of a sin, but rather THE CARDINAL SIN of the Dave Ramsey plan. You never, ever, ever finance a vehicle.

I was told that I could have a new car under the following conditions: the credit cards that I have had to be paid off…check. And the payments had to be equal or less than what we pay for the car I have now…check. If I was to hold on to my car for as little as about 10 months, it’s paid off. Anything after that is essentially profit. I can handle 10 months. What’s bothering me is in order to make the best possible financial decision available, I would continue to pack that payment that I was making towards making a purchase in cash later on. But that, however, means making roughly a $400 payment to myself for another 4 years! And that’s just no good. Stupid crisis of conscience. I guess that must mean I’m growing up…and it sucks.

Summer Flicks '09

2009-06-12T07:44:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while since I have been excited about the summer movie season. Actually, it’s been a very long time. Movies have been getting more and more expensive, $10 per person in the Cincinnati area on average, and for that reason, it’s taking a more and more impressive movie to convince me to spend that amount. I’ve been a party to some pretty lousy investments in the past few years. But this summer has a host of films queuing up to be the next blockbuster.

So far, we’ve seen three.

Fast and Furious: The latest installment of what has been labeled “car porn”. Pretty cars, pretty people, some good driving, and not a lot CGI. No, it’s not going to do anything for the academy, and no, it’s probably not going to get many stars. But it was a lot of fun to see, and I thought it was totally worth the investment.

Star Trek: Easily the best movie I’ve seen in probably the last ten years. Easily one of my favorite movies of all-time. Yes, it was just that good. Totally worth it.

Terminator Salvation: I’m a Terminator devotee, but this one fell short I’m afraid. I didn’t much care for it. The production staff overlooked some aspects of the Terminator storyline, that a lot of people will overlook, and will irritate others. Thing is, they didn’t need to. I know that there are some points in sequels that are swept under the rug for the interest of making the next one. But that wasn’t the case here. It was like they started making this one, not having seen the first three. But these days, 2-1 is a pretty good record for movies in the theatre.

What’s left this summer?

Up: I’m really sorry that I haven’t managed to see this one yet. But everyone that I know that has seen it says it’s amazing. Apparently it’s worth seeing in 3-D.

Angels and Demons: The DaVinci Code didn’t do so well as a movie. But this book is often overlooked. Personally, I thought the book was better then it’s better-known sibling. But I’m not convinced it’s worth the money to see on the big screen.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine: I like Hugh Jackman, and I like Ryan Reynolds, but I kinda forgot about this one shortly after it came out. That doesn’t make a strong argument for seeing it in the theatre.

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen: I thought the first one was pretty good. This one is shaping up to be at least as good, if not better. And incidentally, the name “Revenge of the Fallen” sure sounds a lot like the bad guys win, or at least don’t lose (a la The Empire Strikes Back). Be on the look out for a trilogy.

Public Enemies: Johnny Depp cracking wise as John Dillinger? Oh bring it on. This one looks awesome.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Take my ManCards away, I don’t care. I love the whole Potter series. I’ll be there

G.I. Joe: I’m really not expecting anything great from this movie, except to be totally entertained. I know there won’t be any Oscars given out for it, and it’ll probably get really lousy reviews. But it looks like it will be a lot of fun, and entertaining as hell.

Place to Go, People to See

2009-06-05T08:22:00.000-07:00

I don’t know why I always seem to write things in lists? Maybe because I think it’s funny, or entertaining. Maybe it’s because that is the way I best quantify and process information. In any event, it’s what I do. So I was thinking the other night, while watching TV, about fictional places I thought were interesting, entertaining, appealing, or impressive. And from that, I started thinking about which of these I might like to visit, were they real. Now, this isn’t quite as hard as you might think, because more and more movies and TV shows are being set in real places. It would be much harder to, say, figure out five or ten characters that you’d like to meet. Of course, that said, that challenge will probably be one of my next posts, so stay tuned.

So here then, are the fictional places I would visit, were they real, or were I fake…

Springfield- I would love to have a Krusty burger, though now that I’ve typed it and read it to myself it actually sounds horrible, and some Lard Lad donuts with Homer and company. While we’re at it, let’s bowl a few frames at the Bowlarama, sit in the shade of the stature of Jebediah Springfield, and throw junk into Shelbyville.

Shermer, Illinois- If you’ve ever seen a John Hughes movie from the mid 80’s, you’ve seen or heard of Shermer, Illinois. All his movies take place there. It’s a magical place, where, according to Jay (Dogma) “all the honeys are top shelf, but the dudes are whiny pu#%ies…except Judd Nelson. He was f&%kinf harsh.”

Alren, Texas- Dale’s Dead Bug, Strickland Propane, and Sugarfoot’s BBQ. Oh yeah, and standing out in the alley with Hank, Bill, Dale, and Boomhauer talking about nothing that matters to anyone. Yup. Yup. Yep. Mm-hmm.

Hogwarts, England- Okay, Hogwarts isn’t really a city per se. But it is most definitely a fictional place, none the less. And to be fair, Hogwarts is really only part of the equation. While there, I’d have to take a trip through Diagon Alley. You know, for supplies and stuff. Black calderon? Check. Owl? Check. Wand? Check. Let’s do this.

Bon Temps, Louisiana- I don’t know what it is about vampires that fascinates people more than any other mystical monster? But for every Frankenstein, Mummy, or Zombie movie or TV show, there’s 5 featuring vampires. Bon Temps in Bernard Parish just barely edged out Forks, Washington. I think True Blood’s Bill is just a little bit cooler than Twilight’s Edward. But I would like to ask the Cullen family why they are able to survive in daylight?

Movie Lines

2009-05-28T09:50:00.000-07:00

AFI.com can be a pretty fun site to poke around on if you’re into movies. The American Film Institute keeps tabs on the greatest everything in movies. Their site has running lists of the best heroes, villains, scores, songs, laughs, thrills, and on and on and on. But what I like looking at the most is the best single lines from movies through out the history of film. What’s really interesting is that you don’t really have to have seen the movie to know the lines. Most people have heard the line (or at least an allusion to the line) “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” You don’t need to have seen Gone With the Wind to know that one. Or how about “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Or maybe “Show me the money!” And I don’t care if you’ve never seen A Few Good Men. You’ve heard someone say, “You can’t handle the truth!”

These lines are cinemagaphic history. They are single instances that have made such a cultural impact that everyone knows them no matter if you’ve seen the movie or not. Powerful stuff to be sure. Powerful stuff from classic pieces of art ranging back over 80 plus years. I wish I had something so powerful to offer. But what I have now is a list of my own favorite lines. These are the ones that make me grin when I’m sitting at work with not a lot going on and I need to pass the time. And while some of AFI’s greatest lines would surely make my list, I’m making a point to omit anything they’ve covered. So in no particular order…

“Stop trying to strike everybody out. Strikeouts are boring and besides that they’re fascist. Throw some groundballs. It’s more democratic.”
See, I shouldn’t have started with Bull Durham because there are just too many lines in that movie worth knowing. Just rent it. Better yet, buy it.

“Do you even know how to drive an automatic?” –What Happens in Vegas

“Son, I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?” Followed closely by “Why is the rum gone?” –Pirates of the Caribbean

“My wife took the whole planet in the divorce.” And “You’re father was a starship captain for 12 minutes and saved the lives of 600 people. I dare you to do better.” –Star Trek

“I get older…they stay the same age.” –Dazed and Confused

“We called to tell her you’re at lunch?” –Hitch

“You’re scared of our Navy. You should be. Personally, I give us… one chance in three. More tea anyone?” –The Hunt for Red October

“Pvt. Santiago is dead, and that is a tragedy. But he is dead because he had no honor. He is dead because he had no code. And God was watching.” –A Few Good Men

Times Were...

2009-04-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

I’ve been getting back into playing tennis lately. I played a ton when I was a kid. From about 12 or so years-old through high school, between lessons, leagues, and recreational matches, I couldn’t even guess how much time I put in on the court. In any event, it was a lot.

I took a bit of a hiatus through college. It was due almost exclusively to the fact that I couldn’t find anyone to play against, and membership fees to an indoor club were not an option. So I put it on the shelf for a while, took the opportunities to play whenever they arose, and followed the game and it’s pros a little less aggressively than I had in high school.

Jump ahead until now, about 6 years later, and I’ve been fortunate enough to make a new friend who can play the game. And by play the game, I mean he’s more than just a backstop. I’m getting out and running around more, getting stronger in areas that have been dormant for a while, and getting enough pt that I’m considering getting a new racquet.

So to that end, here’s what I’ve noticed about the changes I’ve seen in the game as a whole…

Times were: hitting an open-stance forehand was lazy, inefficient, and somewhat frowned upon as overall bad technique; trademark of someone who did not have good coaching.
Now: you better figure it out in short order. People hit with more pace now then ever before and taking the extra step, while good form, isn’t always possible with a 90 mph groundstroke closing in on you. Not to mention, the way you have to slide on surfaces like clay necessitate at least knowing how to hit from an open stance.

Times were: you were bombing serves at 110 mph. I remember the first US Open that I really paid attention to was a match featuring Jimmy Connors, which should tell you that was probably 20 years ago give or take. It was amazing to everyone that his serve was moving around 108. Pete Sampras helped to elevate the serve smacking them in the mid-120’s with pin point control. And monster lefty Goran Ivanisevic was a marvel dropping bombs in the neighborhood of almost 140. As far as the women’s tour, Brenda Schultz-McCarthy set the benchmark being the first woman to hit the 120 mark in the early 90’s.
Now: Andy Roddick has been recorded as dropping the biggest bomb at 155 mph. And for that matter, if he hits one as slow as 115, he’s hurt or exhausted.

Times were: a western-grip for ground strokes was novel. The first people I remember with really western grips were mostly clay players with big, looping ground strokes. But then I remember reading about Jim Courier holding his forehand western to evoke more spin naturally.
Now: does anyone use anything else?

Times were: you would never, ever, ever, ever swing at a volley. Showy, inefficient, nearly impossible to control, just bad tradecraft.
Now: you can thank the great Andre Agassi for laying rest to those statements. He’d take a chest-high ball and swing away no matter where he was on the court. Now, like an open stance on ground strokes, its common practice.

Times were: racquets were wood.
Now: who the hell knows what all materials they use these days? But I guess that’s just technology and product advancements. What I found more interesting is the head size. As the materials changed, the racquets got lighter, the heads got bigger, which is not hard when compared to their wood counterparts. They tended to settle around the 95 square inch mark for mid-size models, and 110 for oversize. Then something interesting happened- they started getting smaller again. Pete Sampras and Jim Courier used the original Wilson ProStaff. That thing was a heavy club with an 85 square inch head. A lot of people thought they were nuts. Now, the philosophy of the players has changed such that they are moving back towards smaller heads and heavier racquets. A mid-size now is likely to run close to 90 or 93 inches. They still have the 95 inch models, but some of them now run all the way down to 85. Not to mention, Oversizes seem to run to the 105 mark anymore. I guess it all speaks to the evolution of the player getting stronger and wanting an edge in control.

Funny what you pick up…

A Prayer to the Paton Saints...

2009-02-23T13:07:00.000-08:00

A very, very, very odd combination of events conspired with one another to lead me to write this. Actually, I guess all in all the events, themselves, are not odd. It’s the combination of them and their occurrence that is the odd part.

Probably two weeks ago (maybe three), The Da Vinci Code was on TV. If you haven’t seen the movie or read the book, I’m a little surprised. But the main character, Robert Langdon, is a professor of symbology, which really seems more to be a professor of all disciplines of history, sociology, and human geography. Anyway, he makes reference to the origins of the date Friday the 13th as being unlucky. I couldn’t remember what the year was, so I decided to re-read the book, find the date, and cross check some of the facts in the novel against whatever information I could find on the web.

As I read the book for the second time, there were a great number of things that caught my attention. Some of them jumped right out. Some of them were a bit more subtle. Some of them were wrapped in a character profile, some made allusions to religious history, some were dates, some were events, places, the list goes on and on. A lot of people have heard of The Knights Templar, particularly if you saw any Indiana Jones movies, with the exception of the most recent one, which was about the cinemagraphic equivalent of driving a nail through my hand. What about Freemasons, and some of their famous alumni? Famous works of art, and various speculations about undertones that most people don’t notice, or don’t care about?

So now as I’m reading, why not find out a little more about these things that a lot of people have heard about and forgotten? I’ve randomly googled so many different things in the past week, if someone is monitoring my threads, they’re going to think I’m going off to a Holy War. But today, I came across a name that most people have heard; Edward the Confessor. Here’s a little background just because… He was an Anglo-Saxton King, and the last of The House of Wessex. He was coroneted April 3rd, 1043. He was succeeded by Harold Godwinson. Harold II was the one responsible for pleading the case for canonization before Pope Alexander III in 1161. So? I dunno. Just thought you’d like to know. What this has to do with anything is this; Edward was named the Patron Saint of kings, difficult marriages, and separated spouses.

There’s a Paton Saint of difficult marriages and separated spouses?

So that got me thinking; what other odd things are there Patron Saints of? You would be shocked…

Are you an arms dealer? Then you’ll be wanting the additional protection of Adrian of Nicomedia. How about a bartender, Boy Scout, or innkeeper? You’ll want to find Amand. Anthony of Padua watches over brush makers. St. Christopher looks out for travelers, surfers, and athletes. Magnus of Avignon, as well as Peter the Apostle aid the safety of your neighborhood fishmonger considerably. Incidentally, Peter the Apostle is also the Patron Saint of about eight other things too.

Earlier this afternoon, my friend Aaron suggested we make a less-than-Holy pilgrimage to a nearby casino riverboat. What does this have to do with anything what so ever? It means I have say an extra prayer to St. Cajetan, the Patron Saint of gamblers and good fortune. Incidentally, he’s also the Paton Saint of the unemployed as well as job seekers. I guess that’s not really a coincidence huh?

The Stars Are Announced!

2009-02-09T09:56:00.000-08:00

Last night, ABC delivered the cast of the newest season of Dancing With the Stars. Always one to armchair quarterback, why not jump right into speculation on who’s going to win? I’m pretty sure my pre-show assessments last season were pretty accurate, but this season is delving deeper into obscurity than seasons past. Nevertheless, onward!

Lil’ Kim: Rapper, recording artist, and occasional actress. She has made dance songs and subsequent videos. She should be able to do some damage, as recording artists have been able to do in the past i.e. Spice Girl Mel B. But rappers have not had a long shelf life in this competition in the past (see also: Master P).

Steve-O: Wildboy and TV personality. This guy just gets on my ever-loving nerves. I can’t possibly imagine he’s going to take this at all seriously. Look for an early departure.

Nancy O’Dell: TV personality. She’s one of those “I think I’ve heard the name before” types. If nothing else, she is a very elegant lady, which by itself will make her look better even if she doesn’t dance as well right off. That may buy her some time to continue to improve, assuming she’s not strong from the beginning.

Lawrence Taylor: Retired football great. Retired football players have done very, very well in the past (see also: Emmitt Smith, see also: Warren Sapp). Of course, that assumes he’ll lay off the sauce while in rehearsals…and by sauce, I mean crack.

Shawn Johnson: Olympian. Olympians also have a strong track record in this contest (see also: Kristi Yamaguchi, see also: Maurice Green). Again pushing the age barrier, she is the third contestant they’ve had in three straight seasons to break the youngest mark. Rhythm and grace should come easily.

Chuck Wicks: Country something or another. Not a clue who this guy is? Apparently he’s dating Julianne Hough, which sounds like it might be enough of a reason to get her back on the show for another season…so he’s alright in my book.

Gilles Marini: Actor. Most famous for his outdoor shower scene showing his dong in the Sex and the City movie (yes I saw it and I was not the only guy in the theatre thank you very much!), I think he had what, 2 lines? But the imports have done well here, so who knows (see also: Christian De La Fuente)?

Denise Richards: Actress. And speaking of naked scenes, I’d like to hearken back to the fine cinemagraphic masterpiece that was “Wild Things”. Pretty ladies who get on just because they’re good looking are hit or miss. You can either get a Brooke Burke (winner), or a Kim Kardashian (bounced in the 3rd week which was 2 weeks too many).

Steve Wozniak: Apple co-founder. Ah hell, I dunno.

Belinda Carlisle: Singer. She reminds me of the second coming of Perscilla Presley. She even kinda looks like her.

David Alan Grier: Actor, comedian. Comedians don’t have a good track record on this show. All we have to do is look back the past two seasons to Jeff Ross and Adam Carolla, respectively.

Ty Murray: Cowboy. I don’t think there’s ever been a cowboy on this show before. But more people only know who this guy is because he married Jewel. And speaking of which…

Jewel: Singer. I don’t think she has anything better to do. And I think it’ll only be a matter of time until she makes some manner of political statement or does some activist thing.
The partners have not been announced yet. Stay tuned.

The New Year

2008-12-30T11:38:00.001-08:00

I’m delinquent in my posting. But with the New Year looming and a little lull at work, I decided I to post something.

I’m not usually a fan of making devout resolutions for the New Year. Who follows them? I mean really think about it for a minute. Anyone over the age of, say, 25 makes the same two resolutions every year. Loose weight and get out of debt. Yeah right. Very cliché isn’t it? We’ve all done it, myself included. And you know what I found out about loosing weight? The fact of the matter is that I’m not willing to do what’s necessary to loose it. Cut out pizza, Chipotle, Coke and Sour Patch Kids? Don’t think so. I’m curvy, and I like it! And get out of debt? Who gets out of debt in this country? No one! Want it now, have it now, pay for it over the next few years. It’s might as well be printed right on the hard currency that no one carries anymore because we’re all paying for it later.

Isn’t it ironic then, that my resolutions, at least two of them, have to do with fitness and finances? Yeah, I thought so too.

Physical:
When I was cheering in college, I was probably in the best shape I’ve ever been in. I was about 6’2” and weighed about 200-205 depending on the day. Of course all I did was walk everywhere on campus and when I wasn’t in class, I was lifting either weights or people. Now, getting on to six years after the fact, I’m the same height and about 20 pounds heavier. It’s not all bad weight, but it’s enough that I notice. But I know that I’m not going to take the time and make the necessary effort to get back to that weight. Instead, I’m going to resolve to be as fit as I can be at 225. I want to be able to bench 250 safely, and run two miles. I’m not a runner, and I’ve always hated doing it. But my goal is to be able to drop whatever I’m doing whenever I feel the need, and be able to get through two miles at a run without walking, stopping, throwing up, or whatever. If I drop some weight in the process, all the better.

Financial: Ever read Dave Ramsey? If you haven’t, you should think about it, and I don’t care who the “you” in question is that’s reading this. Chances are it’s my mom or my wife, who have already read it. His book is a no kidding, straight shooting guide to having money for the rest of your life. There are plenty of money gurus out there with books telling you this, that, and the other. His seems to make the most sense, and I’ve done my best to adopt his plan. To that end, getting totally out of debt this year may not be in the cards. I’m going to work at it as best I can, but I don’t want to pin all my hopes to it so I don’t feel terrible if I come up short. However, my goal is this; to become the best, most sought after, qualified consumer in my tax bracket. Okay, perhaps a bit of an exaggeration. Besides, Dave’s plan revolves around never having to use credit anyway. But even in spite of the credit crisis, I want to be the buyer that lenders fight over. 750+ credit score, here I come.

The NFL Kisses it's Sister

2008-11-17T09:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to see the Bengals play live and in person. There are a number of people in the world, a great many that are rolling their eyes and asking themselves “Why?” Yeah, I know, they suck. Can’t help it…I love football, and I’m a die-hard (actually die VERY hard considering the past 20 years) Bengals fan. So my Dad and I made the drive, all 20 minutes of it, traded our high-up seats and a $20 for a few that were pretty much right on the field, and sat outside on the coldest day of this fall season so far to watch the Bengals do battle with the Eagles. Worst-case scenario we see Donovan McNabb play ball.

Ryan Fitzpatrick, playing for the injured Carson Palmer looked solid for a half. Then in an effort to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, early success going through his reads and bad offensive play calling took hold. Fitzpatrick got locked into one side of the field, didn’t go through his checks, failed to see several blitz packages coming, and the coaching staff couldn’t figure out that running the ball right up the middle over and over (and over and over) just couldn’t get it done.

The defense was a totally different story. The greatest thing a pro athlete can do is play a year or two in Cincinnati, regardless of the sport. They’ll go on to be superstars as soon as they leave. So when the Bengals took the defense that forced a +25 turnover ratio in 2005 (yes the year they won the AFC North) and broke them into pieces, trading away some and not signing free agents for what they were clearly worth, the dark clouds came again. However, this year’s defense has played well about their pay grade. They held the Cowboys in check as much as anyone else has. They kept the Giants, a team with a fantastic 3-headed monster of a running game to few enough points to go to overtime. And don’t forget, we are talking about Super Bowl Champions a year ago. And yesterday they held the Eagles, a very prolific offensive team, to just 13 points with 1 fumble and 3 interceptions. That’s a hell of a day, and should be almost an open and shut win…unless your offense can only manage to put up 13 points as well.

There are a number of things I could say about the game yesterday from “who doesn’t go for it on 4th and goal on the 1, but then does go for it on 4th and 16 on the 35?” I could talk about missing field goals from 41 yards in overtime that would’ve won the game. But what really bothers me is the NFL’s rules on overtime as a whole. Sudden death? Really? So the flip of a coin could mean a hard fought game comes down to one or two plays and then it’s over? No good. The NCAA got this one right. One team scores, the other team gets one drive to match it, and so on and so forth, until one team stops the other. 2 overtime, now you can’t kick the point after…you have to go for two. Someone wins.

