my own worst enemy

It's official!

2008-03-10T07:35:00.000-07:00

AniMal and Lizett tied the knot, and here's the video to prove it. This video was provided by an eye-witness so you, too, might believe.

Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Schreiber!

Pictures are available HERE.

A funny thing happened on the way to the polling place...

2008-02-05T10:54:00.000-08:00

I saw this:

I don't think that guy's going to forget that his friends are jerks. And awesome at the same time.

Seriously, that's some dedication. The even put stickies on the grill!

Goats do Roam

2008-01-17T14:02:00.000-08:00

The post's title, while being a brand of red wine that's quite good, is also a valid motto for my ambulatory habitation patterns during 2007. I traveled a lot last year. A LOT. I did a quick rundown on my calendar and counted 13 round-trip flights last year and 69 days away from my home during them. That's averaging a flight every 4th weekend and being gone one out of every five days. And that doesn't even include any road trips I might have taken (of which there were a few).

Here's how the flights break down by the numbers:

13 total round-trip flights
8 flights to visit Ginger
4 flights that were work related
4 flights to visit family
1 flight for a wedding
10 days out of the country

I haven't bothered to tally up the total expenses or the frequent flyer miles, but I'm sure the numbers are staggering. Hopefully there will be some free flights in the near future, especially with all the weddings coming up. This year is shaping up to be quite similar -- one flight already logged with two planned for February, one in March, and one in May. I haven't even started looking at football season yet.

Keeping up with the Cardassians

2008-01-02T23:07:00.000-08:00

I'm walking back to work after lunch today with my coworkers and one of them is debating what new car to buy. She's debating between Toyota and Lexus SUVs. My other coworker points out a Mazda RX-72 ZC (or some other stupid combination of letters and numbers) and says "How about that one? That's what the Cardassians drive." I swear to God I thought he was talking about the alien race on Star Trek that have big thumb-prints in their foreheads. I busted up laughing because it seemed absurd for a Cardassian to be driving a Mazda SUV. Where were the cannons for shooting up Bajorans?

My quickly figured out what I thought they said and started laughing at me. Turns out there's some reality TV show called "Keeping up with the Kardashians" where they just follow some family around. Now, I read a lot of useless shit on the internet everyday and watch my fair share of television, all for the sake of keeping up with pop culture, but I have never even heard of this show. Apparently I'm supposed to know all about this show which, from what I gather, is about some bimbo and her family. What the deuce is going on?

Childhood dreams

2007-12-21T08:50:00.000-08:00

I was chatting online with Jism the other day and she said, "I wish I still had my childhood imagination." What ever happened to us that we no longer have great dreams and fantasies (no those kind, sick-o). And for the matter, what ever happened to predictability? The milk-man, the paper-boy, even TV?

Jism's question reminded me of a lecture I watched online earlier this year that I meant to share on my blog. It's entitled "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams" and it was given by Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon. he gave it as part of a lecture series titled "Last Lecture" whose theme was "What would you speak about if you could only give one last lecture?" Turns out Randy has terminal cancer and this probably is his last lecture.

You can check it out here: http://cmu.edu/uls/journeys/randy-pausch/index.html. Be warned, it's an hour and half long, but totally worth it. You'll laugh, you'll cry.

So I got to thinking about my childhood dreams, and here's what I could remember:

Driving a Mustang or other muscle car
Improving the efficiency of solar cells
Being an astronaut
Being a veterinarian
Playing basketball for the University of Louisville
Owning a large plot of land in Kentucky and keeping it from being developed
Having a horse farm
Sailing the Mediterranean
Performing with the Future of Corps

To be honest, I'm not doing too shabby on those so far. Some will never come to fruition (astronaut, vet, basketball), but I'm okay with that. There's still a lot of time for the others, and substitutions can be made for some.

What were your childhood dreams? How are you doing so far?

My friends think I'm a lush

2007-12-15T16:30:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure that even though I look like this:

my friends look at me and see this:

"Why?" you ask. I have participate in a handful of Secret Santa gift exchanges in my day
and every time I have received something related to alcohol. First year: a Notre Dame beer mug. Second year: frosted Budweiser pilsner glasses. Third year: homer Simpson monster mug. And this year was no different. What did I receive? A Sierra Nevada pint glass, a 12-pack of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale, and a mini putting green with six shot glasses designed to be a drinking game.

The only other common factor in all the gift exchanges was Pangle. So I'm putting the blame for my lush image squarely on her. Curse you, Pangle. Curse you.

Curse these dollar coins

2007-12-07T17:52:00.000-08:00

All I want is a Dr. Pepper from the vending machine. It only takes dollar bills and non-dollar coins, and all I have is you, new golden dollar coin. Sure, you bear the visage of our nation's first (and possibly greatest) president, but you do him a disservice. You are not great, golden dollar coin. You aren't accepted by vending machines. Parking meters will not accept you. Even cashiers at stores look at me when I try to pass you off as legal tender. And to top it all off, you represent the base amount of a currency that is in the tanks right now. You, coin, suck at life.

Skype!

2007-11-28T22:44:00.000-08:00

If you haven't discovered Skype yet, you are living in the Dark Ages my friend. "What is Skype?"
you ask. Well, let me educate you, caveman. Stop looking at those shadows on the wall and come see the light. Skype is a free internet service that allows you to make video calls to your friends anywhere in the world. "But Goat, I already do that with AIM or Yahoo Messenger." Yeah, Ginger and I were using Yahoo but it didn't have audio, and it didn't let you go full screen on the video. iChat and AIM weren't compatible with Ginger's webcam. And then came Skype, fulfilling our video teleconferencing (VTC, to you non-engineers) dreams.

If you have a webcam already, go download Skype now (http://www.skype.com). If you don't have a webcam, get in your car and drive to Best Buy and shell out the $30 for the cheapest one. And when you get it all set up you can call me. My username is "TheNDGoat".

Tone-tastic!

2007-11-19T18:09:00.000-08:00

There have been several developing stories amongst my fellow Tones as of late, and I figure it's time to report them to you, my loyal readers. *crickets chirping*

Okay, this one I've been waiting like two weeks to tell y'all about so I wouldn't be stealing his thunder. But seeing as how he finally announced it to everyone today...

Cahk is getting married!!

That's right, Rooster and Christine are officially engaged. He popped the question the last weekend in October. I got a call from him the next week asking me to be one of his groomsmen, which is super-sweet. This is the first wedding I've been asked to be in the wedding party since I was ring-bearer at a couple of my cousins' weddings. I don't know yet who else is in the wedding party besides his buddy Hen, but I can already tell it's going to be a hell of a good time. Between Rooster and Animal's weddings, I'm going to make up for not going to ND once this fall. Pack your drinking pants, folks.

Also in the world of Tones, we made contact with da BooBoo thanks to a fortuitous email mishap. Turns out Malibu is married now and living happily with the wife in Cincinatti. Sure, it's no Steubenville ("DON'T CALL IT STUPID-VILLE!"), but I guess it works. Congrats, BooBoo!

Take Two

2007-11-12T12:46:00.000-08:00

Pangle introduced me to a sweet new game a while back called Take Two. Admittedly, Matty GP introduced her to it -- it was a game he and his 12 siblings played as kids. It cheap, easy to learn, and addicting as hell. Here's how you play:

What you need:

A set of Scrabble tiles (just the tiles, no board)
A flat playing surface, preferably a large table

How to play:

Start by laying all the tiles face down in the middle of the playing surface. Mix up the letters. Each player selects 7 tiles and places them face-down in the palm of their hand (don't look!). When each player has their tiles in hand, someone says "Go!" and everyone flips their hand over onto the table so the tiles are now face up.

I actually picked these out randomly

The object is to form a crossword using all of your letters -- i.e., imagine you are playing Scrabble by yourself, positioning word after word, only you have to use all seven letters. All standard Scrabble rules apply. House rules generally dictate that the "Q" tile counts as "Qu" for the sake of player sanity, and the well-being of the player who gets all the "U" tiles.

A crossword using all seven letters

The first person to use all seven letters yells "Take Two!" Every player then takes two more tiles, regardless of whether or not they finished using the first seven.

Ack! Two more tiles!

Now each player must use all nine tiles to form a new crossword. Players can build off the crossword they already built or rearrange any or all of the tiles to make a new one.

Piece of cake. Take Two!

The first player to use all their tiles shouts "Take Two!". Every player again takes two more tiles. This continues until all of the Scrabble tiles in the center of the playing surface are gone.

If a player shouts "Take Two!" and there are no tiles left (or not enough for everyone to take two), then that player is the winner of the round. You can keep score of how many rounds each player wins, or just play for the fun of it.

The rounds are hectic and a little nerve-wracking, especially if you fall behind the person shouting "Take Two". Often times the winner of a round is different than the person who shouted "Take Two!" the most, so don't get flustered. Also, sometimes you have to be willing to abandon the words you already have to fit in the new letters. And even if you don't win one round, there's another one coming in a matter of minutes.

A group of us played last night for about two hours, and if it hadn't been for work today we would have played longer.

Japan - Day 3

2007-10-23T03:30:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, October 23 (Japan Time)

Greetings from the Shinkanssen! That's the bullet-train that runs from one end of Japan to the other. Actually, I think there is more than one set of tracks, but whatever. Ginger and I have been train riding fools so far this week. This is my first time on the Shinkanssen. The rest of the trains have just been the mass transit lines in Tokyo.

It's nice to sit down finally and rest my feet. As I told Ginger earlier today, "My dawgies are tired!" We spent the majority of the day in Ueno at the Zoo. She and I have gone on several zoo dates in the US, and we had always wondered what animals foreign zoos would house. Would they find commonplace animals from the US so interesting as to make them zoo-worthy? Would the gigantic squirrels of South Bend make it in? What about the possum - ugly and abundant in my home state of Kentucky - would it amaze the Japanese? Well, I'm happy to report that there were indeed animals indigenous to North America in the zoo, but not our squirrels or possum. They did have both bison and beaver. If you think about it, both of those animals make a lot of sense. I can't think of any other animals in the world that compare to either one. One Japanese girl was very intrigued by the bison, reading the sign and saying repeatedly, "Ohhh! Bi-SON! Bi-SON!" The bison also seemed intrigued by the girl, responding in kind by turning its back to her and creating a nice, steamy pile. Ginger and I also shouted upon seeing the familiar animal, only we both shouted "Tatanka!" unsolicited by the other. It was a bonding moment. Thank you, Kevin Costner.

We saw a lot of new animals, too. I had never seen a giant anteater or an aardvark before today, nor had I seen an armadillo. Apparently the animals with "a" names had evaded me all my life, but no more! Ginger thought it funny that I had to travel all the way to Japan to see my first armadillo when they're rampant in the central southern states. There were a ton of birds, including a lot of beautiful cranes, ibises, owls, and eagles. Some of the other animals we had never seen before included the ring-tailed cat, red panda, flying fox (basically a huge bat), and a bird called the Cock-of-the-Rock, which looked like it was donning an Elvis hairdo.

Quick aside: this train is seriously hauling. I'd guess we're doing somewhere between 100+ mph, easily. And the ride is very smooth.

I got to try some more traditional Japanese cuisine today before leaving Shinjuku. We went to what basically was a Japanese fast food restaurant, only it's more mom-and-pop style. What makes it fast-food-like is that the menu is a window display of all the dishes they cook with numbers by each. When you go inside, you walk up to a vending machine, put in your yen, press the button with the number you want, and it gives you a ticket. You then hand the ticket to the person at the counter and they make your dish and hand it to you. Ginger is fascinated by these restaurants and wanted to take me to one since I landed. Oh, I still haven't told you what I had - udon noodles in a beef broth with beef and onions. In case you don't know, udon is a thick noodle made of buckwheat and is quite tasty. Top it off with a refreshing Coca-Cola purchased at one of the thousands of vending machines in lining the streets of Tokyo, and you have a tasty meal.

Now we're on our way to Osaka for the next three days. Our original plan was to go to Kyoto, but when you don't book your hotel until the day before, sometimes you have to change your plans. Especially here in Japan, where it seems like people must live in hotels, or the tourism industry is doing great. Hotel searching last night was actually the only time I thought I might say something mean to Ginger. It wasn't her fault - I was tired from a long day of walking and we were trying to book on the hotel lobby computer, which had an English/Japanese keyboard. The worst part -- the space key was shortened to create two new keys that switch to Japanese, but not back to English. So mid-sentence or Google search, your word were suddenly replaced with Japanese kanjis. Once we gave up on the hotel search, I tried to write an email to my parents and gave up in the first sentence. The next morning I find out that the hotel has free internet in the rooms, but you have to ask for a kit. Awesome. I am my own worst enemy. Nevertheless, the last hour of our stay was enough to find a room at the Ramada Inn in Osaka. We're hoping that a hotel with a western name will have a few more comforts of the Western life, namely a bed that's not so firm.

One more thought on the Shinkanssen -- it's not so much designed for tourist travel as it is business travel. Most of the passengers appear to be business-men and women. There's also no room for luggage. Well, at least no dedicated room. There's a luggage shelf above the seats that's really only suitable for for backpacks or small carry-on luggage, but there's no space for large suitcases. Luckily no one has a ticket for the third seat in our row, so that's where my bag is. Ginger fit hers behind the last row of the car. I'm not sure why they didn't design the cars to have a luggage space, since the Japanese seem to have most other things pretty well thought out. I guess they don't get a lot of tourists on the trains. Oh well. If that's the only issue we run into all week, we've got it made.

Japan - Day 1

2007-10-21T06:31:00.000-07:00

Sunday, 21 Oct 2007 (Japan time)

Well, I made it to Japan. It's kind of surreal, but here I am. I got in last night, which seemed like yesterday morning to me because of the time change. Ginger met me at the airport and helped me navigate the trains into Tokyo and to our hotel. It's good she came because I couldn't fall asleep on the flight and I was running on fumes. I managed to stay up late enough to accompany her to dinner. She scarfed down a rice bowl with beef, plus all the traditional side dishes and miso soup. I settled on a bowl of warm miso soup which was just enough to keep me awake and able to hold a conversation.

We slept in this morning to help me get over my jet lag. By the time we got out of the hotel it was lunch time, so we set out on a quest for food. A short meander through the Shinjuku station landed us in a small restaurant. The sample dishes in the window outside caught Ginger's eye and the decision was made. The menus had no English, but we saw a picture of a dish in the display and pointed it out to the waitress. Soon after we each had trays of delicious food in front of us. I called it sashimi at first, but someone corrected me later on. I don't remember the name. Sorry. Nevertheless, it was delicious.

Satiated by our traditional Japanese cuisine, we set out to explore Shinjuku. We started out in the Shinjuku Central Park, which was adjacent to our hotel. The grounds were very green and very comforting. I was shocked at how nice the weather was for the time of year. Japan's climate is pretty temperate despite how far north it is. We wandered through a swap meet in the park courtyard and perused the goods. There were a lot of American clothes (A&F, AE, GAP, etc.) that people were selling. Ginger was in Otsu and Kyoto the week before and noted that she didn't see any homeless people. I rebuked that theory on my first day as we passed several homeless people with tarp-tents in the park.

After that we set off for the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. On the other side of town. I couldn't help but notice how clean the streets are, and the whole city in general. There's also very little traffic. Granted, it was Sunday, but still. In Los Angeles there's traffic every day. They also drive on the opposite side of the road. I guess Americans are just about the only people who drive on the right side of the road. We just have to be different.

We make it to the gardens and they're much bigger than the park. You have to pay to get in, but it's only like 200 yen (less than $2). Being Sunday, all the Tokyo residents are out enjoying the amazing weather. The park is built around a long, slender pond in the middle. around it are open green lawns, and around all that is a forested border. There were many stone lanterns around the park and even a nice patio house. It turns out the house was built for the wedding of one of the Japanese princes.

Our friend Sander took us out to dinner in Ikebukuro for some more traditional Japanese cuisine. At the top of the menu were what I surmise were fried sardines. Not fried fish meat, but fried whole fish. You eat them like french fries. I was a little weirded out, but dove tight and bit the head off one. Scrumptious! Well, I had to have a swig of water, but I ended up eating about three of them before the night was over. Also on the menu was tempura and kebobs. There was another dish (I can't remember the name) that had beef and vegetables and they cooked it in a bowl right there on the table. Very tasty. We even got some Japanese beer and hot sake to wash it all down with.

Sander took the chance to teach us a few of the Japanese customs. We had noticed how polite everyone in Japan had been, and Sander explained that it was no coincidence. There are many formalities such as when someone hands you something (a receipt, your credit card) with both hands, you accept it with both hands.

With our bellies full and bodies warm from the sake, Ginger and I are calling it a day.

The Glory of Love

2007-10-16T17:06:00.000-07:00

I'm talking to my coworker today about my upcoming trip to Japan, and he tells me I need to stay at some place with the paper sliding doors overlooking some beautiful forest. I could eat at one of those super short tables and share tea and sleep on a mat, he continues. By this point the image of Daniel Russo and his hottie Japanese lady-friend is in my head, not to mention Peter Cetera's voice. Suddenly I'm transported into a daydream where I'm saving Ginger from some Japanese foil of myself whom I have dishonored.

Daniel Russo dishonored himself by cheating on Elisabeth Shue's character.

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that my trip will be nothing like that. I sure hope it isn't. I have zero karate skills and would probably get my butt whooped in a fight. We goats are pacifists, you know. Sure, we talk a big talk. Like last night when Matt and I were watching Last One Standing. We were both like, "This guy sucks. He needs to get in there and bash that Zulu's shield with his stick a few times, scare the crap out of him, you know, and then start goin' for the legs." And in reality, we would have been crying like women, tucked in the fetal position, if we were on the show. Sure, there's some primal rage somewhere down in there, but it would take a lot to require unleashing. And it would probably do more harm than good. Oh, check out the show if you haven't already. It's on Discovery Channel.

Go ahead, be jealous

2007-10-09T14:18:00.000-07:00

For behold...

That's right, I hung out with none other than the legendary Bruiser while at the ND-UCLA game this weekend. It appears she's still living up in the Bay Area and doing well on all accounts. Still looking good, I might add. The blond hair threw me, though...

For those of you going to the BC game next weekend, keep an eye out for our former section leader. I think she mentioned something about tailgating with Mothball, although I can't be certain.

Mothball commences peeing himself in 3... 2... 1...

Exhibit BF

2007-10-08T21:27:00.000-07:00

Two Fridays ago I got on a plane to Indianapolis with an end destination of West Lafayette, IN. The goal of the weekend: cheer the Irish on to their first victory from inside Ross-Ade Stadium.

Halfway through the flight I woke up suddenly in a cold sweat -- I forgot to bring the game tickets. Awesome.

Two and a half hours, a dozen text messages, half a dozen phone calls, and $42 in FedEx charges gets my tickets overnighted to me. They arrive two hours before game-time, making me miss the tailgating.

On top of it all, we go lose and go 0-5.

Moesday, Wednesday, Frursday

2007-09-04T19:29:00.000-07:00

The sun is in the Southern sky and Jupiter is aligned with Mars. And the result is an event so glorious and rare that it only happens once - maybe five times - a year. I speak, of course, of the Three Day Work Week.

Yes, the ever-elusive Three Day Work Week has arrived as a combination of national holiday and 9/80 off Friday, and I'm taking full advantage. The parents were in town for the past week, so I spent spent Monday biking aroudn the South Bay with them. And this Friday I'm planning to go sailing to either Catalina or the Channel Islands with Gilbert. Whah-thah!

The only thing about the Three Day work Week is that you spend the whole week wondering what day it is. Tuesday feels like Monday when you first start, but by the end you're thinking about how there are only two days left in the week. Thursday becomes the new Friday even though you swear it's only half-way over. And you spend all day Wednesday thinking it's three different days. It's a tough burden to suffer through, but I think I can manage.

Top it all off by rubbing it in the faces of your friends and you have a successful Three Day Work Week.

Whitewater Goat

2007-08-21T20:04:00.000-07:00

No, that's not my boat in the video. If it were my boat, you would have a first person view for starters. You would also see the guy in the very front be flung feet over head into the Class V rapid. And that guy would be me. The rapids are named Tunnel Falls and they are wicked awesome! Any of you adventure junkies out there have got to get yourself to Gore Canyon in Colorado, but you gotta do it quick because the season is about to close. And then you're gonna have to wait another year to hit some of the sickest white water in the US.

Check out some the pictures I took. (I took the video, too).

Somebody's gonna win...

2007-07-11T20:57:00.000-07:00

Might as well be me.

The lottery results for Notre Dame football tickets are officially out, and once again I have made out like a bandit. I ended up getting tickets for three of the six games for which I applied. Sadly, though, none of them were home games. Instead of a pilgrimage to South Bend and the Rock that Rockne Built, I'll be traveling to Purdue, Stanford, and UCLA. Considering my geographical location and affiliations, those turn out to be pretty good games for me. Also, I applied for tickets on a few other people's applications but don't know the results of those yet. We'll see what I get.

How did everyone else do? Am I going to see any of you this fall?

skeew wef tsap ehT

2007-07-10T22:30:00.001-07:00

For those of you who haven't (a) read the Davinci Code, or (b) completed 6th grad world history, the title of this blog post is "The past few weeks" in reverse. Why? Because this post is going to be all about ingrown toenails. And by "ingrown toenails", I mean "the past few weeks of my life told in reverse chronological order." Before I begin, I have to make this disclaimer: If you read this post backwards, there is a secret message. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm pretty sure it's the same story told in chronological order. Only time will tell.

I think I'm coming down with something, which is bad because Alaska is coming to LA to visit this weekend. I haven't seen him since the Irish whooped up on Ty Willingham in Seattle a couple years ago, so it's bound to be a heartwarming reunion. Plus, it will probably convince some of the other LA Domers (Carolyn) to come hang out. I have no idea why I just coughed Carolyn's name in my blog, seeing how she probably doesn't even know it exists and thus will never read it. And who's fault is that? Sure, sure, blame it on the Goat.

Oh! Speaking of goats, I saw the funniest thing the other day on Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe. Before I tell you what it was, I have to tell you check out this show. It's like This Old House, but with things that are interesting. Okay, back to the story. So good ol' Mike Rowe visits a goat farm in Tennessee that's famous for it's "fainting" goats. This breed has a condition where the goats will stiffen up like they have rigor mortis, and they usually end up falling over on their sides with legs pointing straight out! HI-larious. I nearly fell off the couch. Luckily, Ginger found it amusing that I liked the fainting goats.

"Ginger?" you say? Yup. My special lady-friend made it out to LA this weekend to go to a wedding with me up in Beverly Hills. We felt pretty fancy rolling up to the Beverly Hilton for the reception in the Stardust Room. To quote Ginger: "Fayun-cy!" We had a good time even if the power did go out mid-reception. My buddy Keith picked up the slack by sitting down at the baby grand piano and belting out some dueling piano-bar favorites. I think he made $10 in tips, too. Most of it came from the DJ.

Fourth of July this year saw yet another party at the Sheldon Chateau. While lower-key than previous years, it still delivered like only a Chateau party can. Beer brats, beer pong, and a game of cups that pitted the PLACE Corps teachers against the Northrop Grumman engineers. I bet you can guess which side won just by guessing which side drinks competitively more.

A few days before that I finally got to rotate to my new job. So I'm pretty stoked about this. I've basically gone from hating my job to loving it. I'm finally getting to do work in the field of telecommunications, instead of the field of pointless documents that kill the rainforest. I can actually feel the atrophy of my brain stopping and new cells being regenerated. Or maybe that's a tumor. We should consult Detective John Kimble. "It's not a tumor!" That guy's my governor. Anywho, I share an office with a brand new hire who just graduated from USC. So far she seems pretty nice, so I'm cool with it. There are a lot more Trojan fans in the office, too, so that's going to make things interesting.

PLACE Corps + tradition = Annual 4th of July camping trip to Sequoia National Forest. In a rare turn of events, the non-PLACErs were the largest group which meant the conversations didn't revolve around teaching. Instead, they're weren't any conversations AT ALL. Engineers are socially awkward. Thank you, Captain Obvious. I did get to take windsurfing lessons, though, which was sweet. That shit is hard, though. It didn't help that we were trying to learn in 20-30 mph gusts. The instructor said it would build character, or some similar non-sensical raving. He was old.

And there you have it. Consider this the fat lady singing.

I am my own best friend

2007-06-21T09:44:00.000-07:00

As often as I manage to prove that I am, indeed, my own worst enemy, I think it's time to present some evidence to the contrary. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give the best purchases I have made in the past two years.

4. Baller Suit

Now that all these crazy people I call "friends" are getting married, I decided my single black suit that I've owned for 7 years wasn't going to cut it anymore. So I grabbed my nearest female fashion consultant (normally Ginger, but in this case my friend Mel) and headed to JCPenney. A dozen suits and half a dozen drooling middle-age women in the fitting room later, I only found one suit I liked which, unfortunately, they did not have in my size. So I followed the infinite advice of commercial advertisement and headed to the nearest Men's Wearhouse. My salesperson was a wee girl with a delicious Texas accent who immediately pulled out an espresso pinstriped athletic-cut suit that made me look less like a mid-40s professional business man and more like a 20-something baller.

3. MacBook

That's right, I made the switch. Am I any happier for the fact? Quite possibly. In the end, it's not that much different than a PC. "Blasphemy!" cry the Mac users around the world. Okay, so there are things that are better, which rhyme with:

Form Factor: It's lighter, slimmer, and sexier than its PC counterparts
Speed: Booting and waking it up from Sleep Mode take seconds instead of minutes
MacOS X: built on top of BSD - great for Linux nerds like me
No viruses/spyware: No need to install process-intensive programs to guard against these

It's not perfect by any means, but still very nice.

2. Comet, the Night Horse

Otherwise known as my Mustang GT convertible, Comet provides turns the normally tedious task of driving in Los Angeles into an adventure. There's something about the purr of the engine that's soothing. In fact, my favorite part of the day is often the point when I walk out of my office and get into the Mustang and start the motor. My next favorite part is when the 300 horses under the hood accelerate me away from my office with extreme prejudice. I don't know what their prejudice is against, but I assure you that it is extreme. Combine that with the feeling of the ocean breeze through my short spiky hair and I forget all about the dissatisfying job that made this purchase possible.

1. The Mattress from Heaven

I'm not kidding here. This mattress is from heaven, made from the feathers of angels. Not bloody angel feathers like the ones in the movie Dogma (Catholicism, OW!), but soft, clean, comforting feathers that invite you to the realms of dreamland. What am I talking about? I don't know. Incidently, this amazing mattress is sold at your local mattess store under the guise of a Simmons Beautyrest Pelham Plush. I went hunting for this mattress the morning after I arrived in California two years ago. Ginger and I had slept on an air mattress the night before which had a hole in it, and thus, we woke up on the hard floor. We tried out several mattresses before lying on this one, and within 5 seconds Ginger had instictively rolled over, put her arm around me, and fallen asleep. The salesman started writing up the order slip before I could tell him we would take it. The rest is history. Sweet, blissful sleep history.

A Case of the Mondays

2007-06-18T19:41:00.000-07:00

We all use this phrase from time to time, usually in a joking manner to describe having to go back to work after an awesome weekend. But today it applied to my life in the truest of terms. I knew for sure when the IT guy killed my computer by trying to reinstall Adobe. How the eff do you kill a computer by reinstalling a program? I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the IT guy messing with Windows' registry. Even the stupidest Windows user knows not to touch the registry in Windows. And if you do, you effing back up the hard drive somewhere beforehand.

Add this on top of the fact that I had a hard time sleeping last night, I feel slightly sick after surfing in the pollution-infested waters of LA yesterday, and the fact that all my work must be done on a computer, and you have the reason why I went home at 2:30 this afternoon. I would have left sooner except that there was a meeting scheduled for 2:00, which was cancelled at 1:45. Awesome.

Count this as Exhibit XD for evidence for hating my job.

Finding your average home

2007-06-14T12:28:00.000-07:00

There has been an inquiry as to how I was able to find my average hometown. Well, I'll you. It was no easy task. It took hours of mapping, calculation, configuration, and persperation. Luckily the software guys at Google Maps and Microsoft did all of that for me. All I had to do was:

Make a list of all the places I have lived. My criteria was simple; I had to actually "move" there and live there approximately one month. High school summer programs, college dorms, and summer lodgings during college all count. Summer camps, band camps, sports camps, and vacations do not count on account of their short nature (one week). The one gray item on my list is Fairfax, VA, when I spent 3.5 living out of various hotels for my job. Since I wasn't living in my California apartment during that time, I'm counting it.
Determine the latitude/longitude of each residence. This is where those sweaty engineers at Google Maps helped out. You can see a map here.
Take a weighted average of the lat./long.'s. I determined how long (in months) I've lived at each location. I multiplied that number by the latitude and longitude for the location. Do it for all locations, add them all up, then divide by the total number of months in my life. The result is the average lifetime latitude/longitude. See the table below for the numbers.