So after 4 hours of sitting in the COLDEST DAY OF THE YEAR, I found out that the NFL will allow a game to END IN A TIE! After an overtime period, with time winding down, still tied 13-13, Shayne Graham pushed a 41-yard field goal attempt wide to the right as time expired. Should he have made it? 41 yards out is not a gimme, but well within his range. So yeah, he should’ve put it through and won the game. But the clock clicked to 00:00, the score was tied, and football kissed it’s sister.

I hate sudden death overtimes. But I think that I can overlook sudden death overtime in favor or someone winning the game! The NFL meets annually to review rules and make changes. This year, for example, all facemask penalties will cost a team 15 yards. Also, there is no more force-out rule, so receivers must, under all circumstances get 2 feet down in-bounds with the ball or it’s not a catch. Good calls, both of them. But this off season, allowing a game to end in a tie really needs to be addressed by the league.

And Then There Were 6...

2008-11-04T06:12:00.001-08:00

Last night added an interesting twist to the competition. Of course the remaining contestants performed one dance with their partner. But then they were broken into two teams of six (3 pros and 3 celebs) and performed a group dance. There was team Cha Cha Cha, and team Paso Doble. But we’ll get back to that…

Warren for the first time looked like he was really struggling. His Foxtrot was competent, but boring. Actually, he looked like he was fighting off an illness or working through an injury. He’s still strong, but last night just wasn’t hit best.

Susan Lucci just looked confused, particularly in the group dance. She did pretty well with her Paso Doble. But considering we’re down to six people, she’s rearranging furniture on a sinking ship.

Maurice Greene came strong. He was entertaining and confident. He only checked in with a 25 though. I think he deserved a little better, but considering some of the other semi-dull performances of the evening, his score was high enough that he should live to dance again.

Cody Linley is still on my nerves. However, I thought he put together a very nice routine considering he had to switch partners and dance with someone he didn’t know. And for the matter, he had to learn and perform two dances with her. I still don’t think he has the firepower to go all the way, but it would be a real shame to dismiss him on the week that he was made to work with a new partner

Lance Bass needs to drop the hammer on his partner and in short order. Stop pushing the envelope, rebelling, trying to stand out for all the wrong reasons, or whatever the hell you think you’re doing, and just dance. Last night I thought their Rumba was very nice. But Lacey decided the gimmick of the week was to do it barefoot. Why? Len had enough and dropped the hammer on them scoring them 2 points less than either of the other two judges. His comment was that “you don’t need that nonsense”. And he has a point. Lance should be a strong contender for the finals if his partner doesn’t get him bounced just for the sake of being different.

Brooke Burke was fantastic turning in the first perfect score of the year. She deserved every single point of it too. All of the judges, Tom, Samantha, and her own partner all said that there were points in the routine that they didn’t know that she wasn’t a professional…and they’re totally right.

The group dances were a fun addition. Team Cha Cha Cha was Cody, Lance, and Susan with their respective partners. They, umm….well….they sucked. They were rarely in synch with anything they did, and Susan just looked flat out confused? She looked like she had no idea where to go or how to get there. Or for that matter what to do once she was there. Lance and Lacey were the highlight in their brief solo routine and were told so by the judges, further illustrating the fact that YOU SHOULD STOP REBELLING AND JUST DANCE! That’s right, I’m looking at you Lacey!

Team Paso was really impressive. They were entertaining, had fun, looked great. They were just flat out better and there was no contest. Putting Warren and Brooke, historically the two most consistent competitors of the season on the same team hardly seemed fair. But Warren and Susan were the team captains, therefore allowing them to choose their teams. They blew it up with a 29.

Survival of the Fittest

2008-10-28T06:58:00.001-07:00

This season isn’t going to be about who can learn more techniques. This season’s winner isn’t going to be who can most elegantly perform a Viennese Waltz or impressive Mambo. This year is strictly going to be a question of the last person standing. Brooke Burke, the heavy favorite so far is nursing a foot injury that has slowed her down a bit, and now Julianne Hough is going to be our for a while due to surgery.

Here’s my summary of what I considered to matter at all last night as far as the dancing goes.

Cloris needs to go. And after the judges gave her straight 5’s, I don’t know how she can possibly stay another week?

While we’re at it, can we go ahead and lose Susan Lucci too? She constantly looks rigid and stiff. I thought she would’ve had a better grasp of how to flow and be elegant? Oh well.

Lance and Lacey are so hit or miss on following the rules that you never know with them. Last night, they seemed to be back on point and did a nice job. If only they’d have done that from the beginning…

Maurice Greene was all right, again. But when it comes down to the wire, he won’t be able to hang I don’t think.

Cody Linley seems to be getting a little more serious about his rehearsal time. But he keeps making stupid faces on the floor while he’s dancing? With his partner sidelined for a while, he’ll be dancing with Edyta, who we just can’t seem to make go away and stay away. I will feel bad for him though, on some level, if changing partners ends up costing him his spot on the show.

Warren Sapp is still ultra-smooth and I still think he’s going to be around until the finals.

Brooke Burke fought through an injury to score a 26 which included one 10 from guest judge Michael Flatley. Yeah…the Lord of the Dance.

But there are two points that I would like to make which have little to do with the dancing. First, I think the judges have flat out had enough of Cloris. After a scathing score, Carrie Ann made the point that she was upset that they lost Toni Braxton last week for “this”. The “this” in question would be Cloris’ lousy performance this week. But, secondly, I thought Michael Flatley did a great job as a guest judge. He was constructively critical without being an ass, and was insightful and interesting. I could easily lose Carrie Ann as a regular judge in favor of keeping Michael Flatley as a regular addition.

Everything I Really Need to Know, I Learned From Men's Health

2008-10-21T08:16:00.000-07:00

When I’m killing some additional time at work, like a lot of people, I do some web surfing. I have my favorite sites for different reasons, and no, none of them are illicit or profane. But what has quickly become one of my favorites is Men’s Health magazine’s site. They have a section to search called “Guy Wisdom”. Women reading this blog are making jokes that you click on the link and “server error” pops up, I’m sure. But there’s some really interesting stuff in there. And I think the reason that I have enjoyed it so much is that the information is all supplied in chronological lists depending on their importance. They address a ton of topics in there, and I’ve read so many of them that they are running together. But here are some of my favorites from various published lists.

From: 17 Things Every Man Should Try

Leave work early for a midweek afternoon ball game. Tell no one. Go alone. Strive to notice the subtleties TV doesn't show: the third baseman cheating a step before the pitch; where the center fielder sets up; whether that sweet creature two rows over really likes baseball or is just there for her boyfriend. Toss the ticket stub on the way out; you were never there. We guarantee you'll remember this game longer than if you got permission from the wife and went with five buddies.

Be debt-free. Compounding interest is like a sorority girl on Ecstasy. She'll go both ways, but you get a hell of a lot more out of it when she's going your way.

Read a novel with more than 300 pages, written before 1950, set somewhere other than the United States.

You think you're tough? Say exactly what's on your mind when you're at your most vulnerable. We'll see how tough you are.

And my personal favorite and the one I probably struggle with the most…

Go a week without quoting anyone. When you consider movies, late-night monologues, sportscasters, bosses, wives, kids, founding fathers, regular fathers, Shakespeare, philosophers, and Homer Simpson, this suddenly becomes a lot harder than you thought, huh?

From: 15 Resolutions That Make You a Better Man

Have you noticed? It's a presidential election year, again. This time around, let's all remember that there's far more that unites us than divides us. So keep the conversation civil, your vote in perspective, and your humility in place.

Congratulations on finally going hands-free while driving. Now try going phone-free when backing out of the parking space, and iPod-free while changing lanes, smart guy.

There's nothing that happens after 11:30 p.m. that can't be replied to or TiVo'd the next day. Hit the pillow for some restorative sleep, then hit the ground running tomorrow, while others are still trying to find their legs (and their Starbucks gift cards).

From: 19 Things You Should Never Do

Keep a home-run ball hit by the opposing team. Or one hit by any player on the juice. We don't care if it's worth millions. Throw it back or you're a traitor.

Talk salary. The more you make, the easier it is to cheapen your image.

From: 25 Things Worth Waiting For (This whole list is outstanding)

The day your strength catches up with your ego. Needing a spot on the first rep doesn't impress anyone.

Your second reaction, after the first thermonuclear flash of anger.

The new business cards with your new title.

The rare sequel, season finale, or Super Bowl that actually lives up to its hype.

From: 40 Unwritten Rules to Live By

Never ask a woman if she wants to have sex by asking her if she wants to have sex.

Yes, speak softly and carry a big stick. But don't mumble. And don't swing the stick.

Do not get a visible tattoo larger than your penis.

Never buy anyone a gift at a kiosk.

Never make any sort of generalization concerning gender, even if it's so true God himself would back you up.

Never suggest to another person at the gym that he's not working hard enough to accomplish anything.

From: 18 Things Worth Fighting For

Your favorite band/movie/team/political party/religion—which, you've just been told, sucks. It may indeed suck. So what? Someone just ground your passions under his heel. Let him have some.

Your right to leave the bar as early and as soberly as you want. You will be called many names. You are none of these things.

A free phone. They get a check every month for 2 years? Yeah, free phone.

The remote. A guy we know broke his leg fighting for the remote. And he'd do it again.

They have so many published lists of great ideas. And yes, it all seems simple with some interjected humor. But a lot of them make a lot of sense on some level or another. And even if the goal was just to get a grin, chances are it worked. So they must be doing something right.
http://www.menshealth.com/mhlists/guy-wisdom/index_all.php

A Slow News Day...

2008-10-09T08:08:00.001-07:00

It’s a slow news day today. How do I know it’s a slow news day? I know because everyday I’m at work I find time to catch up on the state of affairs by reading msn.com. I’ll take it over a newspaper any day of the week, mostly because I can read it at my desk and no one thinks I’m rude for breaking out a paper in the middle of a workday.

In the midst of the events of the past few weeks and I’m sure the next few months, there has been headline after headline about the bank bailout and the upcoming election. They also have the latest Hollywood headlines and such, but national news and whatever crisis is prevalent always takes center stage. Today is no different.

So how do I know that today is a slow news day? Because one of the links on the scrolling headline banner on msn.com today has to do with a buyer’s guide to purchasing lingerie. No kidding.

I don’t know how women go about buying lingerie? My primitive male mindset suggests to me that they go into a store, see something they like, maybe try it on to confirm that they like it and that it fits, they buy it, and take it home. I’m sure there is plenty of comparison shopping and holding things up and numerous other hoops that are jumped through to facilitate the transaction. But appealing to the lowest common denominator, see it, like it or not, try it on, still like it or not, buy it or start looking again.

Want to know how men buy lingerie? No, this is not some twisted allusion to going to Hustler Hollywood and buying something trashy, edible, or both. I mean the real kind. Something you’d get your wife or girlfriend at Victoria’s Secret. Something elegant, flattering, and attractive. Men have a see it buy it mentality. Women will comparison shop all day for lip-gloss. Men will make a long-term purchase based on packaging and pretty colors. But shopping for lingerie, assuming you’re really trying to make an effort and not trying to get a cheap thrill by walking around lacey things all day, happens very differently in several steps.

Walk and forth in front of the store trying to convince yourself that you are not a pervert for going in without a woman present. Not only does your mom not count, it’s a little weird.
Summoning your inner strength, enter the store. Nothing will be where you think it would be, and the layout will make no sense causing your to walk around like a little lost child further illustrating that you are a novice.

Find something you think would be attractive.

Find something the recipient would think is attractive.

Reconcile one item against the other until a decision is made.

Root through the items you have approved until your find the desired garment in the necessary size.

Hold up several different styles and sizes, and with a puzzled look on your face, look at the butts and breasts of everyone walking around trying to estimate appropriate size vs physical proportions. You’ll probably be having a conversation with yourself at a low mumble at this point.

Realize that you’re not sure what the necessary size is. It doesn’t matter because even if you knew, it wouldn’t be easily available.

Decide on a size.

Second-guess yourself several times until a member of the staff comes to help you. Because life is not without a sense of irony, chances are it’ll be some 19 year-old hard body who is looking at you like you’re a sicko in spite of the fact that there is clearly a wedding ring on your hand.

Discuss your choice of style and size with this person, yes the one who clearly thinks you’re a pervert, which will prompt the rest of the sales staff to rally around you to offer their opinion. Of course you’re the only person in the store, so everyone’s free at the very moment.

Make your decision, purchase the item, leave and resolve never to do that again. Not never to buy something like that again, but not to do so without having a better grasp of sizes and variations depending on the cut.

This is a great process to undertake if you feel, at some point; like your head is getting too big and you need a dose of reality. You can make any number of decisions. Color, cut, material, whatever. And with each and every decision there lurks a wrong answer and a subsequent mistake to be made. Ultimately, there is one and only one golden rule when it comes to buying such things. You can pick an ugly color, lousy cut, cheap material, doesn’t matter. All you have to remember is when it comes right down is when in doubt, err on the side of buying one size too small.

The First 10 of the Season

2008-10-07T07:53:00.000-07:00

It seems to me like the producers of Dancing With the Stars really learned something from last season, and that is to pick contestants with a longer learning curve. We are down to 9 people in the contest now, and I can only imagine the nerves and concern and emotion going through their minds. It would seem wrong to sit and criticize from a far…but let’s do it anyway.

Susan Lucci looked pretty good last night. But 61-year-old joints can only take so much movement and jostling no matter how good they may look. But unless she falls down, takes a swing at a judge, or exposes herself on national TV, she’ll be around for another week or two.

Lance Bass gave his best performance yet in my opinion. They followed the rules and tried to cater to what the judges wanted. He still didn’t get great marks, but he’s moving in the right direction. The frustrating part is that his lack of success so far isn’t him, it’s his partner/teacher. I don’t think she’ll be back next season.

Maurice Green is doing pretty well. His partner just annoys me.

Warren Sapp looks super smooth. He is easily one of the most natural performers on the dance floor, and has learned very quickly. He also has a great personality and is very likeable. I think he’s a virtual lock for the final two or three.

Cody Linley needs a big ol’ dose of act right. He looked pretty good until he thought it was in his best interest to play his partner’s leg like a guitar. He still irritates me, but he’s got all the tools to do some real damage in this contest. To bad he, himself is a tool.

Toni Braxton should’ve done a whole lot better. Len said it best, that gimmicks and props were the last ditch efforts of desperate dancers who just aren’t that good in the first place, and those just aren’t things that she needs.

Cloris Leachman did a freaking crab walk with her partner, who incidentally said that he has to create choreography around what she is able to do…or not do. Oh yeah, she STILL can’t shut up. Time to go.

Rocco DiSpirito…well he’s trying. I truly believe that he’s doing the best he possibly can. He’s not taking himself too seriously, which is good. But I don’t think he’s going to be able to keep up the pace to stay ahead of the curve for much longer. He’s going to have to rely on people screwing up rather than him getting better. He’s still got my votes, most of them anyway. But were it not for the fact that Cloris was completely retarded this week, he’d probably be on his way out…and he still may.

Brooke Burke was just lovely. She looked great, danced well, everything. She took the highest scores of the season so far, including the fist 10 which came from Len. Although after seeing the behind the scenes stuff, I’m a little surprised that she didn’t smack Derek in his fresh little mouth. I’ve always liked him on this show, but when he used the phrase “No I’m not going to hear you right now because I’m the one who knows what he’s doing” he would’ve deserved a slap.

Misty May Treanor has taken her leave. A rupture in her Achilles tendon has forced her out of the competition and into surgery. In showing the injury taking place, you could actually hear that rupture take place over the music being played. Yeah, it was that bad. I don’t think that she had the juice to win, but she was going to go a long way, most likely the final 4 or so. But hopefully she enjoyed the time she had on the show, and her volleyball career won’t be too badly curtailed.

The First Eliminations of Season 7

2008-09-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

With two eliminations in the first week, the scoring system managed to get it half right. No one should be at all surprised to see Jeff Ross get bounced. Why is that you ask? Well, there are two reasons for his dismissal. One, he wasn’t good, and two, no one knows who he is. Actually, that’s not really a fair statement. I’m sure he has his following, but no one who follows him watches this show…apparently.

The second elimination forced us to bid farewell to Ted McGinley, and I have to say that I disagree with this one. He’s not all that well known by the people who would watch this show it would seem. But the fact of the matter is that he was pretty good. No, he was not going to catch up with Brooke Burke, who turned in the season’s highest score with a 9 on her second dance. But he was miles ahead of Cloris or Kim.

Speaking of Cloris and Kim, wow…they both sucked it up. Not only did Cloris suck it up, but she doesn’t know when or how to be quiet. Even her partner seems to be getting irritated with her yappiness. And Kim? For crying out loud she pretty much just stood there. I can’t believe wasn’t ousted.

I still support Rocco, and his second dance was much stronger than his first. But he’s going to have to come strong to ensure his survival. He’s fighting some professional obscurity from people who don’t know about or watch cooking shows. Of course, I’m hoping that the people who like reality cooking shows also enjoy this one. So do work son. By the way, when he first met his partner, he presented her with a plate of hand-made fettuccini with black truffles, which she seemed a little bit confused by and maybe a little irritated about eating. Think she knew that was probably a $60 plate of food that he started the day before?

Season Premiere

2008-09-23T07:50:00.000-07:00

The newest season of Dancing With the Stars is now upon us. Last night we welcomed the 2-hour premiere and were introduced for the first time to this season’s stars.

Here are the quick highlights and lowlights…

Lance and Lacey: They danced well, and he could be particularly dangerous in this competition. Too bad his partner is going to push the limits of the rules and they’re going to get dinged for it week in and week out until she reels it in a little.

Brooke and Derek: She looked great all the way around. Good costume, good dancing, good everything it takes to be on the show for quite a while.

Toni and Alec: She was better than I thought. She was elegant and moved very well. But I’m curious to know how that’s going to translate in the Latin rounds.

Rocco and Karina: Well, he didn’t fall down or use and ethnic slur, so true to my last installment, I gave him some votes. But I could not, in good conscience, give him all of my votes. He’ll be back in the kitchen soon, I’m sure.

Maurice and Cheryl: He was all right, but he won’t be around long. True to history, Cheryl shook her head and threw her hair a lot while her partner stood there watching. She also looked like she put on some weight.

Kim and Mark: In the training video, she was totally uncoordinated and clumsy. I figured she’d trip and fall into the crowd at some point. But she held it together, and she looked pretty good. I think her scandalous side will come out though. And Len won’t like it.

Cloris and Corky: Yes, this is the worst named team on the show, and the oldest with a combined age of 124 give or take a year…no kidding. She managed to hoist her leg on to the judge’s table. Not bad for an 82 year-old, but still not appropriate. She did some begging and pleading, then showed that she had a mouth like a sailor. Thanks for playing. Enjoy your AARP benefits and 4 pm dinners.

Cody and Julianne: He still irritates me for some reason, but he did a nice job. And all in all, she’s my favorite girl on the show. I just wish she were paired with someone else. They’ll be around a while, but not enough teenie boppers who know who he is are going to watch and vote to keep him until the end.

Susan and Tony: Poor thing needs a sandwich. As far as the judge’s scores go, I don’t think she can hang. But she’s got a fan base that is huge and I’m betting a lot of people that like their “stories” like this show.

Misty and Maks: She was good, but I still don’t know why everyone thinks she’s so hot? Hell, he’s prettier than she is. Again, she’ll be strong with the judges, but I don’t think her fan base will watch the show to vote and keep her on.

Ted and Inna: He has the potential to do very well in the ballroom rounds, but I think he’s going to struggle with the Latin dances.

Jeffrey and Edyta: Dude, stick to jokes. This is the reincarnation of Adam Carolla.

Warren and Kym: Everyone that I’ve talked to seems surprised that he was so good? Personally, I’m not surprised in the least. He could always move for a big man, and he’s going to do some real damage in this competition. Also, he has some history on his side. Historically, football players have been very strong on this show.

Second dances are tonight at 9. Tomorrow, 2 couples will be eliminated.

9/11/01

2008-09-11T08:22:00.001-07:00

Every generation has a defining moment. There is an instance, a point in history where everyone will remember for the rest of their lives where they were and what they were doing. Now, I’m not referring to living through the Vietnam War, or Operation: Iraqi Freedom. Those are more of an on-going series of events. Important none the less, but not the caliber of a single event that sets a nation on it’s ear. Most everyone born in the 20’s knows where they were when Pearl Harbor was attacked. If they were born in the 40’s, they remember where they were when Kennedy was shot.

My generation’s defining moment took place exactly 7 years ago today with the attack on the World Trade Center, 9/11/01.

Through both grade school and high school, I remember doing a number of assignments in history and social studies that required us to interview someone who was alive during a certain event and of a certain age. The goal was to see what they remembered in their view and what they thought about what happened in contrast to the global interpretation of the situation. By the time my kids get to that age, there may have been another global event, but my younger sisters and cousins will be called upon to investigate these events with people who were about my age at the time.

So here’s what I remember…

I was 21 years old. It was a Tuesday morning when I woke up because my mom was calling me. I was in college, but classes weren’t slated to start for another week or two, so to wake a sleeping student before 9 am was a grievous sin. I sleepily answered the phone, a little irritated all in all. When mom asked me if I was up, with irritation in my voice, I let her know that she had woken me. It was then that she told me to turn on the TV. I said “okay…what channel.” Her response was “It doesn’t matter.” Mom is not a TV watcher really, and not often up before 9 herself. Not to mention we had a satellite dish at my house, and got something ridiculous like 300 channels. For her to say that it didn’t matter what channel had to mean something very significant.

I turned on the TV, and sure enough, for 300 channels all I saw was a smoking city skyline from two-dozen different angles. I had to flip around a few times and wake up a little more to realize that it was, in-fact, New York, and that there had been a major accident which I would recognize as a terrorist attack 5 minutes later.