Location	Months	Lat (N)	Long (E)	Weighted Lat (N)	Weighted Long (E)
Woodreed Ct.	48	38.32	-85.51	1839.63	-4104.95
Highgate Dr.	175	38.35	-85.43	6711.36	-14951.44
GSA	.75	38.21	-85.70	28.66	-64.28
GSP	1.25	39.03	-84.46	48.79	-105.58
Zahm Hall	27	41.70	-86.23	1126.00	-2328.40
Castle Point	3	41.72	-86.22	125.17	-258.66
Animal House	12	41.69	-86.22	500.37	-1034.69
Lafayette, IN	20	40.41	-86.89	808.38	-1737.85
Marina del Rey	3	33.98	-118.46	101.94	-355.38
Sheldon Chateau	21	33.91	-118.41	712.30	-2486.64
Fairfax, VA	3.5	38.86	-77.38	136.01	-270.84
TOTALS	314.5	--	--	12138.67	-27698.74
AVERAGE	--	--	--	38.59	-88.07

38.59ºN latitude, 88.07ºW longitude gives you Parkersburg, IL. See, I told you it was boring.

Hometown Average

2007-06-13T14:28:00.000-07:00

I got to thinking the other day that I've lived in a lot of places in my short but highly insignificant life. And then I wondered to myself, "I wonder where I 'live' if I averaged all those places..." Maybe you too have wondered this. Well, wonder no more! For I have toiled relentlessly and tabulated the results to find out that my average hometown is... (drumroll please) ...

Parkersburg, IL

Actually, it comes out to some cornfield about 2 miles northwest of Parkersburg, but who's counting? Interesting note, though, is that Parkersburg is not far from Highland, IL, the hometown of our favorite red-headed falto. The longer I stay in California, the closer my average hometown will move closer to Highland and St. Louis.

This result actually matches up nicely with another highly scientific web-based quiz I took today that tells me what accent I have. What accent is that, you ask? BAM! Just look below.

Midland

("Midland" is not necessarily the same thing as "Midwest") The default, lowest-common-denominator American accent that newscasters try to imitate. Since it's a neutral accent, just because you have a Midland accent doesn't mean you're from the Midland.

Click Here to Take This Quiz

It appears that despite my love of my Southern heritage, all the evidence points to me being a damn Yank. Well, I'm here to say that you can call me that dirty name, but you'll have to pry my sweet tea, mint julep, and/or bourbon from my cold, dead hands.

Winds of Change

2007-06-12T15:01:00.000-07:00

Things are changing. A lot. At least, that's the way it seems right now in my life. Well, that's not entirely accurate. My life is actually staying pretty much the same; It's all the things around me that are changing. I guess that just goes to prove that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Or not. I have no idea what I'm talking about.

Booter moved out. Yup, our aspiring young actor has taken yet another step in furthering his blossoming career by moving closer to the source -- to West Hollywood. In a way, this isn't too much of a change since he was permanently absent from our apartment for about two months while rehearsing and performing in his show Junk! A Rock Opera (which was quite entertaining -- Booter wears lingerie at one point). We didn't even think he was actually going to move out until a lot later. He kept saying he planned to move out June 1, but had done seemingly nothing to prepare for said move. Then one he comes home saying he found a place and the next weekend his room is empty save his old teaching supplies and about a million dust-bunnies. For a guy who's allergic to damn near everything, he sure has no problems with dust. Alanis Morrisette finds that coincidental (which is weird because it's actually ironic, unlike most of the lyrics in her song). So I no longer have a roommate who will share a couple cold ones to blow off steam while watching an episode of Doctor Who or Brisco County, Jr. But fear not, he still visits from time to time after finishing up the day at his nearby office. And I've even ventured north of the 10 to hit up the bars in WeHo with the Boots. That's another story, though...

My sister is leaving Louisville. I guess John's company offered him a big promotion and raise -- the kicker being that he would have to move to Nashville. So, it's not like it's a HUGE move, but a 3-hour drive sucks in comparison to 30 minutes, as far as my parents are concerned. I know Mom and Dad are pretty bummed about this one, especially since I'm out here in stupid Southern California (you heard me). Empty Nest is really going to set in. I worry a little for Shannon, too. I know both her and John had a lot of friends in the area, and they're moving to a place where they know nobody. The good news is that Shannon graduated from nursing school just a few week ago! She's officially an RN and has already landed a job in Nashville (she had one waiting in Louisville before finding out about John's promotion). Yup, my sister rocks.

People are getting married left and right. Sweet crap, it's like an epidemic. I've already been to one wedding this year (Mark and Ellen Trandel), and have several others marked on the calendar (two in July, one in September). Mal & Lizett - maybe it's best you aren't having yours this year. I need to save some money somewhere. Needless to say, I am not getting married anytime soon. Ginger's still got another year or more before graduation, so that's that.

Now that it's June, it's time for me to start a new rotation in my company. This is my last year in this rotation program and I'm finally getting to do work related to my graduate studies! It's a good thing, too, because I was beginning to wonder if I was going to stay with the company. Two of the guys in the program just left the company looking for better work. Luckily, I'm going to be working for the satellite-making branch of my company doing wireless communications engineering, so I'm pretty stoked about that. Plus, the office is only like 4 miles from my apartment so I'll probably end up riding my bike to work a lot. The only thing I'm worried about is that I'm going to be on a program whose employees get blacklisted from other select programs in the corporation due to some archane government regulation. That in itself doesn't sound so bad, but it turns out that the blacklist will block me from the wiki I founded and have been actively contributing to. Balls. The other problem is that I have no idea when I'll be transfering because the paperwork is getting tangled up in the bureaucracy that is my company. Hopefully it'll happen in the next week or two.

Change isn't always bad, though. It's just different. Booter is going to be replaced by our friend Kelley, who is definitely a lot of fun and will help keep Phil occupied. Booter's show got picked up for 6 weeks of performances at another theater. As for my parents, maybe this will give them a good reason to get a dog. I know that's a poor substitute for your children and grandchildren, but at least it's something, and I know Mom's been beating around the bush for years about getting another dog. Plus, maybe Shannon's moving will improve our inter-sibling communications since we won't be able to hear about each other's lives through the parents.

And now I'm going to go get some change for a buck so I can buy a Dr. Pepper.

R.I.P. Rashanda the Honda (1996-2007)

2007-03-29T21:40:00.000-07:00

This is a tale of a car, not unlike many others you might see on the road, but in the end very different. She ran on gasoline and required oil changes every 3,000 miles for her little 4-cyclinder engine. She didn't have a lot of power under the hood but could seat 4 comfortably (5 in a pinch) and got 30 mpg on average. And when she wasn't loaded down with passengers or cargo, she loved to let her engine whine and race down the freeways. This is the story of her life.

Rashanda the Honda began her life as many Hondas do - as an idea in the mind of some Japanese person who was looking to create a reliable vehicle that was still affordable. Once out the factory door, she was shipped to a dealership in Louisville, KY, where she was purchased by my sister in 1996. My sister chose the Civic because it was all the rage amongst her college friends at the
time (and the price matched the salary of her new job).

Several years later my sister got married and suddenly had too many cars. She put the car up for sale and my parents chose to buy it from her since I was just learning to drive. My mother took Rashanda under her wing and let me learn to drive on the Probe.

When I ventured to the tundra that is South Bend, IN, my parents did not want me driving a ten-year old car that could be on its last legs, so they told me to take the Honda. And from that point on a beautiful relationship began to form. At first I was hesitant. The Civic felt weird after driving a car with some weight and muscle. It seemed like a go-cart in comparison.

Throughout the next few years Rashanda carted my possessions back and forth from Louisville to South Bend. She took me and friends on late night excursions to Steak n' Shake for a greasy meal. In fact, it was on such an excursion that my good friend Maria helped me name her. "Rashanda the Honda," she blurted out, "That was so easy." Senior year she helped frosh Tones get from practice to uniform fittings before any of the other freshmen, almost getting in an accident with a carload of trumpets but turning on the afterburners to cut them off and arrive victorously at the Band Building. One of my fondest memories is driving to and from campus senior year and having Jism playing with the hazard light button as I took her home.

Rashanda followed me to Purdue in grad school where the hits kept rolling. Her amazing gas mileage came in handy on my minimal grad student salary. Having $5 of gasoline last me two weeks was amazing. And then there were the many instances of the Stop Light Game. She even took me and Tones and Faltos to Pittsburgh to watch the Irish woop up on Pitt, a game where I got so drunk I gave my shirt to some lady in her mid-thirties who claimed to be an Irish fan but wasn't wearing green. Oh, scotch. Scotch, scotch, scotch.

After Purdue, Rashanda started the adventurous phase of her life. A few minor modifications -- a roof rack, Sirius radio -- she was ready to see the world. She made three cross-country trips to California, loaded down with possessions but never fearing the obstacle that was the Rockies. She saw such places as St. Louis, Oklahoma City, Amarillo, Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Zion, and Los Angeles. On her final cross-country venture, her exhaust pipe rusted through and fell off. As far as I know it is still sitting on the side of the Interstate in the middle of the desert in Arizona (I had to cut if off with a hacksaw).

Rashanda served faithfully on two annual Fourth of July camping trips to Sequoia National Forest without ever complaining about the rugged terrain. She took us to Palo Alto to watch the Irish beat Stanford to secure a Fiesta Bowl berth. And then she drove me and Ginger to the Phoenix for New Year's and the Fiesta Bowl.

Her last trip was no less adventurous in its nature. In fact, it was to be her coup de grace. A trip to her neighboring country as a sign of good faith and fraternal outreach. She was carrying her friends to Mexico for a 50-mile bike ride, complete with drinking and tacos. Rashanda was ready to take on the world, initially carrying 8 bikes (5 on the roof and 3 on the trunk) and 4 passengers. It wasn't until we got a few miles down the road that we realized she had taken on more than she could handle and her wheels were rubbing on the wheel wells. But that was her style. Never backing down, always ready for anything.

Then the Mexicans took her from me. She was minding her own business, waiting in a strange town for her passengers to return from their long day of riding and site-seeing, when some petty thieves broke into her and forced her against her will to drive for them. The details from that point on are a mystery, but here's how I like to think it happened. The pack of thieves (read, "fucktards"), led by a man named Fernando, drove Rashanda to their secret lair in some Mexican cave. There they stripped the valuable parts -- radio, bike rack, personal belongings -- to sell to corrupt cops. As for Rashanda, there were drug trafficers she could be sold to. And that's just what happened. The drug lord wanna-bes then stuffed her full of marijuana and tried to cross back into the U.S. again.

But Customs was too smart and caught the effers. Rashanda was saved! But little did she know that the hands into which she had now fallen were even worse than the ones she left. Customs had plans that did not involve Rashanda's well-being. All they cared about were the drugs. By golly, no drugs were getting into their beloved United States, and they would do whatever necessary to ensure that. So they started ripping Rashanda apart, piece by piece. Bumpers, glove compartment, rear seats, air bags, vent covers, fuel tank. There was no commpartment too small to rip out and investigate. And what did they care? It wasn't their car and it was a drug-trafficking car. So eff it!

Five and half months later, Customs decided to let me finally have her back. But not before making me pay $900 in impound fees. I tried to get them to let me at least see Rashanda before making me pay, but they said, "No. Fuck you.*" (*paraphrased). Once I handed over the check I saw the debacle that was my poor Rashanda.

She now rests in a salvage yard in San Diego, a car that died before her prime with many more miles still left in her. She will be sadly missed by me and all who knew her. Rest in peace, Rashanda.

Pictures of Rashanda's brutal death.

Homecoming (hopefully...)

2007-03-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the big day. Yup, I'm headed down to San Diego finally to retrieve my beloved Rashanda. After five and half months of separation, we will soon be reunited! Glorious! On a side note, I don't say "glorious" nearly enough anymore. What's up with that?

Ginger came in town last night, so we're getting some QT in during her Spring Break. Man, there's something I miss since entering the workforce. I guess that's the price you pay for getting a big paycheck. Ginger's going to ride down with me and drive Rashanda back (if she isn't totalled). I still have no idea what shape she (the car, not my girlfriend) is in, and the impound lot won't tell me, either. Apparently I have to pay the $900 impound fee before I (or my insurance agent) can inspect the vehicle. It's really a big scam. Luckily, the insurance companies have tentatively agreed to reimburse me for the impound fees. The Mexican insurance company gave me no guarantees of this, but AAA (my American insurance) said they would help if the Mexican company did not.

In commemoration of this most glorious (there it is again!) event, here are pictures from the last time I saw Rashanda in all her glory.

Channeling da Boo-Boo

2007-02-24T13:49:00.000-08:00

WARNING: The post below is not suited for all reading audiences. It was written when I was pretty ticked off and the language within refelcts that anger. You have been warned.

Overheard on flight from LA to Cincinnati (some pompous California bitch):

"Look how ugly it is. No wonder they call it the armpit of America. Yeah, that's what they call it. The armpit of America. I hear it's the ugliest city in the country. Or maybe that's Cleveland. Look at how close together their houses are. They don't even have backyards like we do. Look at the pools, they don't have fences around them. That's because they have underground wire fences. A current runs through them and it shocks the dogs when they try to cross it. I feel so sorry for so-and-so's son, he comes out here to go to school in Columbus. I don't know why he would want to be here."

Holy fucking shit! Are you seriously judging a city based on (a) your stupid, uninformed opinions based on rumors from other stuck-up Californian ass-hats, and (b) what you see of when you're fucking FLYING OVER IT? Wow, I hope I never have to be tried by a jury with your prejudiced spoon-fed ass on it. Of course Cincinnati isn't going to look like paradise right now, it's the middle of the fucking winter! You wouldn't know anything about that, though, because you think winter is when it drops to 50º and starts to sprinkle, which you call a Winter Storm and talk for years to your friends about "that awful winter storm we had back in '94". Fuck off. Oh, and by the way, the armpit of America is New Jersey, you ignorant fuck. Everyone knows that. And you know what, it's probably a hell of a lot nicer than the desert covered state you call home, where you have to steal half of the Western US's natural water supply. You want to talk about ugly cities? Look in your own backyard, bitch. Let's judge Los Angeles based on your criteria. Riddled with gang warfare, voluptuous bimbos who are dumber than a rotting log, illegal immigrants running rampant. When I fly into LA, all I see is houses on top of houses. Where are the backyards? There aren't any, douchebag. And what's that layer of brown fog? Oh, that's right, it's a thick layer of pollution that's going to cause lung cancer in half the kids that grow up there. And where's the greenery? There isn't any! You gluttonous pigs paved over every last fucking inch of it with concrete so you could further contribute to the incessant traffic and carcenogenic cloud that forever lingers over your god-forsaken city. And what the fuck are you talking about with pools and fences? I looked out the window and I could see fences around all those houses. Maybe you should go see a fucking optometrist, you senile bitch. Do everyone in the Midwestern and Southern states and keep your resource-gobbling ass out. It would be a waste of space and oxygen to support your pathetic life, you smug bitch. You know who I feel sorry for? Me. Because I have to live with the likes of you for another 3.5 months, and maybe more.

Man at Work

2007-02-23T09:45:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not talking about the kick-ass guitarist that was a member of the '80s band "Men at Work" who now appears semi-regularly on Scrubs, although that guy is sweet. I'm talking about myself. I'm at work. And not doing much. The company decided to axe my team from the project on which we were working, which was two weeks later than they axed everyone else. Good times. So this week has been entirely devoted to finding a new project. Which means the majority of my days have been pretty boring. There has definitely been a lot of message board reading, blog reading, talking to insurance companies and US Customs about Rashanda, and studying for my CCNA.

I finally found my new position yesterday right before I left work, so I'm just waiting for all the bureaucratic red tape to get cut so I can move to my new office and begin immersing myself in documentation so I can contribute something in my last 3.5 months at this office. I'm still not sure where my last rotation will be, but I'm pulling for Redondo Beach or San Diego. It's not that I want to stay in California, per se, but rather that those locations are actually doing wireless communications work. Seeing as how I have yet to apply my studies from grad school to my job, I figure those would be spots to remedy that problem.

In other fun news, I'm headed to Purdue tomorrow! The company is sending me out there to recruit, so I'm making a long weekend out of it and getting some Ginger time in. Hopefully Rooster will call me back later today and tell me he's able to grab dinner in Indy Saturday night. Animal House Roommate Reunion!

Fat Tuesday

2007-02-20T21:46:00.000-08:00

Ah yes, Mardi Gras. The time of year when we Catholics say goodbye to meat, but not before a binge-fest of biblical proportions. But if you think this post is about my sinful excesses, well then you're just plain wrong. Fool. While cool people like Crowley were having women flash their boobs at them to earn beads, I was staring at a computer screen and attending a lecture on systems engineering. Everyone wants to be me.

The one bright moment of today was that my Valentine's Day gift finally arrived, and it was freakin' sweet! Yup, someone (*cough* not my ND friends *cough*) finally got me some super sweet Strong Bad apparel, and that someone is my super hot girlfriend. And that someone is getting a special thank you when I see her this weekend. I'm going take her to the zoo. And that's not a metaphor. What?

I also got "Strong Bad Sings! (and other type songs)", which may be more awesome than the shirt. Booya.

Oh yeah, speaking of Lent, I'm giving up using the computer at home except for things like paying bills. So that means no posts from home. Which means all posts will be from work. I probably shouldn't have put that in writing. On the internet. Oh well.

Hi-larious e-mails

2007-02-19T14:55:00.000-08:00

One of the unfortunate side-effects of having a very common name (my birth name, not Goat) and owning the GMail address for it is that I get a lot of e-mail intended for other people. Many of them have been quite interesting -- search results from Monster.com (who knew I was looking for a new job?) and internship offers from judges in Missouri, just to name a few. These have been mildly amusing and I have enjoyed responding and kindly explaining the mishap.

Then I got this e-mail:

Subject: What the craic?

Dood-
TWAT UP? R U COMING TO 2 FRISCO LET US KNO CUZ WE HURD U WAS.........HOLLERATIT

LOVE,

ANNIE AND SONIA AND WAYNE

Okay, let's start from the top. The word "craic" in the subject line is actually attributed to the Gaelic language and means "fun, good times, good company." If you do a little research you'll find that it is pronounced "crack" and that the question, "What's the craic?" is common in colloquial vernacular. So, barring the missing astrophe "s", we can assume the sender is reasonably intelligent and even possesses knowledge of Irish slang.

Then there's the rest of the message. Wow. To quote Will Ferrell playing Alex Trebek, "And the show has reach an all-time low." By "the show" I mean "America", and by "an all-time low" I mean "a bleak future."

Okay, maybe I'm being an elitist pig here, but is it that hard to spell out words and use halfway proper punctuation? I can let the slang slide because it's a personal message and sometimes you want you voice to come through the writing. I'll even let the lack or proper capitalization slide for the same reason. But there's no need to shout. Turn off CAPS LOCK, fool.

A few days later I receieved another e-mail, this time from a different member of the trio.

Subject: yeaah

keep it choice dog just chillin in s.f.

A slight improvement, but still. Yikes.

I have come to a few possible conclusions:

These people are on crack. Not craic. Cocaine.
They are the children of hippy liberalists that infest the San Francisco area. This would support conclusion one (See South Park episode titled "Smug Alert")
They are the result of a society that promotes laziness and an "everybody wins" mentality (see "Hippies"), and as a result have never been motivated to learn to type or speak properly.

And people think Kentuckians are stupid.

I want my baby back, baby back, baby back...

2007-02-13T14:26:00.000-08:00

I got a letter form U.S. Customs this weekend telling me that they are finally ready to "remit the forfeiture of my vehicle," which is a bunch of fancy lawyer jargon for "you can have your car back." That's right, bitches, Rashanda the Honda is that much closer to making her way back into my arms! Sadly, nothing is easy when the government is involved, so there are still several steps before I get my baby back. I have to sign a Hold Harmless Agreement, pay storages fees (which will probably be about $700 which I'm not happy about), schedule an insurance adjuster, get the car towed back to LA, get the registration re-instated, and so on, and so on. Basically, it's going to take up a whole weekend here soon. The worst part is that I still have no idea what shape she is in. All I've been told is that the radio is gone (big surprise) and that Customs had to remove some sort of "compartment."

In our own form of civil boycott, my roommates and I have decided to form our own 50-mile bicycle ride right here in the safety of the U-nited States of Amerka. We're calling it the "Dude, Where's My Car" Bicycle Ride. Some of us, whose names rhyme with "boat," are fondly refering to it as the "Fuck Mexico"* Bicycle Ride. I'll let you think about that one for a bit. Anyways, the ride will begin somewhere in the vacinity of Buellton or Solvang and wind it's way down PCH to the town of Carpenteria, where there will be much drinking and debauchery, and no car thefts. We still have to map out the route, but we intend to hold the event on or about the same weekend as the Rosarito-Ensenada ride (that's the one where Rashanda was kidnapped).

As for the rest of this past weekend, everything rocked. The barcade lived up to all expectations. Old school games at old school prices (just a quarter!) and PBR in a can for two bucks. Two bucks! I know, I know, that's $1.50 too much. But for LA nightlife, a two dollar beer is something special. Follow it all up with Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles and you have a hell of an evening.

Saturday night was Mel & Jess's Mardi Gras party, complete with beads, masks, and streamers, none of which were used properly. None of the girls actually earned their beads, so that was a disappointment. Mostly it was just a grand occassion for getting housed. Mel apparently took advantage of said opportunity as she doesn't remember much of anything from the party. Well done.

Booter and I began watching the complete series of The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. If you have never seen this show, well, then you're in a sad state of affairs. Or blessed, depending how you look at it. To give you an idea of the target audience, my Dad absolutely loves the show for it's sense of humor. You've been warned. Or encouraged. You decide.

* Note: I don't hate all of Mexico, just the petty thieves, drug dealers, corrupt cops, and diarrhea-causing water.

Working for the weekend

2007-02-09T17:12:00.000-08:00

This week has been pretty easy at work, relatively. We finally moved out of the sweatshop and into a spacious bay with real desks and climate control, so if nothing else the environment is much improved. Plus the days are getting longer so it's no longer dark when I go home. Nevertheless, I can't wait for the weekend to start. That's in ten minutes, and it seems like an eternity.

I don't even have anything back planned for the weekend. Two of the roommates are out and the other is never around, it seems, so I guess I'll figure out something. I'm not too worried, though. I could use a laid couple of days.

When I leave work tonight I'm headed to meet Mel for dinner at the El Segundo Fish Co. I'm pretty stoked because I haven't gotten to chill with Mel in a while. I think we serve cheap therapy for each other. And we trade back massages -- something I sorely miss since I'm no longer near Ginger. After dinner we're meeting up with Gilbert to check out a "barcade" in Koreatown. Apparently they have vintage 80s arcade games like Rampage, Ms Pacman, and Galaga, and serve beer. Could I fit the target audience any better? Grew up in the 80s? Check. Nerd who loves old school games? Check. Loves to drink beer? Check. Tonight has some pretty high expectations to live up to.

I have successfully killed the last ten minutes of work. So long, suckers!

Why am I still here?

2007-02-04T19:43:00.000-08:00

Your prayers didn’t work. I’m still sitting in Concourse B waiting for my plane to arrive so I can get home. In the words of Dr. Eliot Reid, “Frick!” I would be halfway to the West Coast except that my connecting flight happened to be the only Southwest flight to leave when the ticket said the plane would leave. I’m serious. In all my flights on Southwest I have never boarded a plane prior to the departure time listed for the flight. Never. So when I showed up to my gate at the exact time shown on the ticket, you can imagine my surprise that the plane had just backed away from the jetway. All this after the flight attendant on my delayed first flight assured me that I would make the plane.

At least I get to watch the Super Bowl. 19-14, Colts.

My Kind of Town

2007-02-04T16:03:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Chicago’s Midway airport! You can thank Southwest airlines for this blog post, as they’re responsible for me missing my connection. So here I am, sitting in a white rocking chair, trying to watch the Super Bowl while four pubescent girls are doing rhythmic gymnastics in front of the TV. Don’t they know it’s the freakin’ Super Bowl?? And besides, it’s the Bears and Colts!! And we’re in freakin’ Chicago! Nevertheless, these girls are doing some pretty weird things with their bodies and hoola hoops. I would describe them to you, but that would require that I pay attention to them and thus look like a perv. The last thing I need today is to get accused of staring at teenage girls at Midway airport.

I spent the weekend visiting Ginger for Valentine’s Day. I know, I know, it’s not for another two weeks. Well, when you are 2,000 miles from your significant other, you celebrate these things when you can. I last saw her over New Year’s, so this fit right into our one-month-between-visits paradigm.

All in all, it was a pretty laid-back weekend. After lunch on Saturday morning (we slept through breakfast), Ginger wanted to go searching for a new winter coat as her old one was used as an ashtray last weekend at the bars. But I had a little trick up my sleeve. She had mentioned a one-of-a-kind jacket a few weeks ago that she really liked but couldn’t quite afford. Being the ever-perceptive and sly dog that I am, I called up my buddy Mark and ask him to go pick up the coat. I did it just in the nick of time, too, because Ginger happened upon a sizeable sum of cash last week and went to buy the coat herself just 2 hours after Mark and I secured the item. Needless to say, she was heart broken to find it gone, which made it all the better when I gave it to her on Saturday. Goat: 1, Other Guys: 0.

We ended up going to the mall anyways and shopping around. Ginger was having a hard time getting motivated to do work on her thesis a couple weeks ago, so I made a deal with her: make a list of tasks that need to be done before I got in town and if she finishes them all before I arrive, I’d buy her a new pair of shoes. Well, she didn’t finish in time and only missed it by a hair. I offered to reward her anyways, but she wouldn’t have it. She ended up buying a pair of shoes for herself (justified since she saved all that money on her jacket). I ended up getting a pretty sweet pair of shoes to replace the pair that suddenly disappeared last week. In typical own-worst-enemy fashion, I lost a pair of shoes. No clue where they are.

We finished the evening off with Steve, Kristy, and roommates at the new Irish pub in Lafayette. I was begging for one of these my entire time at Purdue, but they go and wait until after I leave to put one in. One order of fish & chips and six Guinnesses later, we head up to Harry’s. Did I mention that it was in single digits all weekend? Thank heavens for the booze blanket.

So here we are. It’s 16-14, Colts. I’m enjoying my old-fashioned rocking chair, typing a blog post, and trying not to look sketchy (I shaved my beard this weekend, so that should help). I’m also recovering from the final stages of a hangover coupled with a sinus infection. The hangover’s on it’s way out. The sinus infection looks like it’s here to stay. And now it’s time I head back to my gate because my flight boards in 45 minutes. Pray that it leaves on time.

I'm your bi-atch

2007-02-04T12:37:00.000-08:00

Apparently I am Jism’s bi-atch, seeing as how I only update my blog when she complains enough. I’m not one to bite the hand that feeds me, so I want to say thanks to Jism for being such a loyal and interactive reader. The rest of you, get with the program!

Okay, so I guess the appropriate thing to do would be to catch you up on the happenings of my life. In the spirit of the Tone shot, though, I’m going to do the super-accelerated version. Annnnnd go!

Christmas was awesome. Animaniacs, Danger Mouse, music stand, shirts. No Strong Bad related gifts (booooo). Good food. Good family time. Trip to Michigan (driving through Buckeye Nation. Ugh).

New Years was also awesome. Saw the special lady friend, took her to a concert on New Year’s. Gnarls Barkley = freakin’ sweet. Flaming Lips = freakin’ weird.

Work is work. I make drawings. No one uses them. I write documents. No one uses them. At least we’ll be moving out of our sweatshop environment soon.

Swimming class two nights a week is kicking my ass. Once I figure out the breathing, I should be good. Concert band is also kicking my ass. Too much downtime is bad for the embouchure. E-fest makes for awesome Thursday nights. Studying for CCNA certification when I have down-time.

Matthias’s birthday fest one weekend. INCOSE conference the next. All day college hoops when I don’t have anything planned. Went to see Ginger this weekend. Northern Indiana = freakin’ cold.

Well, that about sums it up. I’ll see if I can’t go into more details in the near future. I’m about to get on a plane back to LA, so maybe I can bang out a few posts during the flight.

Oose.

Christmas Wish List

2006-12-06T18:59:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again, and to help out my loyal readers I have compiled a list of gifts you can buy me for Christmas this year. Be warned, though; the awesomeness of these gifts is so great that you may become jealous and want to buy them for yourself. This is permitted, but only after purchasing said gift for me first. (click on the pictures to go to a website where you can purshase said items)

1. Animaniacs on DVD

Hellooooooooo Nurse!! Sweet freaking crapticles, Animaniacs is finally out on DVD! Endless hours of my childhood were "wasted" watching this spectacle of comedic genius and I feel it is partly to blame for my sick and twisted sense of humor. The rest of the blame lies squarely on the shoulders of my father (those of you who have met the man can attest to this). One of my favorite scenes from the show was set to the story of Anastasia, and Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were driving around in shriner buggies inside the royal castle. The butler yells at them, "SLOW DOWN!", to which Yakko replies, "Why? Everyone else here is Russian."