Most of the rest of the afternoon was kind of a daze. Channels broadcast video and images non-stop the rest of the day and for weeks there after. MTV actually played music videos all day long, something they haven’t done in years, and launched their “5 Things You Need To Know” campaign to help their demographic understand a little more about people, places, and events associated with the attack. People lined up for blocks making a mess out of traffic patterns to get into gas stations and fill up in fear that prices would skyrocket overnight. They didn’t. I got an email from a friend who worked at Wright Patterson Air Force Base that afternoon who said the base, in Ohio mind you, was working like nothing she’d ever seen in all her time there. Everyone had to go everywhere in teams of 2, and fighter jets were immediately scrambled, taking off 2 at a time every 3 minutes all day long. And for weeks after the initial attack, recording artists from Alan Jackson to Creed had mixes of their songs recorded and released in patriotic fashion adding sound bytes of speeches and public reaction to their music.

There it is. That is my Reader’s Digest account of the events surrounding 9/11. The more I think about it, the more I remember. The more I remember, the more I could write. But I’m prone to longwinded essays when I just mean to drop a quick line. So here’s where I stop. At least for now.

Dancing With the Stars Season 6

2008-08-27T12:13:00.000-07:00

It doesn’t seem like all that long ago that the most boring overall season of Dancing With the Stars came to a rather boring conclusion that was foregone since the very first week, yet here we are with this season’s cast being unveiled this week. And while my overall boredom with last year’s episodes compelled me to say things like “this show is loosing it’s edge” or “these contestants couldn’t touch years past” and even “I’m just about done with this show” the release of the cast for this season has rejuvenated me and I am, again, pressing the envelope on being giddy. Speaking of which, let’s have a look at the cast shall we?

Lance Bass: the former boy band-er will be following in the footsteps of fellow bandmate Joey Fatone and seeing what he can do. You would think that all the dance training and choreography from the days of NSYNC would translate into a strong showing, but it didn’t help Joey. And let’s not forget the X-Factor; his profession partner, Lacey Schwimmer, is a new addition to the DWTS ensemble.

Toni Braxton: She’s got the pipes, no doubt about that. But this isn’t Singing With the Stars. In any event, she has some elegance about her, which will probably translate well in the ballroom rounds, but may hold her up in the Latin rounds.

Brooke Burke: She’s been on a lot of shows hosting this and that. She’s a pretty woman with a nice body, which helps the cause. If you recall Marissa from last season, no matter how well she did, the fact that she was heavy really kept her from looking perfect even she might have been. She’s dancing with Derek Hough, who’s a lot of fun to watch and had a very strong showing last year, despite a neck injury, with Shannon Elizabeth.

Maurice Greene: Once dubbed “The Fastest Man on Earth”, Mo is trying on a different pair of shoes. He’s dancing with Cheryl Burke who has had great success in the past getting her partners deep into the competition, getting Christian De La Fuente to the finals last year, and winning with Emmitt Smith and Drew Lachey. But she has a tendency not to water down her own movements when her partners are at a more novice levels and makes them look bad.

Kim Kardashian: Has anyone done less to become famous at anytime? Ever? Seriously, she’s done less than Paris and Nikki and that’s saying something. She’s paired with Mark Ballas, last year’s professional winner. So he knows how to get it done with the right tools. Unfortunately, I don’t think daddy can buy her the right tools for this job.

Cloris Leachman: With more experience in front of audiences and on TV than anyone else in the ensemble, I think she’ll hang in for a while if nothing else on the sentimental vote (see also Perscilla Presley, Marie Osmond). Just try not to pass out on live TV.

Cody Linley: Dude, cut your freeking hair already. He looks so damn feminine I want him to either dance with a guy, or loose in the first 2 weeks. He’s working with Julianne Hough, who’s won this thing twice before with Heilo Castroneves and Apolo Anto Ohno. But with a record released this year, she probably has better things to do then fend off the ooglings of a teenager.

Susan Lucci: She has set the standard for staying power in the daytime acting community. She’s paired up with Tony Dovolani who has managed to make the most out of his prior seasons. Of course if Susan’s past is any indicator what-so-ever, she’ll make it to the finals and finish second.

Misty May-Treanor: If you’ve ready any of my other posts, you can surmise that I’m a volleyball enthusiast. I’ve also see Misty play live, and she has a habit of shaking her bon-bon with the rest of the younger and thinner model-esque girls at AVP events. She’s paired with Maksim Chmerkovskiy who was on hiatus last season. I think she’ll screw around too much, and he’ll get irritated with her as he’s done with past partners. Besides, female athletes don’t have a good track record in this contest (see also Monica Seles).

Ted McGinley: This guy’s been bumming around Hollywood for YEARS, and while you may not know the name, you’ll know the face. If he can keep from sexually harassing the dancers and competitors, he might do some damage.

Jeff Ross: Like female athletes, male comedians don’t tend to hang around too long. (see also Penn Jillette, Adam Carolla). He’s dancing with Edyta, who can’t seem to keep her clothes on while on stage, and who also has a short temper for people screwing around. Must be a Russian thing. He probably won’t be around too long.

Warren Sapp: Don’t think an offensive lineman can move? Then you never watched Sapp play ball. In spite of his size and appearance, the man can flow. However, he’s paired with Kym Johnson, who is roughly the size of this left leg. Penn had a rough time working with her last season just because he’s so tall and she’s so short. And the aforementioned career as an offensive lineman doesn’t often suggest that someone’s small.

Rocco DiSpirito: James Beard award winning chef, author, host, and one of my personal heroes. A bit of an exaggeration perhaps, but seeing Rocco on TV definitely compelled me to spend more time in the kitchen. He seems like he knows enough to know that he doesn’t know everything, which is a good attitude to have in this contest (see also Cameron Matheson). He’s taller and in better shape then a lot of the other men in the show, which will help his lines look better naturally. And he’s paired with Karina Smirnoff who has had strong showings in the past. Unless he falls down, literally, or uses an ethnic slur on live TV, he’s getting my votes.
The first episode airs Monday, September 22 at 8 on ABC.

US Olympic Volleyball in 2008

2008-08-22T07:49:00.001-07:00

When I was in college and at the height of my volleyball prowess, I was able to go up to Ohio State and watch their NCAA men’s team play what turned out to be a very exciting and impressive match against Lewis University. What was interesting to me was that the bulk of the Lewis roster was foreign. Most of them, at least the starters, were from either Latin America or South America. Paul, my friend, teammate, and co-fan on this particular adventure was telling me that as far as volleyball goes globally, the US as a whole is just behind. It made sense at the time. And to watch the foreign players, there was something intangible about them that made them better.

Now flash forward 5 years. Ultimately, the popularity of volleyball in the US is still not what it is in other parts of the world. How can you tell? Riddle me this; when’s the last time you saw a pro club volleyball team face off against a conference rival? In Europe and Russia in particular, volleyball has reached epic heights of popularity, such that the top players make NFL-like salaries. Lloy Ball and Clay Stanley, both Americans playing in Russia, have made comments that they top-paid player in their league makes the Russian equivalent of about $3 million a year. And with the failing dollar, inflation, a bad dow… sorry, got off track there.

Now the time has come to reclaim the overbearing, overwhelming, and over competitive nature of American gamesmanship. The last time the Americans even sniffed a medal round was in Seoul, South Korea in 1988. Granted they took the gold, but then got thumped in Sydney in 2000, and again in Athens in 2004. This year though, the US is poised to collect every single gold medal there is across 4 different volleyball venues.

This week, Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh ousted the top seeded Chinese team to win their second consecutive gold medals in beach volleyball. Last night, or maybe this morning depending on what side of the world you live on, Phil Dalhausser and Todd Rodgers beat Brazil in 3 exciting sets to capture their first gold medals, also in beach volleyball. And this weekend, both the men’s and women’s indoor teams will play in gold medal matches, guaranteeing at least a silver.

Congratulations to all of them. And let any skeptics take notice that the US is not a second-tier talent on the courts any longer.

What's French for Booty-Whoopin'?

2008-08-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

Comment dit on “booty whoopin’” en francias?

Again the Games of the Olympiad are upon us. I have a many blog entries about sports, and at least one other one about the Olympics, though it was about the winter games. But as I have said before, I love the Olympics. We turn it on in our house when we get home from work, and just leave it on all day long.

Last night was the finals of the men’s 400-meter freestyle swimming relay. If you didn’t see it, go to youtube.com and I am certain you will find it there. To sum it up, the US was not favored to win, as teams from France and Australia each had teams that were considered to be superior. However, in order to keep Michael Phelps hopes of winning 8 gold medals in a single Olympiad, the US had to overcome all odds.

Going into the final 100 meters, they were lagging behind powerhouse, France. At the turn with 50 meters left in the race, team captain and anchor Jason Lezak decided not only to overcome the lead built up by the French, but to also swim the fastest split in the history of the planet to do so. Oh yeah, and while he was at it, he helped the US not break, but absolutely shatter the world record for this even by 4 seconds. Considering the gold and silver medals were determined by a difference of .08 seconds, 4 full seconds faster than they world record is roughly an hour.

What was just as impressive though, was that the US was not the only team to break the world record. Point of fact, even the bronze medal team from Australia was ahead of the pace when the race ended. As if one team breaking a world record isn’t impressive enough, 3 did it…though none faster than the US.

So now, with his two trickiest events safely stowed with gold medals, Phelps’ aspirations of 8 golds is very much alive. But that’s not all…

Alain Bernard, the wanna-be punk-ass anchorman for the French team said when asked about the American team “The Americans? We’re going to smash them. That’s what we came here for.” So a day after, let me pose this question; How does it feel to break a world record by just a shade under 4 seconds and still take second?

USA! USA! USA!

Financing Generation Y

2008-08-05T07:23:00.000-07:00

I read MSN.com a lot. It’s like my newspaper in the morning only it doesn’t leave my fingers black with newsprint. I like glancing over the articles when I have a little free time in the morning at work, and I think that’s because I don’t feel like anything is written over my head. The newspaper tends to have stuff in there that I just don’t care about.

I find myself reading the money articles on MSN most frequently. They appeal to me because they seem to be focused largely on my generation, and our general lack of financial knowledge and responsibility. The fact of the matter is they are right. I’ve done some stupid stuff with money I don’t yet have…thank you very much Mr. Visa and car loan. But I feel like my wife and I have taken very serious steps towards shedding the want it now, buy it on credit mentality. Actually, to be fair, she’s never been that way the whole time I’ve known her. So it’s more accurate to say that she has helped me to shed that mindset. The rest of our generation thinks differently however, and MSN thinks that enough people think differently that it deserves and article. (http://articles.moneycentral.msn.com/Investing/HomeMortgageSavings
/WhyGenerationYIsBroke.aspx?GT1=33011)

Some of it is a sob story. Some of it has legitimate points and concerns. But there was one point in summary of the whole thing that got me thinking enough to put together a blog entry. It poses the question “Is generation Y dumb? Or just lazy?” If you read the article, there is a threaded forum discussing the ins and outs of this very question. Everyone has something to say from “my son is in this age range and he’d rather play then work on a nice day… blah blah blah.” Yeah, wouldn’t we all? That’s got nothing to do with the generation. To “I’m not sure the author got the dates of what defines Generation Y right?” Apparently they all missed the point.

When it comes to the protection of our finances, social security number, annuities, the very foundation of our monetary future, no one can afford to be dumb or lazy, regardless of generation. So when the question is posed “are they stupid, or are they just lazy?” I have to respond, “It doesn’t matter. Either attitude will lead to you being broke.”

World Most Expensive...

2008-07-30T06:35:00.000-07:00

I don’t tend to get political. It’s not necessarily because I don’t want to. I’m just not very good at it all in all. I can remember stupid things like Roger Federer’s ace/double fault ratio through out the last Wimbledon; it was 108 aces compared to only 6 double faults by the way. But the American role in a matter of International opinion, or the intricacies of the declining value of the dollar tends to make my eyes cross.

However, I read something today that bothered me and probably for all the wrong reasons. I have some free time to kill at work, so I’m gonna talk about it.

MSN.com has an article posted today about the most expensive places in the world to live. (http://realestate.msn.com/buying/Article_forbes.aspx?cp-documentid=8839818&GT1=35000) What they did to gauge this expense was take the average cost of a little more than 200 items that everyone needs regardless of where you live. The survey covered 253 cities over the course of 6 continents, so sorry about your luck Antarctica. The top 5 most expensive cities in the world are:

5. Seoul, South Korea
4. Olso, Norway
3. London, England
2. Tokyo, Japan
1.Moscow, Russia

Not one American city of there. New York was the most expensive place in the US to live, and you have to get all the way down to 22 before you hit that. And who would have thought that LA is cheaper to live in (ranked 55) than Lagos, Nigeria (30), Almaty, Kazakhstan (44), or Zagreb, Croatia (49)? These are parts of the world that have historically been referred to as third world countries.

It sounds like I am complaining because it’s cheaper to live in the US than in other parts of the world. And I guess I am. People come to the US for the appeal of it’s moniker of being the land of opportunity. If you’ve ever watched a show about millionaires, you know there are plenty of stories about people who came from nothing to earn, and I do mean earn, everything. Good for them. But expense and cost of living is a function of supply and demand. People are demanding to live in Seoul, Oslo, London, Tokyo, Moscow, and 16 other cities around the world before they are demanding to live anywhere in the US. Interestingly enough, according to Forbes list of the world’s most economically powerful cities, the US has 3 of the top ten in New York, Chicago, and LA.

Does the disparity of the most expensive places to live compared to the economic control of US cities suggest that the US is becoming a second-rate power?

10 Bad Songs

2008-07-22T09:59:00.001-07:00

The CD player in my car is broken. This is the second time it’s gone down on me since I’ve owned the car with the same problem each time. But this is not a scathing testimony to the inflated and overrated price of Lexus as a company…although I could probably figure something out to jot down about that. I have been forced to listen to the radio, or nothing at all. The problem with listening to the radio is that I am no subject to whatever they play, with few options available to me except to change the channel. Of course, then I am subject to what that channel plays, and so on this is perpetuated in vicious circle.

That said, this is my list of the songs that if I never hear again it will be too soon.

10. Love Shack by the B-52’s; I thought this song could’ve been cool, but when I realized they weren’t necessarily talking about a brothel I lost interest. I don’t want to hop in your Chrysler, and I don’t care how big it is.

9. I’ll Be There for You by The Rembrandts; Friends made your one and only song a piece of pop culture. Unfortunately, we had to hear that song during the opening credits of on of the most popular shows in history for 10 years! Well, Friends is off the air, so what have you done for me lately?

8. Most Madonna songs from about 2000 to present; You’ve been a global phenomenon. Too bad you stayed a little too long at the party.

7. Have a Nice Day by Bon Jovi; Slippery When Wet and New Jersey were a long time ago, but still rock. And a fair amount of their newer stuff rocks too. But this song just doesn’t make any sense, and the infusion of staccato rhythm gets really annoying.

6. The Way I Are by Timberland; He’s done some really impressive mixing on many songs. And the beat for this one is fantastic. But I just can’t get on board with a song that so brazenly goes to an unnecessary degree to utilize horrible and ignorant grammar.

T. 5. Viva la Vida, Clocks, Speed of Sound all by Coldplay; THEY’RE THE SAME SONG 3 TIMES OVER!

2. Dancing Queen by Abba; I got nothing. This song just sucks.

1. I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor; Yeah, yeah, yeah. The ultimate women’s empowerment song for any woman that has been dumped, mistreated, misrepresented, upset, had her feelings hurt, had someone look at her the wrong way, had someone say something about her that was true or not. Yeah we get it.

Greedy People

2008-07-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

Last night I was watching a show on HGTV. Yes I know, let the mocking begin. It was one of those shows that I love to hate. It was one of those shows that, though not intended to do so, shows the worst in people. It was a show that illustrated the proud, selfish, and greedy nature of people that might otherwise be described as compassionate, friendly, or even generous. Was this an “E! True Hollywood Story”? How about a “Fabulous Life” of someone who makes more money than most of us will ever count show on VH1? Well, it’s clearly none of those, and if you recall the first sentence, you know that already. This was “My House Is Worth What?” on HGTV.

Real estate shows are all the rage these days. There are at least a dozen on different channels right now, and they’re all about the same. Someone bought a house, fixed it up, wants to sell, and ultimately wants to much money for it. Maybe I am a little bit partial because I’ve worked in the field for so long. But I’ll present the facts as honestly as I can.

The facts of the matter: A couple purchased a house on Tybee Island in Georgia. They picked it up dirt-cheap for $150k. They have been in it now for a number of years, but not quite 10. They put $125k into making the house what they wanted it to be. Now they want to sell it and buy something bigger. They think their house is worth every single penny of $850k.

The facts as seen by a realtor in the area: The couple made many impressive upgrades to a home that is now in great condition and has a location that can’t be beaten. However, there are a few things that they overlooked in their rehab process in the forms of two of the most cost recovered investments in the forms of the kitchen and the bathrooms. For the record, the best investment to make in terms of cost recovery is anything that adds useable living space. But they didn’t add space, and they kitchen and bathrooms, while nice, were not consistent with an $800k plus home.

The result: The agent looked over their home, did an analysis of the surrounding community, and gave a professional opinion of price. He said that he would have listed their home then and there for $775k. They were immediately insulted. With no experience as real estate professionals they just knew their house was worth more and this guy had to be off his rocker. They were talking about a return of around $500k. Yeah, that’s half a mil for those playing along at home. And it just wasn’t enough for them.

All these shows have people who want too much for too little and refuse to budge an inch. You want to see the absoulte worst in a person? Skip the shows about the drunk celebutants throwing money everywhere and having public temper tantrums. Just watch a show about people selling a house!

The “professional house flipper” shows are the worst. No one knows how much a house should sell for compared to how much they bought it for. No one knows how to make a schedule. And no one can keep a budget worth a damn. What happens to the homes and the people that sank their heart, soul, and savings into them? They all end the same way; with an exit interview where a pissed off, greedy, wannabe “investor” ends up living full time in a house they meant to flip.

Strong work.

Most Stolen Cars

2008-07-16T11:18:00.001-07:00

The National Insurance Crime Bureau has released, yet again, the most commonly stolen cars in the US. I always thought that this was an interesting report to take time, money, and effort to produce year after year, and interesting in this sense meaning something that really bored people put together. What’s interesting though, is the age and class of cars.

Most of us have seen Gone in 60 Seconds. If you haven’t, you can probably catch it at least once a month on either TNT or TBS. And if you come across it, it’s worth watching. To sum up, a team of thieves has to steal 50 cars in one night. These cars are 6-figure exotics and collectibles. They are not stuff you run across on your daily commute…nor are ANY of them, or anything even close to them on the list of the most stolen cars in the US.

10. ’07 Carolla
9. ’88 Toyota Pick-up
8. ’94 Sentra
7. ’04 Dodge Ram Pick-up
6. ’94 Integra
5. ’94 Chevy C/K 1500
4. ’97 F-150
3. ’89 Camry
2. ’91 Accord
1.’95 Civic

NICB states that the reason these cars are most commonly stolen is because they tend to provide the best market for stolen vehicle parts. That makes sense I suppose. But doesn’t probability play a factor? After all, most of these are fairly common consumer vehicles. And it makes sense that the most common vehicles stolen in the US are those that are in the greatest circulation. Why aren’t Lamborghinis and Ferraris and Lotuses being swiped all over the place? Because there aren’t any. Okay, not exactly true, but I guarantee you’ll see 100 Civics for every Lamborghini.

The NICB suggests a multi-functional approach towards the prevention of auto theft. The first step is to take “standard anti-theft measures” such as locking the car and taking the keys. Yeah no shit. As opposed to locking it and leaving the keys on the hood? Next they say to get a warning or alarm on the car. So my little sticker that says “Protected by Viper” by itself doesn’t get it done? From there, use an “immobilizing device” such as a SmartKey or fuel cut off that prohibits the car from being driven. The Kelly Blue Book on a ’95 Civic is $3,800-5,500. How much does a SmartKey cost? How about go old school and buy a Club? And finally, they suggest a tracking system like Low-Jack to find your car if it is stolen. And how much is that?
An alarm, SmartKey, and Low-Jack all for a car who’s payoff will be as low as 3 grand? Shit, just take the car.

Rodgers' Role in Green Bay

2008-07-14T07:43:00.001-07:00

Again, I’ve been a bad blogger. I haven’t posted anything on this site in some time now…shame on me. I’ve been paying more attention to the other site that I put stuff on about cooking and such, and quite honestly, I have had some writer’s block on that one too. But in watching ESPN this morning while getting ready for work, and then reading ESPN.com while at work, my writer’s block was suddenly alleviated…at least for today.

Unless you’ve been totally blind to the wide world or sports, you’ve probably heard about the Brett Favre debacle in Green Bay. If not, here’s the recap; I want to officially and permanently retire… I’ve got an itch to play again… I want to come back. This is not the first time that Brett has run the okey-doke end-around on the Packers as an organization.

Highlights; 3 MVP awards, 2 rings, 422 TD passes (most all-time), 61,655 passing yards (most all-time), 5,377 completions (most all-time), 8,758 passing attempts (most all-time), 253 consecutive regular season starts with 275 in a row if you count the post-season (do I even have to say it at this point?). Just to round it all out, he also has more career wins than any QB ever with 160.

Is Brett Favre the greatest ever to play the position? History probably won’t remember him as the greatest. But there is no doubt that he will go down as one of the most exalted, hardest working, and certainly the most durable ever. Maybe it really is time to let it all be done? Maybe Brett really feels like he's got one more comeback in him? Maybe he should ask Michael Jordan about one too many comebacks.