2. Kick-the-Cheat Doll

Okay, so I'm a few year behind on this one and some of you already own this item, but it doesn't diminish the awesomeness of it! I mean, why don't I already have one of these? Or any homestarrunner.com merchandise, for that matter? I freaking introduced all of you to Strong Bad over 5 years ago! What's up with that? All of you had opportunities to get me a shirt with Trogdor on it, or a Bear Holding a Shark hooded sweatshirt. But noooo. Jeez, some friends you are.

PS - this one freaked out my mom when I sent it to her as a gift idea. "What is this website you sent me to?!"

3. Shirts

Okay, okay. So shirts are not that awesome of a gift. But they do cover up my lack of chest hair and flabby abs, so in a way they're pretty awesome. And unless you are Nips, you probably like shirts, too. And if don't, too bad becuase I nee new ones. So back off, or I'll punch you in the face!

If none of those items rocked your effin' socks off, then hold on to your underpants, for I give you the greatest gift idea. Ever.

4. Bacon of the Month Club

Holy hog-meat, Batman! Is it really true? Some genius decided to form a club for bacon lovers (read: "everyone"). Imagine, a new type of bacon delivered to your doorstep every month! Hickory smoked for January, lightly salted for June, extra fatty come November. Oh man, my mouth is watering now just thinking about it.

As a member, you get more than just a new bacon every month. Check out all this awesome bacon related paraphernalia!

Informative notes on all bacon selections
Discounts on Grateful Palate bacon products and bacons
Bacon of the Month Club Membership Card
The Bacon Strip—Our monthly bacon comic strip for members only
The Bacon of the Month Club Pig Ballpoint Pen
A Little Rubber Toy Pig
One free Bacon Tee-Shirt

I haven't been this giddy about a possible gift in ages. Sweet dear baby Jesus, wrapped in swaddling clothes, how better can I celebrate your birth than with a year's supply of tasty bacon?

Just call me Goat, J.D.

2006-12-04T22:19:00.000-08:00

The "J.D." stands for juris duticus, which is Latin for "one who serves jury duty." Or in my case, doesn't. Yup, so far the extent of my first ever jury duty has been to call the number on the summons only to be told not to show up. Three more days of this and I will have officially served my country as a worthwhile and participating citizen. Now I just need to register to vote...

I'm actually pretty bummed they haven't had a need for my service. I mean, what could be better than getting paid full salary to sit and listen to a trial. It's got to be at least as interesting as my current job, but moreso because it's different. There would probably be some semi-attractive ladies to ogle, which would be a large improvement over my place of employment.

Besides, I'd like to see the inner workings of our penal system (shut up, Booter). Mom has worked for lawyers my entire life, yet I have never seen a real trial in a real court. Plus, this way I would have something to talk about with my law school friends. Lord knows they don't want to talk about engineering with me, but I figure if I make the effort, who knows? Maybe they'll reciprocate. I'm not holding my breath, though.

Weekend becomes eclectic

2006-12-03T19:02:00.000-08:00

If weekends were deities, then this one would have have been omnipresent because I was all over LA. Okay, so mabe not omni-present, but maybe a localized version of it. But that's what happens when you hang out good ol' Gilbert. The man is the definition of a Rennaissance Man.

It all starts with some excellent sailing on the South Bay. We took out a 25-foot boat from Marina del Rey. It wasn't very windy so there weren't many boats out, which turned out to be a good thing since Gilbert wanted to teach me sailing techniques. We did all kinds of tacking, jibing, man-overboard drills, and I learned all about points of sail, luffing, and air foils.

Looking at the water was pretty depressing, though. There was a lot of floating litter and it was definitely Red Tide. For those of you who don't know about Red Tide, it's basically when a lot of red-hued algae begins growing in the water, and it usually only happens in the summer when the water is warmer. But with all the run off, the algae has more bacteria to feed on (or at least that's how I understand it). Honestly, it's not hard to see why Californians are eco-crazy. Now they just need to stop talking and start doing.

Enough with the hippy talk (what am I becoming?). After paddling our asses back into the harbor (I told you there wasn't much wind), we hurried downtown to go see The Nutcracker with a group of Gilbert's friends. This may seem like normal behavior for mst of you, but it didn't seem to quite fit in my mind, mainly because I was out on a sailboat in shorts and short-sleeves, soaking in the warm sunshine. It does not feel like Christmas here. Not one bit.

The ballet was performed by a touring Korean Ballet company called Universal Ballet. (I said "ballet" a lot in that last sentence. Ballet.) There were some interesting interpretations -- Jess was angry that Clara did not throw her shoe at the Rat King, but used a pillow instead. Who throws a pillow, honestly? I also found out that little girls are supposed to wear a red velvet dress when going to see The Nutcracker. Apparently none of the mothers in Los Angeles were aware of this fact as we only saw one girl following said rule. I'm not entirely convinced that this is in fact a rule; part of me thinks Jess was pulling my leg.

We had yet to eat dinner so we hit up the Daily Grill diner downtown after the show. We go there a few minutes before ten, which was good since they were about to close. I feasted on a delicious (and expensive) filet mignon. I highly recommend the restaurant if you need a place to go on a date and can afford it. Our waiter was pretty cool, too. She (like so many other in this town) was from the midwest and was out here trying to get into the film industry. We ended up having a good conversation with her and tried to get her to sit down and join us (we were the only table left) to no avail.

It was about 11:30 by the time we finished and nobody was quite ready to leave. So we headed across the street to the Westin Bona Vista hotel to ride the glass elevators that went along the outside of the buildling. We tried to get seats at the Bona Vista Lounge at the top (35th floor) which rotates and has a cool view of the city. The 45-minute wait was too long for our taste so we headed back down to the lobby bar instead. After one round, we were all ready to call it a night.

It was pretty sweet getting to see more of downtown LA. There's definitely a lot of stuff to do there, but surprisingly not a lot of people there. Jess claims this another point proving her argument that LA isn't a real city (she grew up in Jersey and went to college in Chicago). Sure, it's not the same as those places, but there's definitely stuff to do. And I plan to find out more.

Sporting Bads

2006-11-30T23:24:00.000-08:00

A new shopping center just opened up here in El Segundo and there's a Chick's Sporting Goods store in it. I've never heard of Chick's before, but I have heard of Dick's Sporting Goods which is a huge chain back in the Midwest.

Of course, I began to ponder to similar names and this question popped in my head. If Chick's Sporting Goods merged with Dick's Sporting Goods, would it be called "Chicks with Dicks Sporting Goods?"

I can't find my eff-ing phone

2006-11-30T18:53:00.000-08:00

I can't find my eff-ing phone. I took it to work this morning, and now I have no idea where it is. I know I took it to work this morning because I succintly remember coming running back up the stairs this morning because I had forgotten said phone and my sunglasses. After that, I have no recollection of seeing my phone at all.

So maybe it didn't make it to work at all. Maybe it escaped out of my pocket on the walk between my apartment and my car, filled with ambitions of travelling to cell phone paradise, where all the lady cell phones are slinder, shiny and sexy -- like RAZRs. Who knows?

But I do have some faint memory of placing it on top of a box of push-pins on my desk at work. I can't be sure, though, because that might have been yesterday. Or maybe the day before. That's what happens when you stare at the same monitor at the same desk in the same room for 9 hours a day: the days all mush together.

Yet when I went to leave today, my phone was nowhere to be found. I looked EVERYWHERE. I looked on my desk. I looked on my co-workers' desk. I looked on my boss's desk. I looked on the floor. Then I went out and looked in my car. I called the damn thing like 6 times, but never heard it ring. Or buzz, seeing as how I keep it in vibrate mode (shut up, Booter).

I have no eff-ing idea where my phone is.

I am my own worst enemy.

Hump Day

2006-11-29T20:20:00.000-08:00

So, it's Wednesday night and I'm chillin' alone at home. I decided to make my famous spaghetti ragu sauce because I've been eating like shit since Thanksgiving (which was awesome) and even added a bottle of delicious Chianti (which just so happens to be the first wine I ever remember imbibing). I didn't want to turn on the TV because all I do all day is stare at a monitor, but I reluctantly flipped it on to find my favorite sport of all -- college basketball. UNC throughly handled the Worthless Nuts of OSU as Sloopy couldn't quite hang on. Well done, Tarheels.

I can't tell you how excited I am about basketball season. After being at the ND-USC game last Saturday in the crappiest seats I've ever paid for, I'm pretty much ready for football season to be over with. Sure, there's a bowl game coming up and it looks like the Irish might be playing here in sunny California at the Rose Bowl, but as scripture says, "To every thing there is a sesaon," and now it's basketball season. The sad thing is, I haven't even been able to really follow my favorite teams so far this year. The Irish are 4-1 last I heard, falling only to potential bracket-buster Butler, and Louisville is 1-1 after a close loss to the Dayton Flyers. I'm not sure if either team will amount to much this year, but one can sure hope. Even so, it's nice jsut to get to watch college hoops again.

Thanksgiving back in Kentucky was super-sweet and filled with old-fashioned family goodness. It started out a little rough as I came down with a sinus infection a few days before my flight to the Bluegrass. Turns out like the past three years I've come down with something (sinusitis, bronchitis, etc.) right before Thanksgiving, and all three years I've gone to the same doctor. I think next year I'm just going to eat a whole bottle of Flinstones vitamins every day the week before Thanksgiving. Then maybe I'll be well for the holiday. Or if not, I'll have rainbow-colored boot. But I digress.

Got to see Shannon, John, and the nephews, who are now 6 and 4, and 52" and 42" tall, respectively. Much to their chagrin, they were tormented with kisses from Ginger. Uncle Goat might have instigated the whole mess by wrapping up the boys so they couldn't escape their would-be koodie infector. If there's one thing young boys hate, it's kisses. Man; so naive, those boys. They'll learn better someday.

Mom made another delicious turkey with all the fixins one would expect at Thanksgiving (minus the Corn Pudding and Crescent Rolls - what's up with that?). Ginger and I gorged ourselves thoroughly - so much so that we didn't even have anything for dinner (meal was at lunch time). Ginger had made a request for the cornbread stuffing balls Mom is famous for, so Mom made like 36 of them. I think Ginger finished off the leftovers of them by Sunday night. I think that's a testament both to Mom's cooking and Ginger's eating abilities.

I also got to see Grandma and my Uncle Wayne while I was home, which was good since I hadn't seen them since the last time I was home in May. It's amazing how quickly time goes by because it seemed like it was just a month or so ago when I saw them last. Scary. Grandma is doing well, but not as well as she has been. Although, she's 88 years old (to the day, in fact!), so I'd say she's doing pretty damn good!

Now that Thanksgiving's over, I'm back in the groove at work and it doesn't seem too bad. I think the break was just what I needed. And I'm almost done with the Dark Tower series (I know, it's been forever, but I've read other books in between), so that's pretty sweet, too. It's been a pretty sweet night, too, and now I think I'm spent. Sayonara, suckers.

100th post!

2006-11-09T16:52:00.000-08:00

It was a long time in the making, but it's finally here... my 100th post! And now, I give you: one hundred of these things -- | -- which look like posts.

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Wow, that was awesome.

By (not-so-) popular demand

2006-11-09T16:44:00.000-08:00

I give you the official Rashanda update. Rashanda is alive and well in an impound lot in San Diego. I only know this because the nice lady at the U.S. Customs office told me so. And that's all that I know about the situation.

I filed a petition to have the car returned to my possession and it arrived at U.S. Customs on Halloween, so now all I can do is wait and hope. If the agency in charge of my security clearance is any indication of the speed with which government offices work, it will be about 2 years and 4 resubmittals of my petition before they make a decision. And now that the libbies are in office, might as well add another year. But I'm not allowed to complain about that because I'm a terrible American and I'm not registered to vote, hence allowing the libbies to take control. But at least I'm still the nicest person Pangle knows.

Rashanda is alive!!

2006-10-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

They found my car!!

Thank you, sweet Baby Jesus, wrapped in your swaddling clothes with your little baby halo. Thank you for bringing back my Rashanda safely! I can only hope that the drug smugglers who tried to force her to carry 60 kilos of hooch into the US didn't treat her too poorly. Rashanda probably turned the low-lifes in when they got to the border, passing a note to the border guard that said "These fuckers are trying to slip one by you, Mack, so you better give 'em a little taste of your night stick. Probably wouldn't hurt to throw in a little mace and some taser action. Sure, in reality they're pretty stupid (trying to get ganja past you and all), but I'm sure you can convince your boss that they were unruly and threatening, and needed the extra punishme-- err, restraint." Wow, apparently Rashanda is one verbose, vindictive vehicle. And I like alliteration.

To put it succintly, US Customs and Border Protection has my car and now I have to convince them to give it back to me. I'm sure the next few days are going to be as fun as the ones that immediately preceded the car getting stolen. We're not out of the water yet, but we can at least see the surface from here. Let's just hope she's still in tip-top shape, or close enough that the insurance will get her back there.

I'm comin' for you, baby!

Positive Wednesday

2006-10-04T20:40:00.000-07:00

It's been four days since my car was stolen in Mexico, so I've decided that today I will look at the positives. And go.

Montezuma is finished exacting revenge.
I don't have to move the Honda for the street sweepers tomorrow
4 day weekend!
Replacement cell phone has arrived and is finally functioning (send me you phone numbers, I lost them all)
I still have the Mustang. And it's still eff-ing awesome.
Stanford sucks ass, ensuring a victory for the Irish this weekend.
Oh-so-delicious Tone Triple Shots will soon be upon us.
Looking forward to Mothball somehow getting wrecked this weekend.
Rooster called Mothball's car gay in an email today. That never gets old.
Rooster's mom is hot (sorry Cahk, that never gets old either)
Baseball is almost over (Thank Jebus)
Friday is payday
Lost is back! (Kate is hot. The sky is blue. All truisms. But not altruisms)

Okay, that's it for now. Stay tuned for more awesome Goat posts.

Wow. Goat posts. That. sounds. really. wrong.

And I'm spent.

I want my Rashanda back

2006-10-03T20:21:00.000-07:00

This weekend I made the trek down to Mexico with 9 of my good friends for the biennial Rosarito-Ensenada 50-mile bike ride. Spirits were high as we packed up the cars Friday night and stopped at Chipotle for some awesome carb-loading burritos. "Carb-loading burritos?" you say. "Shut up," I say. We spent the night at a lovely Days Inn (which sounds like an oxymoron) in San Diego, where the men's room discussed which male character on Lost is more jacked and which female character we'd most like to bang. We can only assume the women's room hosted a naked pillow fight. We happen to know for a fact that three of them slept in the same bed, a point which prompted a moment of silence during the discussion in the men's room.