Brett Favre’s transcendence into immortality isn’t really what I sat down to write about this morning. What gets my attention is what has to be the looming frustration of one Aaron Rodgers, Favre’s heir-apparent. This guy was drafted in the first round of the ’05 draft. Right now, he has exactly one more professional touchdown pass than I do. But this kid has been jerked every which way but loose for several seasons now while waiting for his time to shine… or at the very least, play. So far, he’s been classy in his public image as it pertains to the Favre controversy while he has to be frustrated and who could blame him.

Rodgers has been a virtual unknown. Who would want to turn a franchise over to an unknown and unproven 24 year-old? Worked out pretty well for Dallas when they handed off the controls to an undrafted free agent who no one ever heard of before names Tony Romo. Or maybe we should ask the city of Pittsburgh about how Ben Roethlisberger was actually going to be third string behind Charlie Batch and Tommy Maddox? I think that turned into a 13-0 starting record as a ROOKIE. And who’s that guy that now runs the show in New England? The Tom guy? Picked 199 in the NFL compensatory draft, now a first-ballot HOF quarterback.
I’m not saying that Rodgers is the next any of these guys. I’m not saying he’s going to step right in and fill the role of field general like Favre. What I am saying is that he’s waited. He’s paid his dues. He’s going to get smacked in the mouth and driven to the ground. He’s going to make mistakes. He’s going to throw interceptions. By the way, Mr. Invincible Favre himself also holds the record for most interceptions thrown 288. What I am saying is that after 4 seasons a waiting, he’s earned his chance to stand on his own and lead a team.

An Observation of Customer Service

2008-06-11T12:10:00.001-07:00

I work in a position that requires me to deal with the public in various capacities. When you get right down to it, I am willing to bet the majority of jobs on the planet deal with customer service. To be clear, I mean customer service beyond one’s own company. I don’t consider the IT guy fixing my computer in my office customer service. I’m talking about service from a company to the public.

My question is, what has happened to customer service? Where has it gone? Where is it now?

It seems that everywhere I go I have been subjected to a rapidly declining level of customer service. Just this week my wife got lousy service at a Taco Bell. Yes, I know we’re talking about Taco Bell and not Carabba’s. But waiting in a drive thru line as the only car for 20 minutes is a bit excessive, particularly when the average item on the menu takes about 25 seconds to make.

Like a lot of people, I have a 30-minute lunch break. Not a big deal, but if I’m going off site for lunch, I need to hustle in and hustle out. I pull into Wendy’s and through a crackling speaker order 2 5-piece nuggets, a large fry, and a Coke. Nothing hard about that. I pull around, pay the man, take my bag and leave. Like most folks, I venture into the bag and grab a few fries while driving. It’s at this time that I find I have someone else’s order. Damnit. It wasn’t even close. A side salad and a drink was all I got. At least they got the Coke right. So I turn around and go back to remedy the situation.

By this time, the drive thru line has exploded. So I run inside, and still end up stuck in a line. At this point, allow me to clarify something; making a mistake in an order in the middle of lunch madness happens. And it’s not the end of the world. But after taking the time to turn around to fix the problem this doesn’t play well with me…

I very honestly and politely point out that they just gave me the wrong order, and the manager looks at me as though I just insulted his mother. I tell him again that I got the wrong order, and still nothing. He says “well do you have a receipt?” I say “Sure. It’s the receipt for the wrong food in the bag, but yeah… I’ve got one.” The more this exchange continues, the more irritated I am getting, not to mention the closer I am cutting it getting back to work. Finally I say “do I look like someone who would be satisfied with a tiny salad for lunch?” (for those who don’t know me personally, I’m about 6’2” and 225)

I finally get my food, the correct food that is, and I leave. Each bite smacked of content and frustration. I don’t fault the mistake, I really don’t. I’d preferred it wasn’t made, but people make them. But what’s the point of making an issue with a guest when they return the food that was mistakenly given and politely ask for the right order? Has decent customer service gone the way of decent gas prices?

Creative Marketing

2008-06-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

I’ve worked in sales almost exclusively since I graduated from college. The more time I spend in a sales-related field, the more I start to notice marketing catch phrases, trends, and speech. These terms are probably the most prevalent when dealing with used cars. A ’94 Civic is a “used car” while a ’98 Infinity is probably a “previously owned vehicle”.

Stuff like that cracks me up. But what really caught my attention was when I was online this afternoon looking up wedding registries. We have a few friends getting married this summer, and I was looking up their registries online. On Macy’s home page, they have all this Father’s Day stuff and watches were one of the featured items. So my eyes wandered and I had a look at what they were offering, and thus was the Everest of marketing catch phrases.

Anything under roughly $250-300 was a “watch”. The mid-upper $300 range were “chronographs”, and that will run you in some cases up to $1,000. But no one would ever condescend to call a Rolex , Omega , Bulgari, or Piaget a watch or a chronograph. Oh no. These are “timepieces”.

Creative marketing at it’s finest.

Here's My Sign

2008-05-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

On my head, there is a sign. In all fairness, it might be hovering just over my head, but there is, in fact a sign. The sign cannot be seen be the standard eye of man. But I can assure you it is there. I’m not exactly sure what this sign says? I’m not exactly sure what it looks like? As I said, it cannot be seen by your average person. If asked to speculate, I would think that it is large neon colors, either green or yellow, and it is all on one line. I’m thinking it probably says something like “Please come talk to me about the worst problem facing in you in your life or if you don’t have one of those please tell me all about the pyramid you are involved in and think would be a great money-making opportunity for me.” Yeah, it says all that.

It doesn’t matter where I am in the world. I could be sitting down for dinner with my wife in a restaurant, I could be in line buying groceries, I could be walking into a softball game dressed to play with a bag in my hand and clearly listening to an Ipod, and someone is going to tell me about their day or try to get me involved in their pyramid.

A usual conversation will often go this way:
“Hi, welcome to Friday’s. I’m whoever, how are you doing today.”
“Doing well, thanks. And you?”
“Well, I’m having a rough afternoon. I was in a fender bender this morning. I didn’t do well on a calculus final in this, the last quarter of my senior year in college. And I broke a shoelace getting dressed this morning.”
…Silence…
“Umm…wow…so can I have a Coke?”

Or maybe…

“Hi how are you? Did you find everything you were looking for?
“Good, thanks. Yes I did.”
“That’s good. You must be the only one. Everyone else who’s come through tonight was complaining about something and yelling that we were out of stuff. Someone even called my manager up here for no good reason, just to make trouble.”
“Wow…uh…sounds like a rough day?”
“Yeah. I almost didn’t come in today. I had a friend try to commit suicide last night. She’s been having a really rough time with….so on and so forth….”

Great. So now not only to I have to listen to your crap, but I have to hear about you’re friend’s bag o'crazy? Can I just have my DVD and Sour Patch Kids?

But let’s not forget the pyramid people. I love these people in a can’t stand them sort of way. And I don’t know what it is about my outward appearance, but they track me down like sharks smelling blood in the water. Some wannabe entrepreneur can weave his way through a crowded Target just to find me because I look like “a very sharp individual”. Or they’ll break me off with a “Man you look familiar. Where do I know you from?” kind of thing.

I’m just going to start responding with “Well thanks. But a really sharp individual wouldn’t have had to file bankruptcy twice before he’s 30, let me tell ya.”

My Draft Amendment

2008-05-23T06:13:00.000-07:00

I think I need to make an amendment to my prior statement about this year’s draft being boring. Well, no I mean it was still dull, so maybe this is more of a rider to my draft blog. Whatever you want to call it, the contract situation with the incoming class of NFL talent and the money it takes to acquire them to such a degree that the there are rumblings on ESPN about the institution of a rookie salary cap. Why ever would you need something like that? Here’s why…

Marquee players hold out all the time. In fact, I can’t remember a season in the past 10 years when someone wasn’t holding out for something they wanted to have or see changed. Generally speaking, they either want to be traded, or want more money. Are some of these people spoiled primadonnas? Sure. Do some of them have a point about whatever their scenario happens to be? Yeah, some probably do. Now hold that thought a minute.

This year the salaries went up to astonishing new heights, which is actually nothing new considering this happens just about every year. But what’s interesting about this year’s draft is not only the money, but the timing. Top pick, Jake Long from Michigan signed with the Dolphins a week before the draft, cementing his place as the No. 1 pick. They gave him 5 years for $57.75 (yeah that’s million) with $30 guaranteed. Not bad for someone who isn’t yet old enough to rent a car. No. 2 pick Chris Long was picked up by the Rams, but has not yet reached an agreement on a contract. But the Falcons picked Matt Ryan, quarterback from Boston College 3rd, and cracked open the piggy bank. They gave him 6 years for $72 and $34.75 guaranteed. That’s $14.25 more, one more year, and $4.75 more guaranteed than the number one draft pick. Considering St. Louis still doesn’t have Chris Long locked down, the organization has to be pissed, and Long has to be seeing dollar signs.

The NFL is a cultural icon. Yes, so is MLB and the NBA. But right now we’re talking football. Aside from that, it’s an economic pillar in this country. The last thing we want as consumers is for an economic pillar to crumble. So how angry would you be if you were Peyton Manning ($11 mil/year), Tom Brady ($6 mil/year), Carson Palmer ($7.25 mil/year), or Eli Manning ($6.45 mil/year) and lest we forget he’s the Super Bowl winning quarterback this past season, and some kid comes out of college making $12 mil/year never having taken a professional snap? I doubt even the nicest of these guys is going to say “well good for him.” It just seems that with all the additional drama that these guys create for whatever reasons, generally surrounding money, that for a rookie who didn’t even win the BCS Bowl game to come into the league and out earn all of them just doesn’t seem right.

(all salary information came from USATODAY.com http://content.usatoday.com/sports/football/nfl/salaries/playersbyposition.aspx?pos=119 )

Things a Man Should Never Have

2008-05-20T06:26:00.001-07:00

My wife sent me this email the other day. I'm not sure if she's trying to tell me something or not? But it was interesting none the less...

18 Things A Grown Man Should Never Have

1. A black eye. Unless the rim hits your face mid-dunk, your peepers should remain unblemished. You're smart enough to talk your way out of any fight you're going to lose.

2. A witty e-mail signature. Quotes and song lyrics should be heard during toasts and karaoke performances, respectively. Don't let your electronic correspondence become the digital version of a motivational poster.

3. An empty refrigerator. Your larder should be amply stocked, your pantry provisioned. Always aim to be ready to create an on-the-fly, three-course dinner for her...along with breakfast in bed.

4. PlayStation thumb. When they're relaxing, grown men can behave like children. But if you devolve long enough to cause calluses or button-shaped bruises, you're assuredly missing out on life.

5. A key chain with a bottle opener. This bauble is both a gauche reminder of your college days and proof that you don't know how to apply leverage using available, impromptu bottle openers: a lighter, the back end of a fork.

6. A lucky shirt. Every shirt is lucky when worn by a man who knows that the harder he works the luckier he'll be.

7. An unstamped passport.

8. Olympic dreams. Exceptions: curling and archery.

9. Less than $20 in his wallet. Fiduciary nudity is negligence. A real man should always carry a business card and enough dough to pick up coffee, bagels, and the Sunday paper without whipping out the plastic.

10. A name for his penis. Even if it's a really clever name.

11. Any beer that costs less than $20 a case. And no exception for the grand-slam 30-pack that crosses that price threshold.

12. The need to quote The Big Lebowski/ Caddyshack/Superbad. Reciting someone else's lines reminds people that you haven't the wit to write your own.

13. A futon. Sure, beds are for sleeping. But such a meager, slouchy spread has never, in the history of sex, inspired a woman to say, "Take me on your futon."

14. Code words for ugly women. Actually, code words for anything.

15. A Nerf hoop in his living room. Keep the adolescent accoutrements where they belong: in the rec room or above the wastebasket in someone else's office.

16. A secret handshake.

17. Drinking glasses with logos. Especially those kitschy McDonald's Hamburglar ones.

18. A recent story with the phrase "So I said to the cop..."

A Weekend in Southeast Florida

2008-05-19T08:33:00.000-07:00

Trina and I just spent this weekend in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. It’s not like we were just able to shoot down there and spend a few relaxing days on a nice beach. We went down for a friend’s destination wedding.

Lauderdale wasn’t a bad place, all in all. The airport is convenient to most of the hotels. The area is pretty easy to navigate since almost everything runs in a grid. The beaches were pretty clean, and I didn’t feel like I needed a shower after being on the sand. But the whole city was older. It’s clearly been there for quite some time, and it’s clear that maintenance is not the first order of business for the hotels and bars. That makes sense, though, considering it’s a spring break hot spot and who would want to sink money into something that will get beaten down inside of a year? Besides, going there is all about the nightlife. There are lots of bars and restaurants that look at the water, though you’re looking across A1A (Beachfront Avenue!). The point is, you’re probably not taking a family vacation there.

Anyway, I had to take the time to write something about our experiences there. So in typical blog format, here’s my list of the things that I found to be most interesting (interesting not being good or bad, just different from Cincinnati) about the Ft. Lauderdale area.

1. Men have no modesty what so ever. Guys walk around with their shirts off constantly, and it doesn’t matter a lick what they look like or what else they’re wearing. Ripped? Fat? Board shorts? Dress slacks? Going to the beach? Going to the office? Doesn’t matter…guys are walking around with no shirts.

2. Women were very modest. All the ladies down there were generally covered up. If they were not laying on the beach or a pool, the ladies of Ft. Lauderdale were pretty well covered up.

3. If you have a dog over 15 pounds, you are in the extreme minority. Lots of people were out walking with dogs. But all the dogs we saw were tiny breeds. There were lots of Terriers, Pugs, Poodles, and Chihuahuas.

4. More hotels were pet-friendly than were not. This might speak to the whole small dog thing, since they are easier to travel with.

5. The lots on which houses sit are the size of the house’s footprint, plus 2 feet all the way around. No one has a yard. Instead, they have a pool, a boat dock, and just barely enough grass for the little dogs to pee and poop.

6. Everyone has a shiny, absolutely immaculate BMW. Apparently, that’s the vehicle to own down there.

7. If you don’t have a BMW, you probably have either a Ferrari or a Bently… no kidding and barely exaggerating.

8. You can be to the Bimini, one of the western-most islands of the Bahamas, by boat in less than 2 hours.

9. You can be at just about any of the islands in the Bahamas by boat inside of a day.

10. You cannot park your own car anywhere. If you stop at 10 places in the course of a day, I’m willing to bet at least 7 of them valet park your car. Do you really need a valet for McDonald’s? Come on now.

Softball Bats

2008-05-14T07:04:00.000-07:00

Softball in Cincinnati is a pretty big deal in terms of a summer pastime. Lots of people from all over the city play ball from mid-April through mid-October. Guys compete to relive the glory days, people get dirty sliding into bases, tempers flare and people argue. By and large, it’s a lot of fun. I’ve been a part of this scene for a few years now, and there are a lot of things that I’ve learned in all terms of the game. But the one aspect that I just can’t get my mind around and that always brings up controversy is the use of various bats.

If you have ever played, seen, or heard of baseball or softball, you know that bats are a critical part of the game. They are less of an issue in pro baseball because short of corking one. Other than that, it’s an issue of length vs. weight.

Softball is an entirely different animal. For those who don’t know, there are a number of different leagues and corresponding rules for those leagues. The most commonly played in Cincinnati are ASA and USSSA. The 2 major differences are the pitching and the bats. The pitching is another posting in and of itself. So putting that asides, I want to touch on the bats.

Under the rules governing ASA softball bats, the bat may not be powerful enough to send the ball off the barrel at anymore than 98-mph. This is not the case in USSSA. There are still bats that are illegal, but the list is far, far shorter. If you go to softballjunk.com and look at the bats they have for sale, they will say clearly with each bat “not approved for ASA play” which means exactly what it says. I’m not sure what the stipulations are to make a bat illegal for USSSA play, but bats used in those leagues are significantly hotter.

Last night, one of my teammates got up to hit, and ripped a ball foul down the third base line. The pitcher on the opposing team threw a temper tantrum right there on the spot raising three kinds of hell that the bat had to be illegal. He told the umpire to inspect the bat…no issues. He went and got the manager of the ballpark for another inspection…again, no issues. The bat was totally legal. This guy was just pissed that his team got hammered by 16 runs inside of 4 innings.

As usual, I digress…

The fact of the matter is that guys spend tons of money to take an illegal bat and have it painted, branded, and stamped as legal. On the average, this will probably cost you about $400. To put a slightly finer point on it, you’re paying $400 to cheat. Finer point still? How about $400 to cheat at a game where people have to throw a big ball underhand, that won’t pay the bills, that won’t bring you years and years of glory… and a level of cheating that can literally kill someone. Sound a little mellow dramatic? Maybe. But even a legal bat that can compel a ball to move 98-mph could deliver a fatal blow it someone was hit in the head, throat, or chest. So what would a ball going 110+ do? I might be a little more sensitive to the situation than most considering I play third base a lot, and as such stand closer to the plate than anyone but the pitcher. For the record if you get caught using an illegal bat say, in a tournament, you’re probably going to be handed a 3-5 year ban from participating in that tournament again, and you WILL be catching an ass-whoopin’ in the parking lot from the opposing team lead by the pitcher and third baseman.

Sammy Sosa is the slugger than most recently comes to mind when talking about using a corked bat in MLB. There is regular debate about the advantages of a corked bat. Yes, you can swing fast, but the quality of the power distribution from a weaker instrument almost makes it a wash. An illegal softball bat, however, will add bat speed and not sacrifice the power transfer. In either case, the question remains; Why do it at all? Sosa could hit homers with a shovel. The guys I know who will spend $400 on a bogus bat could send a ball over a 300’ fence with a limb they just pulled off a tree. Why risk the repercussions? Why risk the injury? Why do it at all?

Smoking Gas

2008-05-07T07:46:00.000-07:00

Gas prices are at an all time high! Yeah, we still know. And I don’t want to harp on it over and over again because as far as I’m concerned, it’s making the worst of a bad situation. But I noticed something interesting yesterday while driving out, or rather pulling into the parking lot of a softball park. Here’s what it was…

There were a lot of diesel trucks in the lot. Actually, diesel-powered vehicles were probably in the majority. And a good number of these vehicles were outfitted with construction company or landscape logos. That makes sense right? People in these fields need the power that is offered in a diesel engine. Now, please excuse the generality, but there is another common trait shared by the people in these fields is that they tend to smoke. I’m not here to make social or medical commentary about the health risks associated with tobacco. But what I noticed was this; the average cost nationwide for a gallon of diesel is $4.24. The average cost for a pack of cigarettes in the state of Ohio is $4.21.

My question is this; when confronted with the necessity of fuel in comparison to the addiction and dependence upon cigarettes, what wins?

On the Radio

2008-04-29T06:51:00.000-07:00

I’m not a political person. I don’t comment on the political climate. I don’t watch C-Span or CNN to see what the Presidential candidates are doing and saying. It’s not my thing. I don’t like watching it, hearing it, learning about it, and therefore I don’t often talk about it. When people ask me whom I am going to vote for, I avoid the topic. When they press me about it, clearly wanting to talk about various candidate’s attributes, I generally respond by saying that I am exercising my right not to vote. Invariably, they are appalled, which is the general idea. And ultimately, I’m joking but don’t ever give them the satisfaction of knowing that. But behind every joke is some truth, and here are my real arguments for my made-up stance.

I don’t think anyone who says they are anti-war is really going to be able to put in place a plan that brings our troops home in a year, and there are policies in place that will prohibit my being drafted. So the war debate, as either pulling out or pressing on is kind of a wash for how it would most directly affect me. I’m not a millionaire, as much I would like to dream that I am. I don’t have money in the stock market right now, as much as I would like to wish that I did. So violent economic changes don’t have the affect on me that they would have on say, someone who owns a bank. And, knock on wood, I am generally healthy, so a radical overhaul of the healthcare system won’t rock me to my very core either. I know that I will one day be more concerned about these things, but for now, it serves my purposes to make my argument the way I am, so I do. And besides those 3 things, what else is anyone campaigning on?

Here’s who wins my vote: I am voting for the candidate who makes the best platform on the practical application of alternative fuels in the immediate future. We all know that gas prices are at record highs. As a matter of fact, if one more person declares this in public forum like it’s a secret, I’m gonna scream. Diesel is already over $4/gallon, and regular is on it’s way. On the radio this morning, someone speculated that it is realistic that gas prices will hit as much at $10/gallon in the next 3 years. Personally, I don’t see how that’s possible? It seems to me that the economy will grind to a halt. Actually, it won’t even take that long. In the very near future, people are going to start to realize that it’s no longer going to be cost effective to drive to work. So either people are going to start walking, riding bike, taking mass transit, or work from home, there will be a breakdown in socio-economic stability, or we, as a population, are going to have to reevaluate the importance and dependence of oil in our economy.

People will tie this in with the war, and it will come from both sides: we need to withdraw our troops from the middle east to prohibit further damage to oil fields and to reduce the oil needed for waging the war! No we need to press on to win the war so we can have a great say and amount of control over these fields then prices will drop! You’re both wrong. Standard inflation will continue to increase the cost of going to work everyday. Assuming we pull out of the war tomorrow, or fight another 10 years, it’s not a solution. There’s no salvation, just a slower death.

So there you have it. That’s my political rant, and the only one I will have for another 4 years. Whoever has a plan to compel the country to apply alternative fuels, you get my one, small, individual vote.

This Year's Draft...

2008-04-28T06:42:00.000-07:00

I have to say; this year’s NFL draft was a little bit boring. I know there are a lot of people out there that would have you believe that watching any draft is boring, but I’m compelled to disagree.