After a delicious breakfast at the Pam Pam Restaurant, we were off to Mexico. The ride went great, including the multiple beers consumed during said ride (you can't drink the water, right?). So anywho, we make it Ensenada after about five hours (3:08 on the bikes), get us some celebratory tacos and cervezas, and jump on the shuttle back to the cars.

Only here's the kicker: my car's not there. Rashanda the Honda (a name which I apparently shared with anyone until this weekend) had been stolen! Who would have ever thought, what with the Mexican stereotype being seen as lazy and tired all the time? You'd think they'd be busy with siestas and whatnot. But no, apparently they're wiley little fucks who want nothing more than to steal things from the tourists who come to support their economy.

Okay, calm down. Sorry, but those of you who know me well know that I have no respect for petty thieves. It gets under my skin like almost nothing else in this world. (My apologies on the broad generalism of Mexicans, Lizett - I'm sure your family isn't like that)

So then the fun begins. We wave over a cop and tell him what happened (after fighting through the language barrier). He tells me I have to file a report at the "Administrative Public" and gives me cryptic instructions on how to get there. Of course, the only form of transportation I have is my bike. So I start biking in the general direction he pointed. Half and hour or so later I finally find the place -- four shady miles away.

Once again, I find out that I should have taken Spanish in high school. After a long time (and with the help of some Good Samaritans) I finally get the report filed while my buddy Gilbert has been talking to the Mexican insurance company. Thankfully, I bought a full policy for the day trip.

We originally noticed the car missing around 8:30pm. I finally left Mexico at 3:00am and didn't arrive home until 6:00am. All in all, an awful experience.

Oh, and Monday I came down with Montezuma's Revenge. Fucking Mexico.

Welcome, Autumn

2006-09-24T12:42:00.000-07:00

Summer's officially over. As Fall was approaching, I was a bit sad about the transition, but as of often happens in life, you come to the realization that whether or not you want something to happen, it's the natural order of things. So here we are, jumping off the blocks into a pretty awesome Autumn.

As if to wisk away my worries about the terminal nature of the high season, this weekend featured all the best parts of the harvest season. El Segundo held its annual Richmond Street fair, which reminded me more of hom back in Kentucky than anything out here has. All kinds of vendors selling clothes, trinkets, home remedies -- mostly stuff no one has any good reason to buy. Top it off with some games and good food and you have a hell of a little festival. I was definitely craving an Italian sausage (shut up, Booter) with onions and green peppers, a delicacy I always got for free from my sister and brother-in-law when they would work a booth at the various fairs in Kentuckiana. And funnel-cakes. Man, it's not a festival unless you have a funnel cake. Yum.

As if to say fairwell to the dog-days of Summer, Saturday afternoon we had ourselves a nice little barbeque in the park. Some excellent frisbee action followed by tossing around the pigskin (it is Fall, you know). The menu: bratwursts. Yum. Follow it all up with one hell of a football game (which was only a few plays from being one hellish football game) and you have a pretty sweet seasonal transition.

As for the past few weeks, life has been pretty good. I got to go back to Purdue to recruit for my company and I turned it into a five day vacation with Ginger. That's probably the longest I've gotten to see her in one trip since I moved to California. It was great just to get to hang out with her and all of my Purdue friends again. Add that to a DC-area trip (sorry we missed each other, Jism) two weeks prior and I've seen Ginger almost as much as my roommates the past month.

Summer - you've been great. But now it's Fall's turn. Bring it.

Dude, where's my team?

2006-09-16T17:13:00.000-07:00

Charlie Weis, I had almost forgotten what an inept offense looked like. Since your arrival in the Bend, passes started getting caught, blocks were being made, and points were going on the board. But today, for the first time since the West Coast offense went back to the West Coast with Tyrone, I started to hate wathing Notre Dame footall.

It's not entirely your fault. I'm sure you're asking the same question all the fans are asking: "Where was the Notre Dame team that knows how to play?" First, let me give credit where credit is due. Michigan played a hell of a game and was definitely the far superior team (I just threw up in my mouth a little when I typed that). But Notre Dame's football team never showed up. Instead we got a comedy of errors and a display in mediocrity.

Some of the blame rests on the secondary, which is to be expected, but the rest definitely falls squarely on the shoulders of the offense. I'm no expert when it comes to football, but I can only imagine what the outcome of the game might have been had the offense had made even half the mistakes. Michigan probably would have still won, but we wouldn't be the laughing stock of football right now.

Grrr....

PS - I hate Clifford Jefferson.

Baltimore. Applecore!

2006-09-06T21:38:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I got to travel out to the east coast for a nice break from reality. And the best part is, the company paid for it! Sure, I had to do some work related stuff for a day or two, but the rest of the time I spent with Ginger, so I came out on top. Booya!

Most of weekend was pretty chill. Ginger and I did a lot of sleeping in as she had a tough last week at her internship. We ate some delicious food (which always makes her happy), watched a funny movie or two (Talladega Nights), saw an Irish victory (Oose!), and drank some delicious beer (Yuengling). We even did some cool touristy stuff like going to the National Aquarium. This, of course, made Ginger hungry for seafood, so we followed up with some more delicious food.

Speaking of the Irish victory, was that not the saddest dislay of offense since the Tyrone Willingham era? Enough has already been written about this by people who have a lot more time on their hands, so I'll just say this. I fully expect to whoop up on JoePa and his zombies. BRAAAINNS!!

Oh, by the way, no one says "Baltimore. Applecore!" except for my roommate Phil. No one.

Good quality workplace humor

2006-08-23T00:17:00.000-07:00

Me:	"What's German for 'loser'?"
Coworker:	"France"

Only 3 more days until the weekend...

I told you it would be mine

2006-08-21T22:57:00.000-07:00

And it is. Behold!

Teach your parents well

2006-08-21T22:03:00.000-07:00

To continue our adventure backwards in time, we now continue with "Parentesque II: better than Parentesque I". I can assure you now that, while I thought my parents' visit was awesome, this tale will not be as exciting or hilarious as Strong Bad's "Dangeresque" series. But on with the story!

It was a beautiful summer day in Southern California when the wheels of the airplane carrying my parents squealed on the tarmac of the LAX runway. The clear skies and sunshine made sure it was warm, but the briny Pacific breeze ensured it wasn't too hot. You might even say the temperature was just right. But then you would be Goldilocks, and I would punch you in the face. Needless to say, after 2 straight weeks of near 100 degree temperatures and high humidity, the parents were thoroughly pleased.

And now, for the sake of saving time so I can go to bed sooner, I'm going to abandon the storybook format of this post. Onward!

Parents arrived on that Wednesday night, but unfortunately I had to work through the week. Each night, though, we met up and had some sort of delicious dinner at the various dining establishments in downtown El Segundo. Thursday night I treated them both to a show at the Hollywood Bowl, where we heard a wonderful performance of Gustav Holst's The Planets, which just so happens to be one of my favorite symphonies. Friday night was more low key; merely a chill visit to the local bookstore where Mom looked for a new knitting book and dad looked at photography books. Why not travel 2000 miles to do something you can do at home? Because your doing that something with your son, that's why. Shut yer big yapper.

Saturday we made up for the lack-lust performance the night before by driving down to Whale's Vagina. I mean, San Diego. Three and a half hours later, we arrived. Let me tell you, LA drivers have nothing on San Diego drivers. They suck. Anyhow, we made our way to Point Loma to check out the lighthouse that protects the harbor. We used to always check out lighthouses while on vacations on the east coast, so it was definitely very cool. If my dad ever uploads the pictures from his camera, I'll post them. Next, we made our way over to Coronado, which requires driving over a very large bridge. My mom gets freaked out by big bridges. Good times. Walked around the town, saw a wedding on the beach, got some dinner on the harbor, drove home. Good day.

Sunday I had a concert with my community band and I even had a solo! Parents came and got to see me perform, just like old times. Then we went to NDCLA Young Alum dorm mass where we constituted 20% of the attendees. Add Pangle to the mix and we push up to 25%. Way to show up for God, Irish alums!

Monday was BBQ and game night, with tasty steaks and corn on the cob followed by an intense game of Scrabble. Booter trailed up until the last second when he pulled out a double "FA" on a bouble-word score square. Wanker. Tuesday night we grilled out again; this time it's delicious pork chops. Follow it up with some hanging out and you have a pretty good end to the visit.

And so ends this tail. Now it is time for your humble narrator to go to sleep.

The Key to a 2,000-mile Relationship

2006-08-15T21:39:00.000-07:00

or "Investing in produce"

Two weekends ago my super-awesome girlfriend came out to the City of Angels for some good ol' quality time. Which was a good thing, seeing as how it had been 7 weeks since our last weekend together. Granted, she was planning on coming out here sooner, but that's a story for another post. So get off my back, already!

We decided to start the weekend off right as soon as she landed, so we headed straight to the bar for 2-for-1 pints. Awesome! And I bet you thought I was going to say something naughty. Sicko. This is a child-friendly blog.

I finally got fed up with my old laptop that weekend, so I decided to go looking for a new one with Ginger. Sure, it might not sound like something a long distance girlfriend would want to do on her first visit ini 7 weeks, but Ginger's not your average girlfriend and I didn't tell you all the details. I've been interested in Macs for a while and Ginger's a huge fan of Macs, so who better to take with me? Long story short, I bought a MacBook and left Microsoft out in the gutter to rot. Take that, Bill Gates! Well, technically, I still have to use it at work and everywhere else, but at home I'm free! FREE!! (Okay, so sometimes I still miss XP, but I'm sure it'll pass, right? Time heals all?) Afterwards, Ginger finds a pair of earrings that look uber-hot with her new dress she brought along. She didn't want to buy them because they cost as much as a steak dinner, so I told her I would buy her a steak dinner if she wanted to get them. She couldn't resist the lure of a free steak.

Ginger's sufficiently excited now, so we jump in the car and drive up to the Ventura County Fair to see Big Bad Voodoo Daddy in concert! Plus, we're at the fair so there's delicious food EVERYWHERE! Oh man, I love fair food. Italian & Polish sausages, funnel cakes, roasted corn on the cob, the list never ends! Ginger and I get a funnel cake and devour it before the show. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy takes the stage and rocks the joint. Ginger and I get up and do a little swing dancing -- which was more like spinning around in circles there for a bit, but we got better with a little practice. Needless to say, I need to take some lessons. Oh, the pictures above are Gingersnaps (left) and Ginger snaps (right). Her idea, not mine (surprisingly).

Sunday we head down to the beach where Ginger catches some rays while I catch some waves. The waves were pretty big and I actually got wrecked -- one wave pushed me face-first into the ocean floor giving me a nice bloody lip. Now, I've never heard of any shark attacks in the South Bay, but I wasn't going to risk bleeding in the Pacific. Later I cooked up a nice juicy steak for my girl like I promised. Good times, all around.

Next installment: "Teach your parents well"

Back in . . . black?

2006-08-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

So when I get an IM from Jism asking for a post, I know it's been way too long since I've written in this blog. Tonight's IM: "is nothing fun going on in your life?" Well, it's funny you ask. Fact is, life's been so busy and full of fun stuff that I haven't had any time to blog (or if I have, I found better ways to fill that time). To make up for lost time, I will attempt to post every day this week about events of the past month, Memento style. Let's stick this thing in reverse!

Steve and Christey came in town last week for a week in nice weather before returning to the tundra of Northern Indiana for another year at Purdue. We celebrated by getting some delicious Mexican food at Gilbert's El Indio Restaurant in Santa Monica, and then hit up Brennan's for some turtle racing. Nothing better than a bunch of drunk people circled around a mat with turtles on it, trying not to point at them (you get fined if you do). Good times.

Former PLACErs and fellow Domers Mac & Eliz flew in from Chicago this weekend for some quality time with Booter and other PLACE Corps peeps. End result: quality times. Went to Booter's sketch comedy show ("Diving for Chickens") where we got to see him play a man avoiding a hooker, shout "PENIS! PENIS! PENIS!", and play a transvestite -- not all at once, mind you. Follow that up with some Beirut (beer pong) and Cups and you have a hell of a Friday night. I would just like to say that Booter still has mad one-flip skills, while I'm averaging a modest filp and a quarter average. Not bad for a several year hiatus.

After a year of saving up, I decided Saturday to start test-driving cars. Anyone who knows me knows that I've been mad about the Mustang for two years now, but I decided to check out some other cars first. Gilbert tagged along and we hit up a couple Pontiac dealerships. I've had my eye on the Solstice, a little two-seater convertible with a sleak body design. It took a while to find a dealer that had one we could take out for a spin, but it was wortht he wait. Fun little car with a zippy little 4-banger -- nothing that will throw you back into your seat, though. My biggest complaint was that it was too small. Two seats is all you get, and when the top is down you lose all trunk space, too. After this weekend, I've pretty much ruled out all two-seaters.

Next we tried out the G6 convertible. Check this, it's a hardtop convertible and the roof folds in half and goes into the trunk. Nice car, good umph-factor from the V6 engine, lots of room in the back seat for your bros or hos, and the coolness factor of a convertible. However, it doesn't come in a manual transmission and you lose the trunk space with the top down. Still an option, but at the bottom of the list.

The real surprise of the night was the GTO. I hadn't even given this car a thought, but the salesman showed me the only one they had in the showroom. This thing has got a 6.0L V8 engine (same as the Corvette) pumping 400 horses! I wasn't allowed to test drive it because GM apparently just discontinued production and it's become a rare item among dealers, so they want to keep the mileage down. Gilbert said he drove one at a driving event and highly recommended it. Costs about the same as a Mustang GT and packs more punch. Might have to take a serious look at this one.

Saturday night was poker night at the Sheldon Chateau. We started with 10 and I made it to the final four before getting bored and betting erracticly on hands that had no business being bet on. Who goes all in on ace-nine suited? Honestly. (Actually, I won that hand, but pissed some people off). Needless to say, my chips disappeared quickly and I got to go to bed sooner. Oose!

Other fun events that happened this weekend: started online traffic school to counter my speeding ticket, got my God on at mass, broke in my new running shoes (which didn't help my knee like they were supposed to), and went surfing.

That's about it for this past weekend. If you enjoyed today's post, stay tuned for tomorrow's: "The Key to a 2,000-Mile Relationship"!

ps - This post's title means nothing. NOTHING!

Striking Resemblance

2006-07-12T09:18:00.000-07:00

I do believe I have found my Doppelganger, and it appears that he is Mexican...

(that's a goat, in case you couldn't put two and two together)

In other news, the stupidity of extremists is what gives good causes bad names. Being driven by passion is great, but people really need to think before they open their yaps. Sheesh.

Breaking News!!

2006-07-10T09:54:00.000-07:00

This just in...