I know that a draft consists of hours of premeditation, and is on, non-stop for about 8 hours a day for 3 days in a row. There isn’t a lot of “sport” to watch per se either. There aren’t a great deal of highlights, and there isn’t anything to really root for. But for some reason, I really like watching at least some of the draft over the course of its 3-day presentation. And apparently, since there has been talk of moving the draft off of ESPN and on to a major network channel and shown on Prime Time, I’m not the only one.

But this year was dull. For the first time that I can think of, the top 5 prospects were taken with the first 5 picks. Yes, it sounds like that’s the way it should be. But usually there are trades, bartering, negotiations lasting well into the night with both players and teams. 1st round draftees and particularly the top prospect fighting for more money with a team that wants to make sure they are under contract before dawn; a multi-million dollar chess game so to speak…

2 years ago the Texans shocked everyone by negotiating with Mario Williams until dawn to sign them as the top pick and letting Reggie Bush fall to the Saints. How’s that working out for ya? Last year L.A. took JaMarcus Russell first only see him hold out for more money and better terms. And let’s not forget about Brady Quinn getting blown off until about a dozen picks later. Love that drama…

Not this year.

This year, the top 5 picks went to first 5 teams. No one seemed unhappy about their lot in life. No one was upset about going to a team that would be rebuilding. Jake Long, the top pick in the draft, was so thrilled about going to the 1 and 14 Dolphins that he signed his contract 4 days before the draft was held.

Where’s excitement in that?!?

On the bright side, the Bengals seemed to do okay for themselves. Keith Rivers from USC will hopefully shore up a struggling linebacking corps, and taking 3 wide receivers should help to fill the void that will allegedly be left by the frustrated Chad Johnson. Too bad about him too, he could really teach these kids something. A few big tackles and a safety will hopefully help plug the run defense and aid the secondary. We’ll see in a few months I suppose.

DWTS Update

2008-04-15T07:35:00.001-07:00

Last night was the night that was supposed to start to separate the good from the less good, with the highly anticipated Latin round. Sambas and Rumbas abounded as the contestants were put to a test marked by shaking and gyrating.

Mario had a bit of a comeback this week after taking it on the chin two weeks in a row, particularly out of Len, and landing in the bottom two couples. Latin dance seemed to agree with him however, allowing him to cut loose a bit and improvise a little more. After the first week, I thought he would be one of the finalists, but I may have to reverse my field on that now. He seems to have some difficulty with keeping moves and lines clean and sharp, which will really start to catch up with him once they whittle down the numbers a bit farther.

Cristian was a little above average. He seems to be flying right under the radar the whole time. I think the Cheryl continues to be his biggest obstacle. Yes Cheryl, we know you’re good. We all know that you won this thing twice, and there’s all kinds of other stuff you’ve won in your young career. But when she dances, she is so dramatic about her movements that no matter how good he gets, he’s still going to look like he’s not keeping up.

The majority of the ladies seemed to run across a multitude of issues this week. Priscilla managed to do the splits, not bad for someone who’s 147, but she missed Louis’ hand a few times coming out of turns and just didn’t seem to do a whole lot. Marissa seemed thrilled about the idea of being able to cut loose and shake, but she seemed to have a hard time reeling it in. She just looked out of control the whole time.

Shannon was all right…that’s about it. She was just all right. She’s got to be the least graceful good-looking woman I have ever seen. Also, she is totally out of breath at the end of every performance. I realize the jive was high impact, but last night was pretty mellow, and last week’s Viennese waltz also had her gassed. I’m thinking she’s got to be a 2 pack a day smoker or something. On a side note, Derek is one of my favorite pros on this show. I think he’s a lot of fun to watch, and his goofiness makes him very endearing. But whenever they are working on something in practice that is supposed to be “passionate” he gets this silly little grin on his face and I can almost guarantee he is thinking “I’ve TOTALLY seen this girl naked in American Pie.”

This was the first week that Marlee seemed to really struggle. Some of the movements and directions associated with them seemed to get lost in translation somewhere between her teacher, her interpreter, and her. I really appreciate the inspiration that she’s been on this show, and she’s been better than most until now. However, when you can’t hear, starting a routine with your back to the person you are dancing with becomes quite and issue when you can’t hear a beat to start on. Last night was the first time I think that being deaf really caught up with her.

Not to be outdone, Jason and Kristy blew it up again. Well, not as much as they had in past weeks, but enough to once again lead the pack. Jason is one of the more graceful people I have ever seen on this show, professionals aside of course. He is smoother than most of the female stars this season. Carrie Ann said he needed to find something to do with his hands when at his sides and not being placed. And Len said that the choreography featured Edyita a little too much, and not quite enough of him. Bruno was Bruno. Straight 9’s for the NFL Man of the Year.

Kristy once again took a 29, not quite able to get that perfect score. Actually it’s not that she’s no yet able, but not it seems very obvious that she set the bar too high too fast, and the judges seem to be taking turns to be the one to give her the 9 between the other 10’s. They are going to scrutinize her the way they have been, which is harder than the other competitors. My only problem with her performance was that I didn’t get anything particularly Latin out of it. She danced to a well-performed John Mayer song, not Latin… she had a flowing blue dress on, and while it made her look fabulous, not Latin… and the tempo of the dance, while well choreographed, was mellow. Not Latin. None of that however, is her fault, and all that said she was wonderful from start to finish.

My guess would have been that Priscilla would be departing this evening, but she has a lot of staying power just based on the fact that everyone knows who she is. I’m thinking either Marlee or Marissa will be taking their leave tonight.

Elimination 3

2008-04-09T09:41:00.001-07:00

Last night was the end of the road for another brave soul who would undertake the tribulations of the underground world of ballroom dancing. But the real story of the night, at least the way I saw it, was the performance of the special guests that joined the show.

Last night Sheryl Crow came out to perform a few songs which was all well and good, but more impressive were the up and comers. They stars and pros were joined by 2 new couples with an average age of 8.25 years. Yes, that means they had kids dancing on the results show. And dance they did. The first couple kicked off the presentation with a wonderful Rumba to the classic Disney song, Under the Sea from The Little Mermaid. The second couple danced a magnificent Paso Doble before the judges, audience, and millions of viewers. Make no mistake about it, these kids were no joke. The boys in particular were every single speck as good as the stars that are trying to learn the routines this season. And yes I know these kids have had more experience than this season’s stars, but seriously, they’re 8. What’s more, and it’s kind of an afterthought but important nonetheless were the costumes. They were very tasteful, as were the dance moves. Everything was tasteful and consistently appropriate considering the age of the performers.

With a tie atop the leader board for the best score of the week, Jason and Kristi were both quickly saved from elimination and will dance again next week. No real surprise there. The lights came on to signify the bottom 2, and the red hue was cast on Adam and Julianne and Priscilla and Louis. And with the lowest combined scores, we bid adieu to Adam Carolla. It’s too bad on one hand. He was, if nothing else entertaining. And he was making some progress as a dancer. But it was clear that he wasn’t moving along quickly enough to keep pace with the rest of the field. He was gracious in his defeat, encouraging all people to try to embrace something they are scared to do.

So far, the only thing that has been a surprise is how fast the leaders have reached scores as high as they are. Last season, we had at least one major upset in the early exit of Sabrina Bryan. But so far, so real shockers. Assuming the consistent level of progression that we’ve seen so far, and assuming no one trips and falls, exposes themselves to the audience, or just doesn’t show up, I think we’re going to see Marissa in the bottom two alongside Priscilla. Mario is on that block too if he doesn’t raise his game a bit. Len pointed out some lackluster moves last week, and the judges are starting to take notice of his opinion.

Stuffed Jalapenos

2008-04-07T08:45:00.001-07:00

A fair amount of the blogs I read are culinary-based. A lot of chefs post various recipes for things they cook. I gotta say, I never quite understood why they do that? Tyler Florence displays in some of his cook books the recipes that he uses hopes to use in one of his restaurants. If you give people step-by-step instructions as to how to make what you make, won’t that prohibit them from coming to your place to get it? I guess what they are banking on is that fact that people won’t take the time to make things on their own, or have convinced themselves that they can’t cook on their own.

The stuff I make is far simpler than the complex concoctions produced by chefs who have received a Michelin Star. If you read one of my previous posts about my favorite thing to cook, you’ll see how easy it is. Point of fact, I have a binder of recipes that I keep with my wife and we add to it after having tried a recipe and deeming it worthy of a repeat performance.

But everyone is doing it, so what the hell. I figure I will start publishing some recipes that have been a success for me in the past, and will continue to make in the future. If anyone out there tries them, drop me a line and let me know what you thought.

Stuffed Jalapenos
2 Jars of pickles jalapeno peppers (generally 5 to a can)
1 can of white albacore tuna in spring water
1 brick of cream cheese, softened
Salt
Pepper
Garlic powder
Remove the peppers from the jar and let sit to dry on a paper towel. Cut the stems off, and then slice them length-wise into halves. Again, dry them of the oil inside the pepper. While drying, drain the tuna and mix together with the cream cheese. Add dashes of salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste. Remove the seeds and membrane from the inside of the peppers, leaving a “boat”. Pack the cream cheese into the pepper, and chill to solidify each piece, and serve cold. If you want them spicier, leave a few seeds or some membrane inside the boats.

My Favorite Thing to Cook

2008-04-04T10:05:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, I made a sandwich. It was a bologna sandwich. I am really not that big a fan of bologna. I don’t eat it all that often, and I haven’t eaten it by itself on a sandwich since I was probably 7 or 8. I made it on this particular day for Trina. It’s what she wanted, and there was a specific method of assembly that had to be followed. It went toasted bread, mayo, bologna folded, cheese, bologna folded again, cheese again, spinach, and then the other piece of toasted bread also with a little dusting of mayo. I wanted to put a little flare into it somehow. Toast it all together, melt the cheese, do some kind of seasoning, something like that. She told me not to, and the way she wanted it was how I made it.

People ask me, usually when I am cooking, what’s my favorite thing to cook? I think it’s mostly polite conversation mixed with a minor quiz about what else I know how to make. The truth is, I can make a lot of things. I can do meats, seafood, maybe some surf and turf, a few soups, tons of different appetizers, flambéed desserts, and we have even experimented with various flavored vodkas…which I agree isn’t really cooking, but still recipe sensitive and presentation worth.

But my favorite thing to make is what has affectionately taken on the name “The Spanglish Sandwich”. It comes from something that Adam Sandler makes himself in the movie, Spanglish, and Trina asked me one day if I could make it. I figured I probably could, so I took a shot at it, and the recipe goes like this:

2 pieces of bread
2 pieces of American cheese
a few slices of tomato
1 egg
butter

Butter one side of each piece of bread, and place it butter-side down in a frying pan. Place one piece of cheese on each slice of bread, and cook until golden brown. If you’re playing along at home, yes, this is an open-faced grilled cheese sandwich. While this is going on, fry the egg to whatever temperature you prefer. I usually do it over well with no runny, but it’s up to you. Once it’s all done, place the egg on one piece of bread, the sliced tomato on the egg, cover with the other piece of bread, cut it on the diagonal, and munch.

To be honest, it’s not my thing. It really doesn’t appeal to me all that much. I’m not a big fan of fried eggs, and it sounds like an odd combination of flavors, but I guess they go together. All of this begs the question, “why is this my favorite thing to cook?”

Simple…. Trina loves it.

Common Sense Never Set In...

2008-04-04T05:55:00.000-07:00

I have developed a new recipe that I have now made three times in the past week. It’s become such an indulgence, that last night Trina went out after a long day at work to get ingredients after having been home relaxing. I guess to say that I developed this recipe is not all together accurate. I guess I just got motivated to put it all together. This tasty treat is loaded-down fries.

It’s pretty simple actually. Throw some salt and pepper on frozen fries, and into the over with them. 450 degrees until they’re almost crispy, then broil for a few minutes so none of them are soggy when it’s all said and done. Once they’re done, melt some mild cheddar and mozzarella cheeses. Drizzle some Ranch dressing on top, and crush some crispy bacon on top. Nothing particularly difficult there. So why is this concoction worth of a blog? That has something to do with the first time I considered making them at home.

The plan was to do the whole thing from scratch, which would include making the fries. I pulled up several recipes online about how to make them, which sounds obvious enough, but we don’t have a deep fryer. Not to be outdone by the situation, I looked at the alternative methods for cooking them in oil in a stockpot right on the oven. I knew this could be a potentially messy affair, but I was willing to risk it.

And at no point did common sense set it…

I went to the store to get what would be needed. Anyone out there know how much oil fries require to cook? I’m not exactly sure what the amount is, but it’s probably a few cups at most. Totally unaware of this situation, I figured I better get a little extra incase I screw up once or twice trying to figure out the timing. By the way, any mistake involving oil is going to be messy, so keep that in mind in your future cooking exploits. But in my infinite wisdom, I figured 2 gallons of oil oughta do it. Unless you cook A LOT you have no concept of how much oil 2 gallons actually is, nor how long it will take to use it.

And at no point did common sense set in…

I went home at that point, thrilled with the prospect of things to come. I cut my potatoes and started warming the oil to what I assumed might be a decent temperature. No thermometer to be found mind you, I had it all figured out. About the time that the way-too-much amount of oil in the pot got way too hot, I figured it was time to have a go. When oil is smoking, it’s too hot for anything, by the way.

And at no point did common sense set it…

Too dark, too light, golden brown but raw in the middle. I just couldn’t figure out what the best combination of circumstances was going to be to make this thing work. It was at this point that a shrill sound coupled with my dog barking forced common sense to set it. The oil was smoking so badly that I had set off the smoke alarm, clouded the kitchen (and dining room, and living room, and part of the hallway), and everything was getting messy in the kitchen.

I had no choice but to concede defeat. I turned off the stove, let the oil cool, opened the doors and windows, and sat in utter frustration. Having made new recipes in the forms of tuna tartare, banana’s foster, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and potato and leek soup in the past 2 months, I now sat bested by a potato.

I’ve been to gun shy to try again with the fries from scratch and all. It’s probably better that way to be honest. It just never occurred to me that making fries would be so complicated, and surely an amateur chef of my experience could swing it. But as I’ve mentioned in past blogs, I have received a fair amount of knowledge and inspiration from various celebrity chefs, Rocco DiSpirito among them. His philosophy is that shortcuts are not bad things. Using premade purees, pastes, food processors, or in this case, frozen fries requires chefs to spend less time in the kitchen, affording them more time enjoying their creations with the people for whom they cooked. That generally is the point, after all.

So take a page from the books of the pros. Allow for the simplest idea to be the right one, even if it feels too simple to make sense. Otherwise you may fall victim to a pain-in-the-ass scenario where common sense just never set in.

Week 2 Elimination

2008-04-02T11:11:00.000-07:00

The second elimination was handed down last night, and while unfortunate, I can’t say that I am surprised at the results. Names were called and the music played with the perilous red light shining all around the contestants. But in the end, we bid farewell to Steve Guttenberg.

I have to say that generally I’m not that big a fan of the elimination episodes. I’m always curious to see who is staying and going, but the rest of the show tends to be kind of dull. Last night however, they did well to keep it interesting. Julianne and Mark came out and danced to a live performance by Kylie Minogue, and they showed exactly why it they are the professionals.

Monday night’s performances were all in all, kind of lack luster. It seemed that the competitors on the lower scoring end in weeks past elevated their performances in a consistent manner, while everyone at the top of the food chain struggled. Jason Taylor was all right. Not bad, but certainly not as good as he was last week. I’m not sure if the jive just didn’t suit him with his size, if he was resting on his laurels, or if Edyta pushed him too far outside his comfort zone. And a hectic work schedule played into a mediocre performance by Mario. To be fair though, they were still better than the rest, by and large. It’s more a case of them having been so good in the first 2 weeks that any shortcoming was obvious.

Monday was also the first night Kristi looked like a mere mortal. She still took the highest score of the week, scoring straight 9’s from each judge. By the end of the competition, it will be difficult to tell who is the actual professional, Mark or Kristi.

For those who missed it, Jonathan Roberts and Steve Guttenberg had the most memorable tango…together… in the first ever Man-go. Steve’s partner, who is also Jonathan’s wife, was stricken with the flu while in training, and to keep Steve from missing too much training time, Jonathan came to his aid and danced the ladies part of a tango. It wasn’t a saving grace for Steve, but the live performance of the first even Man-go was one for the books.
Next week will bring another elimination. And this is the first time so far this season that I don’t think there’s a clear cut looser. In terms of talent, I think Marissa or Adam will have to be on the block next. But Christian better be careful sitting on the bubble.

The First Elimination

2008-03-27T09:44:00.001-07:00

I am sorry to report that I wasn’t able to see all the DWTS in its 2-hour entirety the other night. I had a friend who was preparing for an interview so I was catching what I could while talking to him and folding clothes. But here are the highlights as I saw them:

Kristi blew it up again, scoring her second 27 out of a possible 30 points. She is going to continue to lead the field for a while, barring her tripping and falling on the ground at some point.

Jason Taylor shook his groove thang and managed to match Kristi’s 27. It’s looking like a race between these two as far as who is going to get the first 10, and who will steal the first perfect score. But don’t sleep on Mario. With a strong 26, he’s going to be right on their heels. And I still contend he and his partner are a little more than strictly partners.

Adam Carolla, Penn Jillette, and Monica Seles still struggled. Steve Guttenberg was also among the lower scores, but personally, I think he was hosed a bit. I thought he made improvements from his first performances, but the judges didn’t see it that way.

Ultimately, there were no surprises when the eliminations were handed down, excusing Monica and Penn. I think that Monica’s nerves proved to be her undoing. She never seemed to be able to relax at all. And Penn didn’t do poorly, but he’s just so big and his partner so small that it just never quite reached a synergy.
As for next week, the people who aren’t getting their game up to par, and quickly at that, are going to show up as glaring under qualified. This isn’t necessarily because they’re that bad, but this season the field is just that good. Since next week they are going back to eliminating a single couple at a time, my bet is we will be sending off either Steve or Adam.

For a Friend...

2008-03-27T08:39:00.001-07:00

Last week my wife had a minor car accident in the lot of our condo complex. It was nothing major. No injuries or tow truck needed. She came back in to wake me up, and tell me what happened, and admittedly, I was not thrilled. As it turned out, an honest, slow moving “oops” cost a few hundred bucks.

I had plans that day. I had just accepted my new job the afternoon before after months of looking. I was going to sleep in, go get my drug test done, hit the grocery store, and then go have a look at a few new car options. My drug test took almost an hour, not to mention I had to go home and come back again to prove that I was actually on a medicine I claimed to be on. Traffic sucked all four times I made the drive. I didn’t get to the grocery store. In the midst of all this we had to drop off the injured car for repairs, which called for me to borrow one from my mom. Needless to say, there was a lot of shuffling around and tedious work getting done. And I didn’t get to do hardly anything on my list.

About mid-day when I realized I wasn’t going to get to do anything I planned, I was pretty much mad…just flat out mad. Then I got a call from Vanik.

Vanik left me a message that I couldn’t hear very well. I was driving and distracted so I wasn’t concentrating too hard to be honest. But there was something about someone who we (static) deals with in the past (static) Paula died last night (static) and so on. I only knew one Paula, and we had just spoken the day before. She wasn’t sick or hurt or anything…no chronic illnesses. So I didn’t think anything of it, and finished errands. Once I was finished, I stopped by my office to talk to Vanik for some clarification, and was instead greeted with a slew of questions about Paula. The same Paula I knew. The same one I had worked with and been friends with for nearly 3 years. It was at that point, that it had dawned on me that this was not a coincidence. My friend, Paula, the one with whom I had exchanged countless real estate oriented pick me ups, the one who had called me on the morning of my wedding to say hello and she was thinking of us, the one who I had spoken to literally 24 hours prior to share my good fortune of my new job, and the one who excitedly congratulated me on my position was now gone. No symptoms, no signals, no history of anything adverse. No warning.

I called Trina. I never call Trina and she never calls me. We only talk on the phone about 6 times a year, if that, and those are in cases of emergencies. Of course she assumed I was calling about the total on the car repairs, and I gave her the number. And I quickly followed it with saying clearly that I didn’t care. Our cars are my babies. For me to not care about what happened to them or what it would cost to have them fixed was serious. I told her what had happened, and immediately she was ready to leave work to come be with me. I told her to stay, thanking her for the concern. But said again that I didn’t care about the cars. That’s all I could think of. I don’t care about the cars.

Reality became very clear to me that afternoon, and I sat down in the middle of my living room with my dog in my lap and lost it. I just cried for about 20 minutes. Then I composed myself, sucked down 2 beers back to back, which is something I never ever do, and lost it again for a few more minutes. Okay, so reality wasn’t so clear just then, but once I got myself together the second time, this is what came out…
I measured my bad day in dollars and cents for the most part. That, and in time lost as well. My day was wasted, I have nothing to show for it, and I was $900 poorer. And it didn’t matter because Trina was going to be home in a few hours. She was going to come in, and hug me, and see how I was, and we were going to get our car back, and have some sushi that night, or whatever. I thought I had a bad day? No…Paula’s fiancée Steve had a bad day. He would’ve wasted an afternoon and a sum of money to have her come home that day.

I don’t agree with the “live like you were dying” principle. I think that it gives people a license to live like an idiot because “who knows, you might die tomorrow”. Yes indeed you might. I would rather assume the role that I am going to live. If I’m ever injured in an accident, I want the docs to operate on me with the knowledge that I plan to live. But that doesn’t mean that everyone else around you feels the same way. Live like you are living, not dying. Love the ones your with. See them often. Don’t leave them angry.

As for Paula, if you knew her, you loved her, and that’s all there is to it. You couldn’t know her and not like her. She touched a lot of people after knowing them even if she knew them for a very short time. Her smile and happiness were infectious. The world is a lesser place with her loss. But rest assured she’s busy where she is making sure everyone she knew is as safe as she can make them

DWTS pt.2

2008-03-19T09:54:00.000-07:00

Last night the 6 competing women took the stage, and while amateurs themselves, made the men look particularly weak.