Engineers Engage in Anti-Social Behaviour
by Goat, Field Reporter

Orlando, FL - Tensions were high at the INCOSE Symposium today. Armed with free box lunches, approximately 200 engineers were corraled into the same conference room to attend the New Member Welcome & Orientation. Your humble narrator was included in this mass and survived to tell you this unremarkable story.

As one of the first to arrive, I had my choice of seats. I could only assume the purpose of this lunch was for all the scared, inhibited new members to get a chance to meet other people in the same boat. As one of the first to arrive, I used this assumption to place myself in a central location -- not too close to the front, but not in the back, either -- where my fellow newbies could easily make eye contact and commence networking.

It therefore came as a surprise when I noticed that not only were people not sitting near me -- did I smell? -- but that they weren't even sitting next to each other! In a wholly expected display of event, the socially clumsy introverts avoided contact with others.

One can only imagine what will happen at tonight's "Opening Ice-Breaker."

Related Stories:
- Engineers excited by NASA presentation
- Middle-aged Male Engineers Find Selves Attracted to Semi-attractive Female Engineer
- Symposium Participant Leaves Mixer to Check Status of Lab

Orlando, baby! ORLANDO!!

2006-07-09T15:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it doesn't havet he same ring as "Vegas," but it's where I am currently and so it's what I'm going to write about. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Before I get to deep into the details, let me give you the context. I requested that my company send me to the INCOSE Symposium, which probably means nothing to you, so in layman's terms it's a conference on Systems Engineering. Come to think of it, that also probably means nothing to you. And yet you will continue reading.

Day 1: Saturday

Travel days: is there any better way to waste an entire day? Yes. Sleeping in my super comfy bed all day is one. Skipping out on work and surfing all day would be another. I don't even think I need to mention the barrel of monkeys. Flight was bumpy and I was stuck in the back of the plane in tiny seats (I appreciate Business Class so much more now), but I still managed to catch a couple winks. And the best part is that when I woke up there was a blonde bombshell standing right in front of me waiting for the bathroom (Sorry GiGi; I don't get to see eye candy very often -- see Day 2).

Rental car place took forever, but only because I wanted to see if they had any cars with manual transmissions (gonna start test driving cars soon and I don't want to look like an ass), but alas, they don't carry them because people would eff up the transmissions. I guess a lot of other people had my same idea.

Get to the hotel and realize why it's called the Florida Mall Hotel: it's attached to a mall. Who'da thunk? The room is pretty sweet; king size bed, mini-fridge, and best of all, a 32" LCD TV. There are worse things in the world than business travel. After fajitas and beer at Chili's, I'm ready for bed.

Day 2: Sunday

First day of symposium events. This may come as a shock to you, but this paragraph probably won't be very exciting. Okay, for those of you still reading let's continue! Alarm went off at 6:30am, which is 3:30am my time, so I can assure you I'm chipper as a chipmunk. It's a half hour drive to the hotel where the symposium is held (it was booked when I finally got approval to travel). Then it's on to two 4-hour tutorials.

I'm sitting in the first tutorial and during a slow point I decide to look around and investigate the audience. In my mind before I flew out I imagined several engineers about the same age as me would also be in attendance. Boy was I wrong. The average age of the crowd must have been in the early 40s, easy. The ones who were my age were foreign -- French or German or Dutch. Awesome. I'm staying in a hotel 20 miles from the conference and there aren't any people my age to hang out with. Who's gonna be bored at night all week? *thumbs pointed inward* This guy!

Shared a table at lunch with a guy who went to USC who now lives in Vermont and a guy from Finland who works for Nokia. Conversation was of the nerdy variety, which is okay by me since I am a nerd and I'm at a nerdy conference. I actually learned some things about engineering in the public sector (as opposed to the aerospace sector).

All in all, the two tutorials were quite educational. And when they got slow I pulled out the laptop and kept up with the World Cup final. By end of the game I had people leaning over asking for the score. (Side note: Suck it, Frogs. Viva Italia!)

I'm back at the hotel after a delicious steak at Outback, watching Gladiator on TNT. Connie Nielsen (Lucilla) is hot. Maximus is a badass. Speaking of movies with hot women and badasses, I haven't seen The Count of Monte Cristo in a long time. Might have to go buy that one.

Stay tuned this week for more exciting posts!

Avast, marmots!

2006-06-28T13:24:00.000-07:00

The community band I play in recently changed practice venues to a different high school. As I'm getting ready for practice to start last night, I look over and see the Euphonium locker at the back of the room. Curiosity gets the best of me and I take a peek inside. Little did I expect to find a picture displaying hilartity of pee-in-the-pants proportions.

I give you... the Pirate Beaver.

This raises so many questions! Why is he stabbing the fairy? When he gets hungry, does he nibble on his peg-leg? We may never know. What we do know is that the artist possessed the unbridled genius inherent only to those of the Tone clan. Hats off to you, euphonium players of Edison High School in Fountain Valley, California.

PS - Fear not, I will return your picture at our next practice.

Straddling the line

2006-06-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

Ah, nothing like using the title of a blog post to reference a quote by a band director at ND who was before my time and I never met. I fully expect Mal or Ball to make some comment about said quote, though. Maybe even Jism, too!

And now, to explain my seemingly nonsensical practice in paraphasing.

I have just taken a highly scientific, extremely accurate political survey to determine just how conservative or liberal I really am. I must say, I was really hoping for something along the lines of "You could be Rush's understudy." Sadly, I got something different.

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 55% Conservative, 45% Liberal

Social Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 75% Conservative, 25% Liberal

Ethics: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 100% Conservative, 0% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?

Look at me! My political views are more bipolar than a pregnant woman on steroids during her period! What can this possibly mean? Should I start my own party? Will the two sides of my political soul continue to fight each other until it rips itself apart? Even worse, will one side win out? And what if it's the liberal side? I think from those results that I can rest assured that as long as money is still part of society, I'm safe from the last possibility.

Sarcasm aside: As with any polls or quiz, you have to step back and question the bias of the author. Obviously, this was written by an extremist -- someone who only paints in black and white. A friend told me it has more conservative undertones. Beats me. All in all, though, it scored me pretty accurately -- moderate right. (I was joking about the Rush stuff)

Take me to your leader!

2006-06-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

With all the talk about illegal aliens in the U.S. lately, someone at MSNBC thought it prudent to put up a sample of the U.S. Citizenship test so anyone can test their knowledge of this fair country. At first I thought, "What a great idea!" But when I clicked on the link I immediately became a bit worried, seeing as how history was never my strong point. Lo and behold, though, I ended up getting an 18/20 on the quiz! Booya. Thank heavens I know at least as much about the United States as a naturalized immigrant.

Care to test your citizenship?

FYI - I missed the question on constitutional ammendments address voting, and the one about the INS form.

Summer Reading List

2006-06-20T15:41:00.000-07:00

Since graduating and starting a real job, my liesure reading has increased tenfold (maybe more). Once you start reading, however, you start hearing about more and more books you want to check out. So here's a list of some of the books I'm looking to read in the near future along with a list of the ones I have recently read. The lists are sorted by author, in case you were wondering. Feel free to make suggestions!

Current Dig

The City of Fallen Angels, by John Berendt

On Hold

Hackers: Heroes of the Computer Revolution, by Steven Levy
A Whole New Mind, by Daniel Pink
CCNA INTRO Exam Certification Guide

Future Reads

The Long Tail, by Chris Anderson
Patton: The Man Behind the Legend, 1885-1945, by Martin Blumenson
The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini
Beclouded Visions: Hiroshima-Nagasaki and the Art of Witness, by Kyo MacLear
And the Band Played On, by Randy Shilts
The Miracle of Saint Anthony, by Adrian Wojnarowski
Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid, by Douglas Hofstadter

Recently Finished

World War Z, by Max Brooks
Make Love! (the Bruce Campbell way), by Bruce Campbell
First Meetings in the Enderverse, by Orson Scott Card
The Plague, by Albert Camus
The Fabric of the Cosmos, by Brian Greene
Just Another Soldier, by Jason Christopher Hartley
A Brief History of Time (10th Anniversary Edition), by Stephen Hawking
The Dark Tower I: The Gunslinger, by Stephen King
The Dark Tower II: The Drawing of the Three, by Stephen King
The Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands, by Stephen King
The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass, by Stephen King
The Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla, by Stephen King
The Dark Tower VI: Song of Susannah, by Stephen King
The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower, by Stephen King
The Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson
Freakonomics, by Steven D. Levitt & Stephen J. Dubner
The Alphabet of Manliness, by Maddox
Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling
Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, by David Sedaris
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson
Night, by Elie Wiesel

Fire de Missiles!

2006-06-20T13:44:00.000-07:00

Last week I got to go observe a missile test launch up at Vandenberg AFB courtesy of the rotation program I'm in at work. I can't tell you a whole lot about it and not because it was classified (because most of it was), but mainly because they really didn't tell us too many details. But what I can do is tell you that they fired off one of these bad boys. During the launch I sat in an observation room with another guy in the rotation program and a Lt. Webb (I think that was her rank) who was in charge of the press release that was to go out the next day. During the two hours of waiting for the countdown to finish, we talked about life on base and typical twenty-something stuff. Awesome.

And then there's North Korea over there threatening to do a test launch of one of these not-as-bad boys. While I want nothing of the sort to happen, part of me is excited to get to see our missile defense system in action. After working on this stuff for a year now, it definitely makes watching the news more interesting these days.

Okay, not a very exciting post, nor very humorous. But blame it on my new rotation, which is about as exciting and funny as digging a hole in the ground. Awesome.

SuperTerrificMegaHappyFun Reunion

2006-06-11T20:42:00.000-07:00

This weekend hosted the impromptu yet highly succesful Animal House mini-reunion. In fact, it turned out to be bigger than just the Animal House itself. Along with the former residents -- Ball, Mal, Cahk, Nips and myself -- we were blessed with the company of Moose, Doozer, Cahk's woman, and our favorite falto, Lizett.

The weekend started off smashingly well as we enjoyed the best burger in town at CJ's. T'his was my first Super Pub since the recent demise and rebirth of this fine establishment, and let me tell you, it's still effing awesome. Also, apparently the burger isn't called a Super Pub (I couldn't find one by that name on the menu), so instead I enjoyed a delicous Four Horseman with bacon. Mmmm, bacon. Okay, so it was no Golden Domer, but still a scrumptuous burger, nonetheless.

Next we moved on to Oscar's pool hall for the sole purpose of relieving AniMal of his DD responsibility. God knows none of us wanted to be in the car with him sober, much less drunk. Man, that man can't drive. That's right, Mal, I just told the whole world that you can't drive without and substantiating proof! What are you going to do about it, huh? HUH? Good times were had by all until someone kept farting. I don't know why that person decided to eat a giant mexican burrito the night before traveling cross country to see his college buddies, but rest assured that it will never happen again.

Oh, and for the record, I drank approximately 1 gallon of beer Friday night. Fact. Mothball drank a gallon of beer at CJ's alone, and probably another at Oscar's. Also fact. AniMal is a scrawny white boy with chicken legs. Also also fact.

Went to Chili's for sweet sweet queso and fajitas for lunch Saturday. Nips started explaining all the cool stuff he was working on these days and an extreme dichotomy was evidenced as Moose and I began to get excited and Cahk and Kristine's eyes started to glaze over. Ahh, the engineer effect. Anytime one of us talks about our studies or work, normal people fall into epiplectic siezures followed by a catatonic sleep. Beware. Besides the point, Nips is doing some pretty sweet-ass work and I'm actually jealous of him. I've been at my job for a year now and just when I started to sink my teeth into something interesting and worthwhile, they make me rotate to a new office where there is nothing for me to do. But we'll talk moore about that later.

True to form, Cahk wanted to toss the old disc around in front of Fisher. I'd almost forgotten how much I missed throwing the frisbee around. Playing ultimate last fall was a lot of fall and I'm secretly hoping that my third rotation is in the DC area so that I can join the league again. It wasn't quite the same without Alaska there to make fun of my crappy throws, but I'm sure he and I will remedy that sometime soon. Does Alaska even read my blog? I need to call that kid.

We hit up Kay's for dinner. That place was deserted, which makes no sense seeing as how hot dogs and beer are uber-cheap there. And tasty. I actually didn't have hot dogs since I had a bad experience the last time I had Kay's hot dogs. Jism can vouch. I still blame the Rolling Rock at the trumpet party. So awful. Damn you, Rolling Rock!

Our initial plan for the night was to start drinking, then move to a bar carrying the Zibby fight. Much to our demise, no bars in the town of South Bend were showing the fight! What the eff? So we carried on with the drinking portion of our plan. Cups at Corby’s, Guinness and good music at Fiddler’s, good times at the Oyster Bar, and then back to Corby’s (why, I have no idea). Kristine and I both had a craving for the 24-hour Burger King, so we decided to hit the drive-thru. There are some guys in front of us trying to walk through the drive-thru when we get there, but having no luck. So Kristine (who’s driving) offers to pull up over the sensor. This works, so she backs up to give the guys space. Wham! Well, more like “thump.” Sure enough, hit the car behind us. Cahk jumps out and makes sure everything’s okay and all seems well until we pull up to the window for our food. The cashier says the lady in the car has our license plate number and wants to talk to us, and that the cop working security in the parking lot is coming over. Snap. Things are look bad. Mind you, this is not the safe, clean part of South Bend (does one even exist?), but rather downtown at 1am. Despite our surroundings, Mal is more scared about the fact that there are four people in the backseat, none wearing seatbelts. Awesome. I roll up my window and AniMal says the second-best quote all night: “Good idea Goat. Less talky, more rolly-uppy.” The best quote is not decent for posting on a blog. Long story long, the cop checks to make sure none of us are drunk, then waves us on. You thought the end of that story was going to be much more hilarious, didn’t you? Ha-HA! You were sadly mistaken. Circle gets the square.

That pretty much ends the funny part of this post, so if you don’t like plain stories, skip the rest. For those of you who have been dying for a post by Nostalgic Goat, read on.

This morning I went to mass at the Basilica which was awesome. A little detail I noticed at mass is that they still kneel through the entire Eucharist at ND. When did the rest of the country start standing during it, and why? Afterwards I took a walk around St. Mary’s lake and soaked up all the nature. I must have seen a couple dozen species of birds including an oriole and a blue jay. Best of all was all the green. For those of you who really know me, you know I eat that shit up. I know it might seem weird to post about it, but you have to understand that I don’t get that kind of stuff in California. The place is basically a desert that they’ve pumped water into from all over the West to make it inhabitable. In it’s credit, though, it does have cool marine life like dolphins, sea lions, and the ever-elusive whale.