Shannon Elizabeth got things started for the ladies dancing with retruning professional, Derek Hough. Shannon looked the part in her outfit, and didn't do too badly all in all. She was a little bit stiff at a few points, and apparently not all that flexible of a girl which was made evident at a few points in her routine. Of course, it's not really her fault that Derek chose to have her do moves that required a certain level of flexability, but it didn't help her cause a great deal. Meanwhile, Derek's grin through the highlights of their training said without words "I've seen you naked in a move...I've seen you naked in a movie." She isn't a strong choice to win, but she'll hang around for a while.

Grand Slam tennis champ Monica Seles was set to perform with last year's professional finalist, Jonathan Roberts. Unfortunately, she struggled. She tried her best, but she was so nervous she was almost shaking at one point and nearly crying at another. She was awarded stright 5's, and while I don't think she'll be around much longer, she was MILES ahead of Adam Carolla who received stright 5's the night before.

Marissa Jaret Winokur was clearly vibrant and full of life. But she is, I'm sorry to say, on the larger side, and I think that will only allow for a certain level of grace. Honestly, while she was sweet and bubbly, it got a little old rather quickly. Again, she won't bring it home, but she'll compel the others around her to be better.

Priscilla Presley was rather impressive, if you can put aside the fact that her face is starting to look like Michael Jackson. She was very composed and elegant. Her partner, Louis van Amstel, did a great job with the routine's choreography allowing Priscilla to dance within herself the whole time. We'll be seeing her for a while.

Oscar winner Marlee Matlin was amazing. She dancing a very smooth routine, easily as smooth as the rest of the women, and lest we forget that she's deaf and can't hear the music. Carrie Ann made it clear that they were going to remove as much passion for her situation as possible to try to judge purely on talent. Fair is fair, but I think the judges over compensated a bit by giving her straight 7's. She deserved and 8 in there somewhere.

Kristi Yamaguchi brought the house down. Maybe she has an advantage being a figure skater, but don't forget, she never skated with a partner. She was elegant, smooth, confident, and enjoyed herself. She got straight 9's, outscoring everyone in the field regardless of gender. The judges even admitted as much as they had to really look for faults in order not to score her a 10. Like Mario, she may have set the bar a little to high a little too fast. But she is going to do some real damage to the field in short order.

Battle of the Reality TV Shows (not stars...shows)

2008-03-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

Reality tv shows are rampant at this point in history. It makes sense on a lot of levels. It's cheaper to have one person win a hundred thousand life-changing dollars than to pay a cast $100k a piece per episode. Or in the case of a blockbuster hit like Friends or Seinfeld, several million per.

Does anyone really remember the first one? The show that started it all? I have asked this question of a good many people. I have gotten a good many responses. The one that seems to stick in everyone's head is Survivor. But if you think back a bit farther, you may remember a show about seven strangers picked to live in a house together and see what happens when people stop being nice...and start being real. The tagline went something like that, and the show was MTV's The Real World.

We love reality shows as a society. If you disagree, you're not paying attention. American Idol has been so successful, that before the start of the most recent season, ABC, NBC, and CBS got together and offered Simon Cowell $20 million to just walk away from Idol. They dominate the ratings. Look on the brightside; eventually, we will all have a shot at a grand prize on a reality show, or producers will run out of cast members.

MTV now has the Real World/Raod Rules Challanges where past cast members face off in various battles. People are eliminated in vaious ways according to different stipulations and rules which change season to season. There is always some backstabbing, various alliances, cheating and so on. They're entertaining as hell if nothing else. But with so many shows about the same topics to say nothing of the blatant rips offs, who knows what about anything?

My favorite blogs to write are the countdown-style ones. I have a number of them in my archives, and it's just a format that I like. So here now is my countdown of the Reality TV show Battles I would like to see the most.

5). The Real Housewives of Orange County vs. The Real Housewives of NYC: I saw the commercials for OC, and I thought these women were vile. I was convinced they were all talk, big-spending trophy wives. This is true to a point, but the richest women on that show make their own cash. Their husbands are living off them. The NYC crew is much more petty, with a debutant's sense of entitlement. I think the women in OC win this round.

4). Ghost Hunters vs. Paranormal State: I like both of these shows a great deal. There is a cetain level of requirement to suspend your disbelief in both cases. Ryan and Grant with the TAPS team (GH) presume all supernatural experiences to be false until proven true. This level of skepticism lends credibility to their investigation. Ryan and the Paranormal Research Society (PSU) does very introspective background research into the history of a scenario. What they uncover can be absolutely chilling. Fascinating, but chilling. While I really enjoy both shows, I like the tinacity with which Ryan's team approaches their investigations. PSU wins, but just barely.

3). Deadliest Catch vs. Ice Road Truckers: If you've seen Deadliest Catch even once and aren't addicted to it, you either watched the wrong show, or are lying. I love the peril, the attitudes, the tempers, and the payoffs. Ice Road Truckers, likewise dangerous. But with all due respect to those guys, it doesn't stack up to the possibility of being swept over a rail or crushed by a swinging pot. (A crab pot, not cooking utensil) Both groups of guys have guts, no doubt. I couldn't do either job I don't think. But the edge in danger along with the massive payoff for the crab fisherman gives them the win.

2). Top Chef vs. Hell's Kitchen: I love to cook, so this is a showdown I have to see. I would love to see Chef Tom Collichio grab 1 contestant from each season, and Gordon Ramsey do the same. And then, have a cullinary throwdown Iron Chef style to determine who's the best. As for the shows, let's see now; I like the real cooking scenarios provided by Chef Ramsey in Hell's Kitchen. But I enjoy the creativity that is used by the contestants on Top Chef. Tough call... but I think I like Top Chef a bit more.

1). Human Weapon vs. Fight Quest: What better way to celebrate the posturing nature of Americans by sending a few guys around the world to get an ass whupin' laid on them by guys half their size? By starting the show Human Weapon where Bill and Jason try to learn a martial art in a week's time and then fight someone who's been doing it for years. And what better way to assure continued immaturity? Grab Jimmy and Doug and do it all again on Fight Quest. The shows are a virtual cloning of one another. Human Weapon came first and examines some of the physical properties of what key moves work so well in different disciplines. Fight Quest, however, makes both guys fight at the end of the training. I'd love to see a 4-man battle royal to see who comes out on top. They have all been a party to the same styles, so they can agree on one and have at it. Ultimately, because it came first, Human Weapon has to have the edge. But the knock out punch is that Human Weapon not only has someone battle it out, but shows why everything works the way it does.

Have a look at any or all of them.

I'm out...

Dancing With the Stars

2008-03-18T09:25:00.000-07:00

I decided at the end of Dancing With the Stars last season, that an on-going introspective, regular Joe's anaylsis of the dancing would be something entertaining for me to put together. It keeps me involved in a running project and gives me a creative outlet. Since I didn't get to see all of last season, I'm going to break it down this season for as many of the episodes as I can keep up with.

So here it goes...

The first thing I have noticed about this season, and to a degree last season, is that the stars are becoming more and more famous. Originally, there were some people they had to pull from the depths of virtual obscurity. But as the seasons have progressed, more current stars seem to have taken an interest.

Last night the 6 male contestants took the floor for the season opener. World-renowned magician, Penn Jillette led of the night with his partner, Dancing With the Stars Veteran, Kym Johnson. I can appreciate the physical difficulty of making your body do something it doesn't normally do. And I support the effort to overcome the mental difficulties of putting yourself in a position that isn't somewhere you're used to being. That goes for all the contestants. And Penn has the added difficulty of being easily a foot taller than his deminutive partner. Still, he looked particularly awkward and uncomfortable. The judges gave him some grief for his posture, but come on...it's like Shaq out there.

Christian de la Fuente was paired with 2-time DWTS winner Cheryl Burke. Historically, the latin men have always seemed to have some manner of innate ability to pick up the dances and move seamlessly. Not so much for Christian. He was okay for his first night out, but looked like he was slouching all night...a common theme amongst the men. But while the other pros watered down their moves to accommodate the novice level of their partners, Cheryl just kept right on spinning like a top with sharp and complex motions which succeeded only in making him look worse.

Funny man Adam Carolla was partnered with the other 2-time winner, Julianne Huff. I guess the producers decided that 2 wins were enough for her.

Actor, Steve Guttenberg had a wonderful first show. His dancing left a bit to be desired, but he really embraced the wholesome and entertaining nature of the program. He was gracious about the critiques that were offered to him, and his enjoyent of the evening was apparent all night.

NFL superstar Jason Taylor of the Miami Dolphins really took a chance by being a part of the cast. Ofcourse, he's going to catch three kinds of hell from his teammates for ballroom dancing in the off season, but he was flat out good. Like Penn, he's a particularly big guy. Shocker...a football player is big. But he moved very well and was well received by the judges and audience alike.

But the night belonged to R&B signer, Mario. At 21, he is the youngest competitor on the show, and he has been paired with Karina Smirnoff. Karina, for those of you not keeping score at home, was the pro who managed to take another Mario, Mario Lopez, all the way to the finals a few seasons back. Mario was smooth, graceful, and personable, a true triple threat to all contestants. While the men generally were scoring in the mid to upper teens, Mario started his conquest with a solid 24. Last season, Sabrina Bryan started off in a similar manner only to be ousted in what most fans considered to be borderline unacceptable. Hopefully this won't happen here. His biggest issue, however, may be that he set the bar too high too fast for his future performances. But unless one of the woman does something spectacular, he should run away with it.

The women perform tonight at 9. Let's see what they have to offer.

Knight Industry's Two Thousand

2008-02-21T06:13:00.000-08:00

When I was a little boy, I had an overwhelming fascination with a particular show. I think all little boys loved this show, at least any of them who grew up in the early 80's. And if you could get an honest answer out of them, some big boys loved it too. It was a weekly installment of a lone do-gooder type and his mystical car. It was a "shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist" according to the voiceover in the opening credits.

Wilton Knight, a dying millionaire, undertook the operation to create the "Foundation for Law and Government" which was anchored by a young police office who was recently shot in the face, requiring reconstructive surgery. Teamed with a car that could cruise well in excess of 200 mph, jump at will, search with infrared scanners, fax, make phone calls, cook breakfast. It was indestructible except for the one time eco-terrorists pushed it into a pool f toxic filth which neutralized the nanotechnology surrounding the car's body allowing it to take damage. It's rebuilding process and re-learning of how to fight crime was very difficult and dare I say he was scared (no kidding that really happened). And don't forget it could talk. The injured cop, Michael, and the Knight Industry's Two Thousand (hereafter known as KITT) would save the world one evildoer at a time.

My wife and I were talking about this show in terms of it's recent underhyped modern remake that recently aired on NBC. I couldn't help but notice that this particular remake was not exactly Emmy worthy material, considering it's cheesy nature. She reminded me that the first one was exactly stellar in it's execution either. But I have to disagree, and here's why...

This was the 80's. A time when tight jeans and big hair reigned supreme. And during this time in history, there were no jeans tighter, nor hair bigger then David Hasslehoff. Lest we forget the honorable mention for the chest hair that was sure to peek out from the unbuttoned top of the button down shirt he was sure to be wearing. The show was wholesome. Very rarely did anyone ever die, which included the bad guys. Michael never carried a gun. And in the rare instance that someone was killed, it was regarded with a serious nature. It was never trivial, and there was always a regret, remourse, and/or sorrow. Also along the wholesome vibe, Michael was never sleeping with lots of women. There may have been allusions to him getting the girl because this was the 80's and that's what happened to heros. But he was never out ho-ing. Finally, there was a real sense of good overcoming evil. If the hour was winding to a close and the powers or good had not yet overcome, well I guess you'll have to wait for the second part of that paticular installment, because Michael and KITT are going to make it right.

So addicted was I to this show, that 22 years later (the show wrapped in 1986) the theme song is still to this day the ring tone on my cell phone. Michael Knight, I salute you.

rocco's webisodes

2008-01-30T09:24:00.000-08:00

the new thing i've come across in the past few days are webisodes. and yes, maybe i am in fact behind the times at 27, but i'm seeing more and more celebrities who have something to offer besides crotch shots and tabloids about their babies posting webisodes.

rocco dispirito is one such celebrity.

the first time i had ever heard of rocco dispirito was while watching top chef with my wife about 6 months ago. he was a guest judge, and very impressive in his overall presentation. i've seen a lot of people do guest spots on that show, and a lot of them are jerks. either that or they totally submit to what the other judges have to say about who should move on. he did not.

rocco is a professional chef, author, talk show host, triathelete, and webisoder. he has little 3 minute clips on bertolli's website that show all kinds of little additions to make a meal better. or perhaps to try something you've never seen or heard of before. but while scanning through his webisodes, here's what i picked up inside of about 5 minutes.

he has a great book called "rocco's five minute flavor". there are a ton of recipes in there all created with the same criteria. they are all five ingredients or less, take five minutes to prepare or less, and cost five dollars per serving or less. it's a great book and definately worth having a copy of.

here is my brief presentation of "chop's 5 minute insight". the premise here is to learn five things about cooking in five minutes or less.

1. just like there are 3 primary colors, there are 4 primary flavors that make up everything we taste; sour, salt, sweet, and bitter.
2. when you are cooking, to brown something is to make it sweeter while to char something (i.e. charbroil) is to make it bitter.
3. extra virgin cold-pressed olive oil is better suited for seasonings
4. standard olive oil is better suited for cooking.
5. pinot griggio is the best catch all wine for itallian food complementing.

Are You Kidding Me?

2008-01-25T15:04:00.001-08:00

Maybe some of you out there in the world have seen or heard of the situation surrounding Tiger Woods and Golf Channel anchorwoman Kelly Tilghman. If you didn't, here is the Reader's Digest version. In an effort to applaud Tiger's skill, she suggested on record that the only way for up and coming players on the tour to beat him was to "lynch him in a back alley".

Oops.

Golf Channel suspended her for 2 weeks. Once returned to the air, she apologized with professionalism and sincerity. Tiger, being nothing short of a consumate professional, accepted her apology, and made it clear that he realized there was no ill-will or malice intended by her statement. That could have gone a lot differently for everyone. Tiger could've raised hell. He could've screamed about his lot in life. He could've drawn attention again and again to the facts that he represents two minorities and that his legacy will be tarnished forever by this insensitive publication, and on and on and on. The most popular and dominant golfer in the world could've called for her head on a pike.

He did none of these things. He recognized the error in her judgement, and the inappropriate use of the phrase "lynch". Anyone who suggests that this term doesn't hold a poigniant meaning, particularly for an African American has clearly never seen a history book. But recognizing the mistake, Tiger accepted her apology in turn, and decided to speak no more of it. Well done, sir.

Jim Brown, however, did not accept her apology. This in and of itself is a funny statement to me. Jim Brown is not an athlete currently participating in a professional sport. Jim Brown is not a professional golfer. Jim Brown is clearly not Tiger Woods. So far, I cannot see rhyme or reason why Tilghman should apologize to Jim Brown? But he disagrees. It would seem that the air of blackness that he feels is necessary for all minority athletes to carry around was not sufficiently upheld by Tiger on this day. Brown seems to think that Tiger responded in a politically correct time and place. The shame! Seems to me that he would like Tiger to walk around pissed off with a massive chip on his shoulder about how much life sucks in his (Tiger's) black athlete world. Lest we forget, Tiger set many records last year, but amoung them was the most money earned by any athelte in a calander year...ever. That number, in case you were wondering, just topped $100,000,000. Yeah I'm sure his life sucks.

Tiger is well embraced by the bulk of the world. It doesn't matter if you golf or not. you probably know who he is. He is a professional. He is a celebrity. He is what the kind of person that the sporting world needs. He embraced the situation with grace and integrity, and until Tilghman says something to Jim Brown for which he should take offense...just shut up.

5 Coolest Job Titles

2008-01-24T08:06:00.001-08:00

In my recent endevor to find myself a new job, I have run across a great many people claiming to be a great many things. There have been job titles that I have laughed at, scoffed at, made fun of, been curious about, or in some cases, flat out wanted.

So here is what I have come up with; these are going to be the top job titles that I have seen. The jobs themselves may be bullshit, but the titles they carry are somewhat redeeming. But as in any countdown, here are the rules...

1. You have to be able to put it on a business card that you could hand to anyone. For example, you probably wouldn't hand a card that reads "Professional Call Girl" or "Male Escort" to your grandmother or your children. And that leads nicely into the second criteria...
2. You have to be able to sign it at the bottom of your W-2 or 1099. When you pay taxes, you are always asked your profession at the bottom with your signature. Job titles such as "Call Girl", "Escort", "Marajuana Cultivator/Entrepenuer" (yes that means drug dealer no matter how you slice it) isn't going to work.
3. You have to get paid to do it. Sounds simple enough, but this is pretty much in there to rule out the people who want to call themselves CEO's when in fact, they are a cog in the wheel that is AMWAY.
4. It has to sound cool, period. Anything sounds cool when you introduce yourself and "Bond. James Bond." For example, "Nice to meet you. My name is Bond. James Bond. I am a professional balloon sculptor." But the true test it can you say it with a name like Lloyd Christmas (a.k.a. Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber)?

So here, in no paritcular order, are the top five coolest job titles I have come across.

5. Actuary: Yes I know this is a cool word for an accountant. But it's still a cool word. If you were smooth about your introduction you could press up on someone, shake their hand, and say "Hello sir...Lloyd Christmas, actuary." Sounds good to me.
4. Angler: For those who don't know, this is a sport fisherman. To be a bit more specific, a fisherman who catches fish with a hook as opposed to a net. "Lloyd Christmas, angler."
3. Neurosurgeon: Who doesn't sound like a stud introducing themselves as a Neurosurgeon?
2. Brigadier General: Just say this one out loud one time. The truth of it is, a full Colonel is in charge of a batallion, while the next step up to Brigadier General puts you in charge of not a whole lot. But it sure sounds cool. Honorable mention to Rear Admiral too.
1. Imagineer: This is a term totally drummed up by Disney as a corporation for the people who sit around and think up all the wild and crazy stuff in their theme parks, product lines, and pretty much anything else that keeps that multi-gazillion dollar empire running. All those days playing Dungeons and Dragons seems to be paying off doesn't it. "Hi, Lloyd Chirstmas...Imagineer."

What I've Learned Today

2008-01-21T10:12:00.000-08:00

Today is January 21st, 2008. Interestingly enough, I have probably picked up more little pieces of information today than any other day yet this year. Some of these things I guess I already knew, but I'm going to put them in there just to give a better context of my education.

1. January in Mason, Ohio can be cold.
2. Car batteries never EVER go dead when it's 72 degrees with the sun out.
3. Car batteries never EVER go dead when there are a bunch of people hanging out around you near by...
4. ...neither do cell phones.
5. January in Mason, Ohio can be cold.
6. Car batteries are never located in plain, easy to get to, out in the open places in your car. There is always some brace, swing arm, really stiff hose, or other anomoly waiting to make the replacement of the battery just a little more interesting.
7. Cold weather makes for cold wrenches.
8. Cold wrenches make for cold hands.
9. Fine motor skills go to hell when your hands are cold.
10. January in Mason, Ohio can be cold.
11. A 10 mm crescent wrench is the ONLY tool you need to swap a dead battery out of a 2003 Mitsubishi Eclipse.
12. A 10 mm ratchet works a whole lot better.
13. A battery that is not quite as long and the cradle on which it sits will still fit in an operate the vehicle just fine, so long as it will fit width-wise.
14. Battery terminal grease as well as small felt rings around the battery terminal will prohibit corrosion of the leads, extending the battery's life.
15. This morning confirms that I did not miss my calling as a football handicapper, nor a Monday morning Quarterback.

A Gift from the Heart

2007-11-01T09:38:00.000-07:00

Now that they aformentioned Halloween is over, we can turn our sites on Christmas. Why Christmas and not Thanksgiving? Because Christmas shit is already out in all the stores. I heard next season, Walmart will have some fake trees out the week after Independence Day.

But I love Christmas. I love the whole season. I even enjoy the mild to moderate headaches you get from being in the mall breathing recycled air with the masses. Okay, that's a bit of a stretch, but it's safe to say I love the rest of it.

My wife and her family are craft-oriented people. Now admittedly, it's not my thing. I'm not really crafty, and only rarely creative. I just flat out can't make it work. But the more I am around them, the more I am coming to appreciate and even enjoy some of the things they can create. I can't spin crochet hooks through strings and yarns and some amount of time later pull out a blanket. It's hard, and believe me I've tried. If you think I'm full of it, just have a go. And the other part of the puzzle is that they, and specifically my wife, make useful things. They don't bend pipe cleaners together to look like various farm animals and call it art. Nor do they glue golden maccaroi to a piece of paper with googley eyes and call it a decorative statement. And if you've think I'm making this up, apparently you haven't seen what passes for "art" of late.

What really gets me though, is this; people, anyone at all, who will take the time to wrap up pictures of themselves, or more specifically their kids, and hand them off under the guise of a (picture a sarcastic guy clearing his throat as he does air quotes here) "gift". Are you freeking kidding me? Seriously? This is what you got me for Christmas?

Before I go further, I have to make allowences for the exceptions to this rule, and there are a few... The first acception which trumps all other rules of suck-ass gift giving, is if that is something that was asked for. As a newlywed, there are a few people that have specically asked for a photo of the wedding. They have chosen the one they want, and have asked to have it framed as a gift. Second, if there is a specific and deeply rooted sentimental attachment to the person or event in question. And third, if it's not the only gift that's being given. But even as special as my wedding day was, I could never feel good about giving someone a framed picture of my wife and I and with a straight face saying "Here's your gift." The occiasional fourth exception is gifts to grandparents. But even that isn't always acceptable.

One short year ago, I bore witness to such an event. I'm going to ommit the names and places, but if you know me, chances are you know who's and where's. An overly proud mother who thought that a great gift would be a framed picture of her son, and with that picture came a DVD. This DVD had upon it a slide show. This slide show ran about 2 hours. This slide show was all pictures of her son! You can't be serious. Wow, I wish I'd have bought your kid I see 3 times a year another $45 gift. What in the name of all things Holy is anyone going to do with a 2 hour DVD packed with photos of the first year and a half of some other person's kid? In what world is this an acceptable gift? Wow...two hours of the first year of your son's like where he can't barely hold up his own head, and does little more than eat, sleep, and poop. I feel totally unprepared. I wish I'd have gotten you another sweater and a nice bottle of wine.

The point is this; sentimentality has it's place, and an important place it is. But pick your times and places. 2 hours of still photos of your son is not sentimental. It's annoying. It's right up there with people put their kids on the phone to talk when in fact they are to young to do anything but gnaw and drool on the reciever. Think as you may that I'm being rude, cruel, or materialistic. But if you stop and think about it critically for a minute, you'll probably agree that a picture of someone's kid (and just as likely a picture you took and have in your own collection already) thrown in a frame only available in the mecca of civilized stuff, a.k.a. Walmart, just doesn't fly for every gift giving occasion.

If you haven't thought about it, consider it now, and get that "special sentimental someone" something they can use.

Crappy Candy

2007-11-01T09:24:00.000-07:00

Last night was Halloween. Little ghosts and gouls all dressed up walking through various neighborhoods asking total strangers for candy.

Actually, that's not all together accurate. When I was a kid, we were little ghosts and gouls. Kids today, and perhaps more accurately their parents, would rarely think of putting in some time and effort to dress their kids up in a homemade costume, put on some make-up, and send them out into the world. No. Instead parents go to Target.com and buy something. Or, in the case of the really lazy, throw on the seasonal sports outfit of your chosing and call yourself who ever is the pro athlete of the moment. The exclusion to this rule is the kid who can up last night in full football gear and a Carson Palmer jersey with a paper bag over his head tha read 2-5 in big letters. I like the creativity. Ultimately, I guess I better appreciate the institution of Halloween while I can because in this day and age of conspiracy theorists, it will be no time at all until kids aren't allowed to take candy from people for fear of SARS, Anthrax, or whatever.

But I digress...

This is a quick point of fact I have to make to all the people in the world who still give these things to trick-or-treaters; the little orange and black wrapped candies that no one can recognize and no one ever eats? You know what I'm talking about. They're not branded with anything, no one knows who made them, and no one knows what they taste like because of the story we all head once about the kid who ate one and was never seen nor heard from again... STOP HANDING THEM OUT! No one likes them, no one eats them, and I think the only reason anyone still knows what they are is because they were purchased in the early 70's and people still can't get rid of them damn things.

My mom would disagree however. She believes that everyone needs some level of crappy candy. It can't all be Jolly Ranchers and Snickers.

I disagree...

But beyond candy, we'll have to talk about gifts.

War of the Worlds

2007-08-30T10:16:00.000-07:00

I'm going to do a Quintin Terrintino maneuver here. I'm going to tell you the end first. And that is "When it comes right down to it, I'm neither pretty enough, nor weird enough to be here." An interesting point there. Why would I say such a thing that would sound so suppressive to my fragile male ego? Let's run it back.

A few days ago I was suffering from a bit of a lagging sensation as I left to go to work. So, like many people tend to do in times like these, I made a stop at a Starbucks on my way to work. Oddly enough, and a somewhat unrelated point, but I remember a time when stopping at a Starbucks on one's way to work took some additional planning. Not anymore. If you can't stop conveniently at a Starbucks for a $6 cup of coffee, you need a new job apparently.

But as I walk in there, I'm confronted by several things. It was a myriad of sites, sounds, and smells the likes of which you don't tend to run across on a regular basis. As I enter, I'm about 3 deep in a line, and I'm looking at the people working the counter, all of whom look like extras that walked right off the set of a Fallout Boy or Avril Lavigne video. To sum up, somewhat androgynous in gender by both appearance such as eyeliner and shaggy hair spiked and manipulated in complex ways. As well as in name, such as Morgan, Tyler, or Kris. Clearly not the time to say "How you guys doing this morning?" But make no mistake, all of them were nice and polite as the day is long.

What next caught my attention is the generic form of a person that tends to bare the brunt of a good deal of jokes...at least my jokes. I hear the door open and close behind me, and without turning around, it's clear that a woman (or women) have just come in. How? Because through the thick and robust aroma of worldly coffee, I can smell them. And in this case, smell them means I can smell the make-up they are wearing due to the amount they have on. Their perfume is noticeable as well, but when the smell of foundation is prevalent over your perfume, somethings not all together right about that. And the real kicker is, these woman are by no means right behind me. Oh no, they are a good 4 people back, putting them roughly 10-12 feet away.

But that's not all...

What really cracks me up, is the rest of the clothing. The fact of the matter is it's the same on each of them. Invariably it consists of these things; running pants, break aways, or sweats- anything you would lounge around and be comfortable in that these people would ordinarily not be caught dead in even within the confines of their own home. On occasion, pajama pants borrowed from their 13 year-old daughter. Some manner of top of the line t-shirt that looks like you would workout in it, if you would ever condescend to sweat. Of course you don't sweat in this shirt, it's made by DKNY and sweat would cause it to spontaneously combust. Flip flops. Always flip flops. The previously mentioned 30 plus minutes of make-up which, if you're keeping track, is only there to compliment a pressed and hung version of what she wore to bed the previous night. And the hair all did up. Sometimes you get really luck and see them with the hair all did up and still under a hat. That's the best combination.

So as I move through the line, inching ever closer to the register, and what I've come to understand is that if the people in line before me haven't decided what they want in the half hour it took to get to the register, I should be allowed to kill them. Be that as it may, I order my coffee from Fallout Boy while fighting the overwhelming combination of smells emanating from the Desperate Housewives behind me.

Here's the interesting part; there is no where else in the WORLD that these two groups of people could come together to coordinate on a task. To pass each other in the world, someone would sneer "What in the world are they wearing" while the others would complain about their "despicable attempts at social conformity. To see these two groups interact earnestly anywhere else would most certainly cause the space-time continuum to collapse upon itself, the world would stop spinning and fall from it's axis, cats and dogs would marry and live together, and who knows what else?

Standing in line marveling at my revelation, dressed in my polo shirt and khaki pants, all I could possibly conclude is that I am neither pretty enough, nor weird enough to be here. Guess I'm sticking to UDF coffee from now on.

Top 5 Reasons Vick Will Never Play Again

2007-08-21T06:03:00.000-07:00

With the host of information that has swallowed Michael Vick in the past 3 months, you would have to be blind and deaf while living under a rock in a dark cave somewhere not to know what's going on. But in case someone out there doesn't know what's going on, here's the scenario; the man's in a whole host of trouble for his involvement of illegal dog fighting. That's the Reader's Digest version, and the rest of the charges surrounding him only make his situation worse.

You can ask people all through the sports reporting world what is going to happen to Vick in the future. After all, he is looking at a 12-18 prison sentence for starters. The presiding judge, however, has the right to give him up to 5 years for his transgressions. Now keep in mind, this man risked up to 5 years in prison to gamble on illegal activities. Vick is the first man in the history of the NFL to sign a 9 figure contract making him the "Hundred Million Dollar Man". And while what has happened off the field has made me nearly ill both as a dog lover and a human being, he is an absolutely electrifying athlete. The man is lightning fast with a cannon for an arm. And if you've never seen a Falcons game, that's really too bad because chances are, you're never going to see him play again...ever. Here's the top 5 reasons why.

5. Time now: Vick has not been in training camp with the Falcons for some time now at the request of the NFL. His plea will not be entered officially until the 27th. So chances are he won't start serving time until when? Probably after the first of the year. And if the NFL wouldn't let him in training camp with the allegations, they certainly won't let him play after entering a guilty plea.

4. Time removed: To take the snaps for a team requires a certain feel and understanding. There is a reason that quarterbacks take 5,000 practice snaps in camp. After a while of not doing so, the muscle memory breaks down. So this season is spent, he'll likely be serving his sentence through a good part of next season, and lest we forget Commissioner Goddel is going to have his say about all this once the government has their time served. If Pacman Jones got a season suspension for all his exploits, you can probably expect that Vick will get at least another season taken away from him by the commission, if not more, for a federal conviction. He'll have a tall order before him to get back to playing technique.

3. Incoming class: As time goes on, up an comers have shown that they are vastly superior physically to where incoming players were say, 10 years ago. With the passing of time, players are becoming more impressive as physical specimens in a shorter amount of time. Therefore, by the time he gets back on the field, there are likely to be a great number of players who can replace him. (That idea of replacement will revisit us with the number 1 reason)

2. Leadership: It has been speculated that if Vick was clearly in on the dog fighting, what other activities is he involved in that come along with such a criminal element? The fact of the matter is that a quarterback needs to be the leader. He is the face of the team in good times and in bad, in successes and in failures, on and off the field. I can't imagine a team in the league that's going to welcome him into their organization to lead anyone anywhere.

1. He's not that good anyway: Someone somewhere is conducting hate mail to me right now. But think about it; Vick is a stunning, groundbreaking, and electrifying athlete. That doesn't mean he's a great quarterback. Consider what a quarterback does; read the defense, organize your team to manipulate or exploit that defense, deliver the ball, among other things. Does Vick do that? Maybe a little. He can exploit the defense when the pocket collapses with his legs, but not usually prior to the snap like Manning. He can throw the ball a mile, but it's not what you might call accurate, like Palmer. He's not a cool under pressure as Brady. Strictly from an athletic standpoint, none of these 3 quarterbacks are nearly the athlete that Vick is. But Vick will never be the quarterback that these guys are. As new crops of players evolve and enter the league, you can bet that it's the Palmers, Mannings, and Brady's that they will be taught to emulate.

Atlanta thought Vick was the future. A new breed of quarterback. But consider the last time Atlanta was in a Superbowl. Does anyone else remember Chris Chandler and and Jamaal Anserson? No one has thought of them since they day that Superbowl was played. Vick didn't deliver them a championship in spite of his athleticism. It's kind of an "If it ain't broke don't fix it" scenario. But the days of entertainment, flashy and stunning sprints from the pocket, and super tight spirals from the left hand of Atlanta's #7 are probably done for.

Buccaneer Crew

2007-05-30T06:29:00.000-07:00

Recently, my fiancée and I had the good fortune of being the recipients of her company's Red's tickets. At 10.5 games out of first place at the time, I suppose good fortune is something that could be debated. But the seats were fantastic at 3 rows behind the visiting dugout. All of a sudden security is a lot stricter about where you sit, your seats are all wiped off for you when ever you get up, and these men who were once only inches tall when sitting in the upper decks are now huge...and they can hear what you have to say.

We arrived at 5 pm, though the game didn't start until 7:10. If you've never done this before, try it just once, because that early before a game is when the teams take batting practice. Some of the field is still covered in a tarp, and there are screens at various intervals to protect the guys from sharply hit balls. But it's a lot of fun to watch. More over, you can really watch the players enjoy what it is they're doing. They're laughing, joking, poking fun at one another, and showing that this is still a game.

What really impressed us though, was the entire Pirates organization. After batting practice and before the game starts, most of the time teams will line up along which ever baseline their dugout is behind, walk up to the rail, and start signing autographs. With 2 minutes left before the first pitch was to be thrown, all the Pirates were still at the rail with rally caps on or a ball glove on their head vigorously working to make sure as many people got signatures as was humanly possible.As the game went on, there was more of the same. Every time they switched sides, the Pirates came into the dugout tossing into the stands the ball that recorded the last out. At least once and inning, often twice, a player's head would pop up, and another ball would be tossed into the crowd. Sometimes it would have a signature, sometimes not. But for the cost of a ball an inning, everyone along the dugout was captivated and excited waiting for the next chance that a keepsake might come their way.

True to form of most sporting events, there are always a few people who feel the need to act like a fool. Someone who is too drunk, too ignorant, or too disrespectful to let everyone else around them enjoy the game. I appreciate rivalry and I appreciate competition. If I didn't I wouldn't be planning my entire Saturday night around seeing a team that is way out of first place. I cheer for the teams and people I like, I talk with the people around me at how the umpire missed the call. But the person who stands up and bellows to the umpire that "He can't see anything" "he's terrible" "he's worthless" and so on with a long line of explicatives is bothersome. When he goes on to scream "go back to your hometown, everyone hates you here" followed with "everyone probably hates you there too, you should just die" again with explicatives, I actually start to get a little bit offended.

With two minutes before game time, these guys "who everyone hates" are working themselves into a frenzy making sure they do everything they can to help people in the stands enjoy themselves. They are cracking jokes, laughing, smiling, and playing the game like children... Big strong children who make a lot of money for doing what they do. But while the money has to be nice, they are truly enjoying the game.

Major league baseball has been through a lot of strife in the past year. If you're a ball player who has hit more than 40 home runs at any point in your career, you've probably been accused of steroid use. Maybe you've even been called to testify before congress. Maybe you're a first ballot Hall of Fame player who gets 22 million for deciding 7 weeks into the season that you're ready to pitch for the 24th season in a row. The game could use some damage control and some healing time. With people screaming obscenities at them, would anyone blame these guys if, in a visiting stadium these guys just stayed in the dugout the whole time? These guys need some appreciation for not just playing, but participating in the game like true ambassadors.

So How Do They Rank

2007-03-22T09:06:00.000-07:00

When it comes right down, the only people's who get to have an opinion that is nationally published in a newspaper are those at USA Today. So to call this whole thing a critical deconstruction isn't really so accurate as just a guy killing some time. But if I had to rank the events they chose in my own personal order, I think it would probably shake out something like this:

10. The downhill: Everyone could at least try it. Weather or not it goes well for them remains to be seen.
9. Running a marathon: If they said "Running a competitive time in a marathon" I might think differently. But you could train for it, and at least trot your way through it taking time to walk if you need to. I have admiration for those who do it, but I only give it a 9.

Here is where they get tricky, because in my opinion, these are so close in ranking.
8. Hitting a straight tee shot: Again, incomplete. If you keep swinging, eventually, you'll get one. Do it every single time or include the ability to bend and fade the ball, and maybe.
7. Race car driving: Dangerous, mentally challanging, and physically taxing yes. But you're still sitting down the whole time.
6.Return a serve: Yes the ball moves fast and it's small. But you have a huge surface with which to make contact with that little fuzzy thing. Take a swipe.
5. Hitting a baseball: Like in golf, keep swinging and eventually that learning curve starts to fade away. Eventually, you'll catch up to one of 'em.
4. Save a penalty kick: Total crap-shoot
3. Land a quad: Not necessarily the most exciting thing in all of sports, but it takes a nice combination of know-how and physical training.
2. Tour de France: Long ride, changing altitudes, to chase or not, is Lance coming back again? These are just some of the host of questions facing the massive field of competitors. Yes they too are sitting the whole time, but unlike race car driving, they propel themselves to breakneck speeds. Take that Tony Stewart.
1. Pole Vault: Strong like bull, flexible like gymnast, fast like sprinter. Much love.

So that's what they have to say, and what I have to say about it. But now on a similar note, allow me to present the things that I think are going to be the hardest to achieve in the realm that is pro sports. Or I guess maybe semi-pro and on your way to being pro.

10. Pitch a perfect game: This is a feat so difficult that less than a handful of guys have ever done it. Maybe 5 or 6 in history? Not only do you have to pitch extraordinarily well, but your catcher has to be on his best game, and chances are someone is still going to his the ball at some point. Throwing 9 innings to 27 batters and 81 consecutive strikes would be pretty cool. But it's far more likely someone is going to put the ball in play. So now you enlist the help of the other 8 lads on the field.

9. Run a sub 4.0 40.: In the wide world of sports, speed is always an asset. It never seems to matter what game you are playing. If you can throw faster, move faster, jump faster, drive faster, or in this case run faster, you are a stronger candidate for regards as a better player. More money comes in. You're more famous. So on and so forth. A respectable time in a 40 yard dash is in the mid 4 second range. At this years NFL combine, the top wide receivers ran around 4.3 seconds. That's pretty fast. But there are a rare few people in the world that can cover the same distance in less than 4 seconds. Granted .5 seconds is not a great deal of time. But when we are talking about only 4 seconds or so to start, you're talking about shaving almost 10% off your time. If you were driving 10 hours and made it in 9, I'd say you did well for yourself.

8. Ride an AMA Superbike: Yeah you're sitting down, but there is nothing to protect you from the ground which is incidentally buzzing past you at 150+ mph aside from a helmet. But you are manipulating a 300 pound vehicle requiring you to use both hands and both feet and inconsistant intervals and all in different capacities. A miscue would be disasterous. These guys walk the track to study turns so intensely it would give you a headache. Why? Because at 160 and shifting gears you're in an out of a turn before you can really assess what it is you need to do in order to maintain maximum speed. That ought to make the average joe's eyes bug out a bit.

7. The Ironman: Let's take 112 miles away from the Tour and add it to the Boston Marathon. But before we do those things in consecutive order, let's go ahead and swim 2.4 miles in the open ocean. Oh by the way, we'll also be doing these things under the sun of Hawaii.

6. Tour de France: I totally agree that they original authors got this one right on the money. Now if we can just do something about the annoyed frenchmen who want to whine about steroid use because they can't win their own race. I got you back Floyd.

5. 1-Arm Rewind Cupid: In the insanity that was my collegiate youth, I did have a go at cheerleading. Probably just about the hardest thing I've ever done physically and mentally. A one are rewind cupid means the following: A guy puts one hand in the middle of his sutnt partner's back with her arms down at her sides. She dips to jump and begins to do what looks like a back tuck. When she goes horizontal, the guy uses every muscle in his body to push straight up as hard as possible, allowing her to complete her tuck. Now here's where it gets tricky. She completes her rotation landing with both feet in one hand, incidentally the hand attached to the same arm with which her threw her, above the guy's head. So to review, she goes from standing on the ground, to standing in a guy's hand with her feet being about seven to eight feet off the ground. Oh yeah, there was a flip in there too. A number of physical things have to happen in precise order. But to that, add this; A guy has to say "Hey, let me toss you over my head going upside down and catching you in one hand over my head. Oh yeah, and we're on a hardwood basketball floor in front of 15,000 screaming people." And then the girl has to say "Yeah sure...let's do that."

4. Win the America's Cup: Here's a sport where we are going to put a bunch of guys on a large yacht and cast them off. All of them have to work in perfect order doing a number of things in very specific intervals of time to make the boat go where they want in spite of the ever changing, unrelenting, and unforgiving ocean. Jack Sparrow has nothing on these guys.

3. Pole Vault: Have to agree with the pros on this one again.

T-1. Break the Streak: People always think their records will stand for all time. Well maybe they don't think that, but they'd like too. Shaun Alexander broke and held the single season record for touchdowns just to have Ladanian Tomlinson break it a year later. Barroid Bonds is probably going to catch Hank Aaron, but in doing the math, it took about 30 years. But referred to simply as "The Streak", Cal Ripken played in a record 2,131 consecutive games. Actually, 2,131 simply broke the old streak. His number continued to climb there after. The first game in of his streak was in May of '82, and it wasn't until September of '95 that he his 2,131. That's 13 years at over 100 games a season never missing a game. The man played hurt, sick, tired, on and on. Now a days guys are getting days off "just because".

T-1. Start, play, and finish your career in 1 city: So this is more of a philosophical goal than anything else. But this just doesn't really happen anymore. There are a select few in history that have done so. But even the Ironman Brett Favre got his start in Atlanta, even though Greenbay gave him his home. With the inflating salaries, more inflated egos, agressive agents, salary caps, and free agency all being what they are, it's just does happen very often.

I'm out.

Hardest Things in Sports: Part 2

2007-03-21T12:44:00.000-07:00

4. Hitting a long, straight tee shot.
What they say: "Driving a ball seems to be an easy thing until you try it..."
What I say: Excellent point there. It's not a easy thing. But it would have been a bit more appropriate to say "hit a long tee shot that lands in front of you". Most players who are going to distance will play draw or fade, so by it's very nature, it will not travel straight the whole time. But that's not the point. Yes it's wicked hard. But is it harder than trying to bend a ball around a clump of trees at Pinehurst? Or to play through the winds at St. Andrews? I'm not really sure. I agree driving can be hard, but this almost seems to be too specific.

3. Pole Vaulting
What they say: "Vaulting is a case of redirecting the kenetic energy of the runner's approach upward."
What I say: You have to be strong like bull to pull this off. Fast too. While we're at it, let's add flexible, agile, and just a little bit outside your mind. Props.

2. Race car driving:
What they say: "...rounding the corners is the equivalent of having a 300 pound linebacker push on you for the 3-4 hours it takes to complete a race."
What I say: I say you're siting down the whole time. But there is the redeeming factor of risking death on a regular basis, and perhaps due to no fault of your own. It takes some serious courage yes, but I don't think I could rank it as the second hardest thing to do in the wide world of sports.

And the gold medalist...

1. Hitting a baseball.
What they say: "...reaching speeds of 95 mph, a batter has .4 seconds to track it, decide to swing, and make contact."
What I say: Yes and no. I am a baseball freak. I love it to death. Here is the counter arguement; There's a short learning curve. Put someone on the mound and have them throw 10 straight fastballs, 10 curves, and 10 change-ups against a run of the mill athlete, but not necessarily a baseball player. Let him see and swing at the pitches, and eventually, he's going to find the timing and at least make contact. Now start mixing the pitches on the guy and he hits how many? Two or three out of ten? Yes you are hitting a round object with a round device. And I'm the first to bail out on a good curve. But even still, 3/10 makes a .300 batting average. A .300 average for a career will likely get you a second ballot trip to Cooperstown. Like hitting the golf ball; deceptively hard, but not necessarily #1.

Hardest Things in Sports: Part 1

2007-03-21T11:16:00.000-07:00

There is a section in the USA Today newspaper that has always listed the 10 hardest things to do in sports. I will offer the disclaimer that I am neither a world class athelte, nor am I a journalist. But I was intrigued to offer not only what they had to say, and poke some fun while I am at it, but what I think those things might be.

Here they are:
10. Ski the downhill.
What they say: "It's an exercise in balance and control at 80 mph. Blah blah blah... They fight gravitational and centrifugal forces at every stage in the race."
What I say: Yeah it's a cool thing to do, but what is interesting is that the people who have the insance wipeouts are often more remembered, at least in the activity if not in name, then who ever won. In some cases, more so. Can anyone tell me who won the Women's Downhill in Turino? Yeah me neither. But I know Lindsey Jacobellis got recognized for a nasty wipeout breaking bones in her face. God bless her for coming back and finishing the racing inspite of her injuries. I'll raise a glass to that anytime. But a nasty spill that may be remembered as vividly or more so than who won can be done by anyone. If anyone can do it, it ain't all that.

9. Save a penalty kick.
What they say: "...a goal is 24 feet wide and 8 feet high-192 square feet, in which to put a ball that is 9 inches in diameter. The goalie has around .25 seconds to stop a ball often moving in excess of 60 mph."
What I say: A good point there. Soccer is impressive enough to me in so far as no one but the poor fool who has to stand before the 60+ mph shot can use their hands. But don't get it twisted here. Anyone who has watched soccer has seen a goalie dive in complete opposite way the ball is kicked. Pansy. No seriously, anyone who plays will tell you that the goalie takes a guess before the ball is struck. If they guess right, they stop it, if not, they look like an ass. Props for standing there, especially with no pads. But your success is not so much reliant upon sick skills, but an educated guess at best. A world class striker is supposed to beat a world class goalie better than 95% of the time. What that means is goalies are not expected to stop the shot. Get shot on 5 times and stop one, you're the man. But get shot on 5 times and not stop one, better luck next time. Gotta take a pass.

8. Tour de France.
What they say: "...2,500 miles in three weeks... sustained speeds of 30+ mph...15% grades"
What I say: When I was a child, I rode my bike religiously. Not having done in a number of years, I tried to do it on a regular basis in my mid 20's and realized why I was in such great shape as a kid. This required training, and agressive training at that, that is a year round ordeal. I can't think of a great number of sports that require 5-6 hours of training a day, every single day, and then maybe you get to wear the yellow jersey... excuse me le maillot jeune...for an afternoon? And that's assuming Lance doesn't want to do another comeback. Well done lads.

7. Running a marathon.
What they say: "A 26.2 mile race is physically demanding mentally and physically... have to be a well conditioned athlete...blah blah blah."
What I say: It's not as cool as the Tour in my opinion, so I don't really want to give this the props is probably deserves, but it can't be easy. It take am extraordinary amount of training, and is terribly taxing on your knees, shins, ankles, lower back, and so on. The only problem I have with this is that running so much on hard surfaces can do a lot of long term damage to a number of body parts. Of course so does the NFL. Then again, marathoners aren't making NFL cash, and the NFL is no where on the USA Today list. This one is TBD.

6. Landing a quad.
What they say: "During a sucessful quad jump, the skater will be as high as 18 inches in the air and experiences 300 pounds of centrifugal force."
What I say: Cool. What is with these people and centrifugal force? Didn't we talk about that with the skiing too? Seriously, I am certainly impressed. But years back, a tripple was unheard of. When people start working on a quint, they will talk about how a quad was insane. I guess that's probably true of all sports. But this one just doesn't make me go "wow".

5. Returning a serve.
What they say: "... ball moving at 130 mph of 185 feet per second...the returner has about half a second to react."
What I say: Ah yes, some pove for one of my favorite sports. Incidentally, the ball now travels in excess of the 150 mark and is showing no signs of slowing down. 130 has some zip on it though, and make have a multitude of spins and locations. It hardly seems practical to say, but in the next 10 or so years a serve coming across the net in the 170 range doesn't seem impossible. Bravo.

The Games of the Olympiad

2006-02-19T09:52:00.000-08:00

Every 4 years, the sporting world as we know it takes a small hiatus from the overindulgence and excess that goes hand in hand with multi-million dollar contracts and endorsements to recognize the amateur ranks and it's respective superstars. I love the Olympics. I'm a little more interested in the summer games than winter, but never the less, I love them. I'll get home, clean my apartment, do some laundry, cook some dinner, work out, and what ever else all the while with the Games on T.V. in the background. Sometimes it's just ambiant sound, and sometimes I'm totally enthralled by what's going on.

It's a relief to me to see people compete in this way. I suppose I feel that a lot of athletes are often overpaid and yes, it bothers me a bit when someone who has been signed to a hundred-million dollar basketball contract argues that the NBA should allow a clothing stipended due to a dress code policy. But I don't all together mind the idea of MLB players making a few million a season. That goes for the NBA, NHL, and so on as well. These people have worked hard to become the athletes they are, and they give a lot of time to their occupations. It may be more fun than your regular 9-5 job, but still, it's time that they are required to be somewhere other than where they may choose, and it's time that they are not spending with family or friends. But the purity of the Olympics is amazing. You win? No money. You loose? No money...and you suck. No salaries, no agents, all country, all pride.

If you flipped the channels you probably didn't watch curling. You've all heard of it. That's where they push the big rock with a handle down the ice and people sweep the ice in front to guide the stone into place on a target or to hit another teams stone. Cassie Johnson at 24 is the captain of the U.S. women's team and this is only her first Olympics. "I have confidence in every member of my team" she says. "I want to be a PART of the last shot weather throwing or sweeping."

Or maybe you saw Lindsey Kildow finish 8th in her downhill run in the medal round and though "Damn...lost another medal." But who knows that the day before she took a spill requiring her to be airlifted off the mountain and spend the night in the ER? No excuses did she offer. Not for falling, or finsihing 8th. Just a promise to be back in 2010.

Then I have to turn on the news and see this...

Bode Miller and Lindsey Jaconbellis. These are two of the brightest stars the U.S. has to offer in their respective fields. Now for those who don't keep an eye on ESPN or the nightly sports report on the news, Bode Miller is the ski-whiz that was supposed to anchor the U.S. ski team and be the best shot for gold. And this God-given waste of talent goes on T.V. several times over, admitting to skiing while stoned, and furthermore, he promotes the idea of doing it. He goes to Torino, and in his first of 5 events, finishes out of medal contention. His second event, the conbined downhill, he come in 4th, and then turns in a gold medal winning time in the second event only be disqualified for having missed a gate. I don't condone the idea of using drugs, but to each his own. I'm not his momma. But the idea of seeing nothing wrong with getting high and then going skiing at 60 plus miles per hour, not to mention promoting trying it, might be just a tad on the irresponsible side. You come in 6th in your first event, maybe nerves got to you. You still did better than I would have done. You get booted from your second event for a mental and technical error, that's a shame but I guess it happens. But when your response to the camera is scoffing "So what? All that means is I don't have to go down to Torino tomorrow for the medal ceremony" you really have done yourself no justice. And now this guy is going to represent the country in 3 more events?

Smoke more weed Bode...seriously...smoke more weed.

Lindsey Jacobellis is a rising star on a snowboard. With the addition of Snowboard Cross racing in the Olympics, she proved that she was the one to beat in the 4 person, downhill obsitcle course. With a substantial lead in the gold medal race she needed to do was stay on her feet, win the gold, and collect the medal. Instead, she decides to hot-dog on of the final jumps, wipe out, surrender a nearly 20 second lead, and cross the finish line to take the silver. A 20 second lead she gave up. In a race that is measures tenths and hundreths of seconds as significant amounts of time, 20 seconds is roughly a half hour! And her response? "Oh no I really wasn't trying to show off" and "no I don't really get disappointed about loosing."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! Are people really so stuck on the idea that there is no money or bonuses or concessions on the line that they really don't care if they win or loose in the biggest sports forum that exists or ever existed?

No contrition for the mental errors. No apologies for sounding foolish while representing their country. No remourse for suggesting that people should strap skis to their bodies and bomb down a hill under the influence of a controlled substance. No concern for disappointing coaches, families, teammates, fans, or anyone else who believed in them and sacraficed anything at all to help them get to the grandest stage in the world and watch their efforts fall short.

And in an athletic courtroom of public opinion, this is the best that the U.S. has to offer?

Worst Checkpoint EVER!

2005-12-13T09:23:00.000-08:00

Once upon a couple months ago, I was making my way east to meet up with a friend of mine in order to venture out on a vacation.

Scott is a good friend and fraternity brother, and he had invited me to join him on a trip to Myrtle Beach. Living in Chesapeake Ohio, the closest major town to him is Huntington West Virgina. I arrived late in the evening on Friday and was greeted warmly by a friend that while we correspond several times a month, we had not seen one another in at least a year. He introduced me to his most recent lady friend who was going to join us for dinner that evening, and off we went to eat and catch up.

Dinner was so-so, but the food wasn't really the goal that night. We were catching up on the past year between my work and his graduate work. All the while, it had escaped our attention that his date had been casually knocking back Grey Goose martinis as though they were water. I know that's some smooth vodka, but she must have knocked back at least 3, rounding the corner on 4 before we realized how much she'd had, not to mention how much it was going to cost.

We settle the bill, and leave. But weighing in at a mere 115 pounds and having knocked back a good deal of reasonably strong vodka, Sarah was in no condition what so ever to drive. Not a big deal. Scott was in fine form, not having had anything to drink that night, or for that matter, any night prior. So she happily surrendered her keys, and we went on about our way.

About 10 minutes later with laughter and music blairing, not to mention Sarah truly enjoying the height of her alcoholic daze, we arrive at what looks like the scene of an accident. I have no idea how many police cars and corresponding officers were on sight, but I quit counting the cars at 13, moved on to the officers on site, and stopped counting them right around 25. No accident, no 1-8-7, nothing like that. In fact it was the largest, brightest sobriety checkpoint I had ever seen.

As Sarah was wasted, we were trying to get her under some kind of control. Not that it made a huge difference as she was not driving, but let's not give cops with nothing to do a reason to detain all of us. Now this cop was a gold ol' boy to such a degree that I could have sworn he was whistling the Dukes of Hazzard theme through his spitting of Skoal. He leans into the car a bit, has a look around, and says to Scott "Evenin'...we're doin' a sobriety checkpoint here. You had anything to drink tonight?"

Scott casually shakes his head and says "No sir."

"You sure 'bout that?"

"Yes sir I am."

"Alright then. Have a nice night." And that was the end of it.

It took about 2 mintues of dead silence before we all errupted in laughter to such a degree that none of us could explain why we were laughing. Finally I managed to explain myself through the laughter that was so intense I was now crying. That had to be without a doubt the worst sobriety stop I have ever seen or ever will see. There was no doubt in my mind that I could have slid right through that one after knocking back a case! And you mean to tell me that in a state where there is little else to do but drink and famous last words are "Hold my beer and watch this" that it takes an entire relief of police to sit out and take someone's word as to their sobriety? So who is watching the rest of the city, keeping it safe from crime? Way to hold it down fellas.

Teach to Tip

2005-12-07T09:39:00.000-08:00

Through the course of my life it amazes me how many people can't figure out how to tip. Gratuity is a pretty common thing anymore with most service oriented businesses, and even with it's prevalance, the technique seems to escape a good deal of people. In my business, I am fairly often faced with the situation of sitting and eating with clients in a casual setting while writing a contract, negotiating terms, and so on. Rarely do I let them pay, as it seems to me to be a staple of hosting and continuing my relationship with them. But every so often, they sneak one in there, and tip a crap-ass $3 on a bill running about $28. For the record, yes that is less than 10%. I had someone do it just last weekend. It wasn't particularly bad service. It wasn't stellar five-star stuff, but our food appeared in a timely manner, the server didn't inturrput our conversation, and we were in and out in a shade over a half hour.

Alright I admit that I'm biased. When I was 20, I spent my time as a server and the ever-popular T.G.I. Fridays. On a particular Saturday night, around the 11th hour of what ended up being a 15 hour double shift, I was given the joy of seven 17 year-old teenie boppers. Shit. Anyone who has served knows that this is death. Every single one is going to want something weird about their food. "Uh yeah, like...can I have a burger...but like, instead of the burger I want chicken on it, and like...no crazy stuff on it but I totally want mustard....." and so on. "Hey why not just have a grilled chicken sandwich with only mustard on it?" "Like totally not! I don't want my chicken like, grilled or something!" and so on and so forth. They are all going to want separate checks. Not a big deal, but naturally they will make no mention of this until it's time for them to go, and they are in a hurry, and you have 4 other tables all with screaming kids. Hopefully you get the idea by now. And what really sucks, is the number. A party of 8 in most places is grounds for added gratuity. A nice number of 17 1/2% sounded just fine to me. But no, there were only 7, my manager wasn't budging on the number, and I knew that I was about to bust my hump for next to nothing.

Suck it up and press on. I make my way to the table and introduce myself, trying to hide my utter frustration. All of a sudden, one girl turns to another and very excitedly says "I told you he was going to be out waiter! I told you!" What this? Hmm...Looks like an opportunity to work the room and maybe eek some cash out of this after all. And no, for the record, I'm not too proud.

"Alright ladies, let me first ask you, is this all going to be on one check, or are we going to need them split up?" Let's just get that crap out of the way now.

"What's easiest for you?"

Sweet! "Actually, if you can put them all on one, that's a bit easier, but it doesn't make a difference to me. As long as I know in advance, I can split them up, no problem. " And one check it was. Good deal. Off to a strong start. What's more, none of them wanted anything crazy. Someone asked for a sandwich without onions, someone else wanted some extra dressing. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary that was going to make the cooks in back seek my death.

So the night is sailing along. No hiccups, no bumps, everyone is happy, these girls are flirting like none other, and I'm already counting my tip. Come to find out it's a birthday for one of the girls, so I gather all the guys in the place that night to come sing happy birthday. Then I ask them "So are you just starting out here? Or are you ending up?" They tell me they are just starting out and I ask "Where are you ending up for the rest of the evening?" The response comes back "Don't know...somewhere with you?" Now I was a bold young lad, but I never would have had to guts to put that one out there.

So the night winds down and I offer to take pictures for them, as there are 7 different cameras floating around and no one is left out. Of course not, they wanted me in the pictures. Are these kids for real? Finally I bring them the check for the damage. As luck would have it, my tip tray had on it a picture of me holding my baby sister when she was about 7 weeks old. In the spirit of being bold, several of them asked for the picture. What the hell, I had more, but that one happened to be glued to the tip tray that I really needed. No big deal. They left cash on the table, and all of them gave hugs and little pecks on the cheek before they left. Finally the time came to survey the scene.

$100 even the bill was. No cents. A simple, pure, whole, round number. Figuring and percentage of that should be a simple task. No rocket science here or brain surgery here. But as I started sifting through the money, I was rapidly approaching the bottom of a stack of fives and singles. My concern started to turn to panic when my mind grazed past the idea that there wasn't even enough here to cover the bill. I relaxed when I hit a hundred, but nearly past out to see a single, solitary five dollar bill remaining. These kids hat sat at my largest table for over an hour, I gave them very good service, brining food out quickly and never letting cups sit empty, and in short, did everything I possibly could to give them what ever they wanted it. Five bucks.

My bus boys were so fired up that they were willing to go out into the parking lot and bring them all back in. Much love for feeling my pain, but I couldn't allow that. So I pulled out a chair, had myself a seat, and just caught my breath.

So there's my long and hopefully funny story. And I always thought that for some time, knowing how to leave an appropriate tip has been an important aspect of social life. I guess others don't agree.

Cheerleading and Such

2005-11-29T13:26:00.000-08:00

When I was in college, I was afforded a rare and unlikely opportunity. I got into cheerleading. Now, I know what everyone out there in cyberspace is thinking; "this guy has to be gay". And I can understand that. After all, that is a pretty common nomenclature associated with male cheerleaders. But in all honesty, it was the hardest thing I ever tried to do in my life. I was never so sore, or so injured, or so tired as I was after having a practice or cheering a game.

When I graduated, naturally, I wanted to stay involved on some level with some team somewhere. It was in my blood now and nothing else I had ever undertaken was nearly as challanging. As luck would have it, I managed to get in with a local area high school as a slot opened up for a coach. I was met with dubious looks from faculty, staff, and parents but was chosen due primarily to my experience.

When I met the girls and found out what their regiments of practice and training entailed, I was annoyed to say the least. It was no fault of the students, and ultimately, it wasn't really even the fault of the coaches. But "coach" was not the term that best fit the situation. The would- be coaches were really more of advisors. They were teachers in the district that had been cheerleaders once upon a time at some level, primarily high school, so they brought little to the table as far as new skills. All they knew was what they learned years ago, and even that was hazy. Once again, not their fault, but like playing a game of telephone, the information becomes more and more garbled. What was really unfortunate, is that the girls weren't allowed to stunt, except at non-conference games and events. By stunt I mean pyramids, basket tosses, or if we had any guys at our disposal, even a little one on one partner stunts. So while not only were the girls ground bound, but few of them had any idea how to tumble and once again the current coaches were not at all equipped to teach such skills. My outlook on cheerleaders always was that they were most definately athletes, and my time on a team strongly reaffirmed that. But prohibiting stunts and the inability to teach tumbling confines cheerleaders to the prehistoric stereotype of jumping up and down on the sidelines and yelling with no other purpose. And if that's all you're doing, I got news; you're not an athlete anymore.

Here's the rub; in my cheerleading career, I broke my nose 3 times, took 15 stitches, had more bruises then I care to remember, and usually had a sore or pulled something or other. I broken nose, all stitches, and a lot of pulled or sore muscles came from the tumbing, not the stunting. The injuries that I befell from stunts came from me trying silly garbage or move that were entirely to advanced for me at the time and were usually preceeded by the phrase "hey watch this". The point is this that tumbling is every single inch as dangerous as stunting for all parties concerned. You risk injury every single time you make a tumbling pass. So why is it that tumbling is a fine and well an good?

Odd analogy time; cheering is like a gun. Injuries or even death come when there is no respect and overwhelming curiosity. I have had friends that have had loaded and accessible firearms in their houses their entire lives and never once had any safety issues. There was never any curiosity, and there was always respect for something so potentially dangerous. Stunts and tumbling can be sorted into a similar, but more generic vein because as curious as participants are, they will never be taught the proper, entertaining, and safe way to do any of these things. It's sad. It is sad to me that because would-be coaches are so unfamiliar, incapable, or so far removed from these activites that they can no longer teach, future generations will not learn. And because they will not learn, they miss a huge amount of the fun, excitement, work, and reward that cheering has to offer.

Cutting the Last String

2005-11-22T13:23:00.000-08:00

If you are a young child, either young in years or young at heart, you may not want to read any futher. In fact, I would encourage you not to read any more because I am going to speak of Santa now, and well...you may not like it.

Once upon about 13 or so years ago, I sat before a smoldering fire late in the evening with my mother on a peaceful Christmas Eve. We sat, talking of things that didn't really matter and memories of Christmases past, people we missed, friends we were looking forward to seeing, and such. And as the embers began to fade, I became particularly aware of how tired I was.

I was 12 years old, and though I had been sheltered from a number of youthful exploits, but I had little question in my mind that Santa was a figment of youthful imagination. I always have considered Santa to be a real idea, even now at 25. And people can surmise a great deal of comfort, or enjoyment, or anything else they see fit for their own piece of mind. I don't ever want to loose the mysticism or gain the skepticism that would lead me to loose sight of that idea, spirit, or what ever you choose to call it. But on this night, all youthful delusions would be wiped out.

As instinct or maybe reflex would have it, I turn to my mother before I headed up to bed and said "well, do you think I should leave some food out for Santa this year?" And she turns to me as plainly as a person ever could and says "Aw hell I don't know...do I have to eat it this year?" The room fell silent until we errupted into laughter. We laughed because it was funny. We laughed because it was true. We laughed because we knew that we had been mutually humoring one another for several seasons now. We laughed until it wasn't funny anymore, and then laughed some more because we were still laughing at something that was no longer that funny.

And even now, more than a dozen years later, I can't help but giggle at the abrupt ending to every child's holiday understandings.

Thanksgiving Stuff

2005-11-21T08:53:00.000-08:00

I don't want to get into writing all kinds of sappy this and that about time that I remember when I was a child. About times that I traced my hand with a crayon and colored it in to look like a turkey. About time that my family sat together and shared things that we were all thankful for. There has always been an alternative reason that makes this holiday my favorite.

There are various religions that find reasons to celebrate events in their histories. Many celebrate different ways. Some may choose to recognize and not formally celebrate at all. I think it's safe to say that Christmas is a front-running holiday when it comes to recognition. By that I mean other religions know what it is or at least that it exists. The Jewish faith has their celebrations, Asian religions may embrace the Tete holiday. We may find people that connect with the the nature of the Ramadan. I think that it is a safer bet still that we could find such people living through out the United States.

What I love about Thanksgiving though, is that it is blind to such circumstances. There is no religion or set of beliefs to which one must subscribe. You could believe in the birth of Christ, Buddah, Muhammad, or what ever gives you comfort. Hell, go outside and worship a maple tree if it suits you. But anyone who chooses to do so may recognize Thanksgiving without the cognative dissonance (you know, that nasty feeling in your gut when something just doesn't feel right?) of separating one's self from one's beliefs.