Walked by Zahm and North Quad on the way back to Ball’s and the memory flood-gates seemed to open up. It’s amazing how just being at a place can bring back so much you hadn’t thought about in a while. Part of me didn’t want to leave today, but I reminded myself that I would be back before I knew it for football season.

Speaking of football, who applied to what games? I’m definitely coming to Stanford, and then either Purdue or UCLA. Also, anyone who wants to go to the USC game in LA is welcome to crash at my place. Unless you’re Remball.

ps - Despite the fact that I took my camera to South Bend, I did not take any pictures. No visual enjoyment for you, suckers. At least not until Doozer sends me some of her pictures.

Crossing 'em off

2006-06-06T08:46:00.000-07:00

Despite the amazingly low number of posts lately, I actually have been doing a lot of stuff, especially on the weekends. And it just so happens that some of those activities were on my list of Things To Do Before Leaving LA. Check 'em out.

Watts Towers

My super awesome girlfriend came out two weekends ago and we decided to tackle a few of the smaller things on the list. First up: the Watts Towers. Back in the 1920s, an Italian immigrant named Simon Rodia started building a "ship" on land out of concrete and broken plates, bottles, mirrors, and other sundrious household items. Some 33 years later his masterpiece was complete; a "ship" complete with three masts (the towers) and a cabin at the back which served as his house.

While we were waiting for the tour, Ginger and I walked into the visitors center which his apparently a political activist safehaven. The whole place was covered with artwork protesting the prison system and bashing the government in general. I'm pretty sure we both had the same thought going through our heads as we walked out two minutes later: "God damn hippies." Not that I don't necessarily appreciate their opinions, but their methods have become trite and overdone. Then on to the tour. We got stuck in with a group of Brits that had to leave 10 minutes after the tour started, so our guide was really pushy. She gave us about 3 minutes to wander the grounds by ourselves, then called us all in to the "gazebo" to read us the poem she wrote for the last seven minutes. Ah, California, land of the self-serving artists. To be honest, the lady must have been a second grade teacher at some point, because that's how I felt I was being treated.

Don't let my bitter recount of the tour deter you though. The towers themselves are actually very cool and worth seeing. It's impressive that one man could be so devoted to his work to spend over 30 years on it, and also to have a creative vision that was decades before its time. Hats off to you, Mr. Rodia. Also, what's really amazing about the Towers is the stark contrast to the neighborhood around them. For those of you who have never lived in LA, Watts is not the nicest of neighborhoods. It's obvious just from visiting the grounds that the area was a lot different when the towers were being built. Urban sprawl had not yet taken place and Rodia's "home" was probably isolated from the nearest homes. Now, it is merely another lot on a street with dozens of other houses, all built on top of each other. In fact, the city originally planned on demolishing Rodia's creation in order to build more houses, but was thwarted when people protested. Lucky for us!

Ferris Wheel on Santa Monica Pier

Okay, so this one was a no-brainer having Ginger in town. Is there anything more fun than making out at the top of a ferris wheel? I propose that there is not. For a mere $9 the two of us were able to take in the awesome view of Santa Monica and the Pacific coastline. To top it all off, we had a delicious funnel cake. Is there anything more delicious than fried dough? I propose that there is not.

The Getty Center

As an advocate of the arts, I couldn't not go to the Getty Center before leaving. My friend Maria and I went up on a Saturday afternoon. If you've never been, go check it out. It's located on the top of hill right off the 405 and has a great view of Santa Monica and the Pacific. On top of that, the architecture is pretty sweet. I mean, I'm no architecture major, but I enjoyed it. Very contemporary and very bright. They had a pretty sweet garden on the grounds, too, with lots of water and bridges.

It turned out to be a good day for exhibits as they were hosting several Degas prints. My favorite piece of the day was his "Title Here" (see pic). There was also an Impressionism wing with several Cezanne, Monet, and Manet pieces. We even got to see some Remington. I felt cultured.

Amoeba

No, it's not referring to the single-cell organism. And no, it's not a club in Hollywood full of people with the intelligence of a single-cell organism (which was my first guess). No, it's a super-awesome music store in Hollywood. If you're looking for it, they've probably got it. It's so awesome that there's a man at the entrance to the parking lot letting cars in only when a space opens up. Maria introduced me to it. I ended up buying aCD and 3 LPs after spending like 2 hours in the store.

The Old Spaghetti Factory

I've been to the one in Louisville dozens of times, so I couldn't pass up the offer to hit up the one in Hollywood. And it was just as delicious as the one in the Ville for the same delicious price. The only complaint I had was that the bread wasn't the awesome brown bread you get in the Ville and they didn't give us garlic butter. What's up with that? The best part though is checking out the building it's in. They always pick an old warehouse or department store and the furniture is made from crazy bedframes or something. I highly recommend it if there's one near you.

Exhibit BE

2006-06-01T22:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight after surfing (which was most excellent, if I must say) I decided to take a shower to wash off all the briny sea water. In the process, I somehow managed to get a substantial quantity of Head & Shoulders in my left eye. How? I have no idea. What I do know is that it hurt like hell.

My track record isn't looking so hot lately...

Exhibits BC and BD

2006-06-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

Further proof that I am my own worst enemy.

Exhibit BC: Sometime last weekend I misplaced my sunglasses. I assumed that I left them at work on Friday evening, so I thought little of it. Come Tuesday I find they are not at work. Last night I start looking everywhere I can think of, but to no avail. Later, I toss a load of laundry into the dryer and notice it's making an unusually amount of noise. Further inspection reveals my sunglasses inside the dryer, broken across the nose and missing a lens. Why did I ever throw them in my hamper? Why?? Because I am my own worst enemy.

Exhibit BD: On the way to work today I filled up the tank with gas and decided to wash my windshields. As soon as I finish I look down to see the entire right half of my tan shirt is wet and covered in black gunk. Guess who leaned up against his oil-refinery-soot covered car? Yup. Luckily I got most of it out with a paper towel and water, but half my shirt was wet for about 2 hours.

I'm a colon!

2006-05-26T09:29:00.000-07:00

Find your own pose!

At least that's what this site would have you believe. And to prove this website is bunk, that's not the way I sleep at all. It's lying on my stomach with arms under the pillow and legs spread out taking up the whole bed for me.

I enjoy a good spooning, too. Mmmmm, spooning.

Big Love

2006-05-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

No, this is not a post about the hit HBO series (which I happen to love). Seeing as how little I've posted in the past month, you might not have known that spent most of last week on a business trip in the Beehive State. That's Utah for you non-Mormons out there.

Yes, Utah. Land of the mountains and the desert, the skiers and the ranchers, the Righteous and the Polygamists. That's pretty much it, really. No, I kid. There's a lot more in Utah than that. Here's what you need to know if you ever venture into this fair state.

Conceal Carry Law

If you're thinking about mugging one of those nice Mormon girls on mission in Salt Lake City, don't. There's a good chance she's packin' heat, and if she isn't, there's a good chance someone nearby is. For the 2002 Winter Olympic games the state hung a banner in the Salt Lake City airport that read, "Utah and it's 60,000 licensed gun owners welcome you to the Olympic Games." Take that, would-be Olympic pick-pocketers!

The best part about the week was watching our program director, a very sheltered, probably liberal, east coast woman turn pale as our host informed us that he has a concealed weapon permit. Ahh, libs. Gotta love 'em. Actually, our host was pretty cool. He invited us out to his "ranch" for dinner one night and fed us buffalo steaks. I highly recommend trying one. Deeee-lish. After that, he let us go hang out with his horses. What a crazy bunch they were. One even tried necking with me (see the pic).

Skeeters & Friends

Okay, so maybe I've gotten soft living in LA where there are no bugs (nor any wildlife, for that matter), but the bugs were pretty vicious. One of the facilities we toured had industrial sized bug zappers with four foot piles of bugs underneath. Stupid bugs. Our host told us the no-see-ums are really bad. I have no idea what a no-see-um is, so I ask if they're anything like chiggers. Everyone asked me what a chigger was. A chigger is a chigger, idiots.

Great Taste, More Filling

I was going to title this section something like "Bible Belt" but make a play on the Mormon aspect, but "Book of Mormon Belt" just didn't have the right ring. But back to the facts. Utah state law prohibits any beer from being greater than 3.2% alcohol by volume. Let me give you a reference point here: Bud Heavy is 5.0% by volume. Got a picture in your head now? Now try to imagine getting drunk off that kind of beer. Seven beers and three shots of Maker's and all I had going for me was a pot belly David the Gnome would envy. I think the beer was actually rehydrating me. If that weren't enough, you have to be a member of a bar before you can drink there. Awesome.

All in all, though, Utah is pretty nice state. Sure, there's not a whole lot to do there compared to somewhere like LA or DC, but it reminded me of home, only with a lot more mountains and not as many trees. Our host tried to convince us to do a rotation there in Salt Lake, but I don't think that'll be happening anytime soon.

Here's a few fast facts about Utah:

Brigham Young led the Mormons to Utah and settled in the Wasatch Valley when he received a revelation from God.
The head of the Mormon church is called the Prophet. His name is not Roman Grant.
The prophet is appointed after the Apostles of the church receive a revelation (see a pattern?)
The Salt Lake Temple is made of granite took 40 years to build. The walls are 9 feet thick at the base and 6 feet thick at the top.

Polygamy was first enstated by Brigham Young, but was later banned by the church.
The Union and Pacific Railroads were joined by a golden spike in Promontory, UT (that's me standing this the Union Pacific building in SLC)

Real Ultimate Power

2006-05-11T12:29:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered what it's like to have real ultimate power? Do you wish you could learn how to flip out and totally kill people? Well, here's your chance to learn! Just ask a ninja!

Today's topic: Bad Decisions

(Here's to hopefully being the first in my circle of friends to find this.)

The Great Easter Keg Hunt

2006-04-19T07:49:00.000-07:00

Yes, you read that correctly. An Easter Keg Hunt.

What's so amazing about this idea is not so much the pure genius of turning a childhood tradition into something adults would enjoy, but rather the fact that neither I nor my roommates (current or previous) thought of it first.

No, it was not our idea but that of the employees of that oft-visited seller of spirits, the Tavern on Main. Those sly purveyors of potent potables figured out a way to get Christians to come to a bar on the most holy of days -- by giving away free stuff.

Here's how it worked. Teams of two arrived at the Tavern at noon on Easter day. Sitting on the bar were two empty kegs; one gold, one silver, and both decorated like Easter eggs. The finders gold keg would be awarded a grand prize which included t-shirts, hats, shot glasses, pint glasses, two $50 gift certificates to the Tavern, and two tickets to an LA arena football game. The finders of the silver keg would be awarded with an unknown consolation prize.

While all the teams were held temporarily captive, two Tavern employees hid each keg in a public park somewhere in El Segundo. The picture below shows a map of our fair city and each dot represents a park or recreation facility. Finding these kegs would be no small task.

Six of us (roommates and friends) formed three teams which divided up the parks. Armed with bikes and cars, we quickly raced off to find the coveted quarry.

Imagine our surprise when, 25 minutes later, we had all searhed our respective parks to find nothing! These guys weren't kidding around when they hid these things. We quickly began backtracking, still trying to beat the dozen or so other teams that seemed to have caught up with us.

Over an hour into the hunt, we received a call from Matthias saying that found the silver keg! It wasn't much longer that the organizers of the hunt called to inform us that both kegs had been found. The grand prize winner? A guy on a scooter whose teammate had abandoned him at the starting gun. It turns out we walked past the winning keg several times but never saw it because we failed to look up (it was in a tree).

Matthias's team was awarded with t-shirts, hats, and two mini bottles of very cheap champagne. On top of that, Matthias achieved Tavern fame when, after finding the silver keg, ran it back through town to the Tavern on his shoulders.

Best of all, we all got happy hour prices for the rest of the day!

I'm a whale watcher...

2006-04-12T18:48:00.000-07:00

"...watchin' whales go by. My, my, my."

Okay, no; I am not a perv who gets his kicks out of ogling whales. Man, just thinking about that gives me the jibblies. The nibbly jibblies.

But what I most certain am is a Certified Whale Watcher. And I've got the card to prove it, bitches. What do you got now?

How did I become a Certified Whale Watcher, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Seeing as how neither my roommates nor friends were around the week/weekend of my birthday, they felt the need to celebrate it last weekend. So Phil and Pangle (who I presume were the ringleaders here) decided to round up some people and take me on a whale watching cruise on the South Bay. Most excellent!

The excursion itself was a bit less simple than you might think, though. There were many obstacles and terrors to defeat in order to obtain my newly achieved title. First and foremost was getting on the boat before it left the dock. Phil, with the planning skills of an army general (e.g., Custer), had not pinpointed the exact location of said dock prior to departing on our adventure, and we arrived at the ticket counter at precisely the last minute. Luckily, the curator of ticket sales wasn't going to pass up the fares of six extra passengers and we were allowed on board.

Upon leaving the dock, the captain of the Voyager (our barely seaworthy transport) began rattling off the safety announcements. We all perked up when he mentioned the most important of topics: vomit. His entire speech on the matter was summed up by one sentence: Swallow your pride; go over the side! And boy did they. I saw no less than three asian tourists lose it over the side of the railing. The best part was that there was an 8 inch ledge on the side of the boat which seemed to act like a puke-magnet. One poor shipmate (employee of the tour company) had to go around the boat with a brush on a pole and wipe down the side of the ship whenever someone blew chunks. And I thought my job was crummy.

The tour took us down between Palos Verde and Catalina Island as our guide informed us that we were looking for the (apparently elusive) gray whale. About 45 minutes into the tour, we spotted a few dolphins. I can't remember the species name; it started with an R, I think. Apparently these bad boys are normally a dark grey, but like to stratch each other's skin with their teeth which makes them turn white when they get old. Why do they do that? No one knows. Not even God. So stop asking questions.

We also saw some sea lions sleeping on a bell buoy. A few woke up to check us out as we drifted by, but they just fell back asleep. Can't say I blame them. Then we saw a few bottlenose dolphins, but they swam away from us. Maybe it was all the boot on the side of the boat that drove them away.

After three hours of trolling around the South Bay, our tour came to an end. Grand total of whales seen: zero. Awesome! The tour guide tried to inform us that dolphins are indeed whales, just small whales. "Blasphemy!" I shouted. "You're a whale heretic!" She then pronounced us all Certified Whale Watchers and tried to sell us merchandise. Matthias bought a patch and gave it to me for my birthday present.

So there you have it. To become a Certified Whale Watcher, you don't actually have to see a whale. You just have to taunt your tour guide. Done. Aaaand done.

(I took my camera out with me, but the pics are on film. If any are good, I'll post them soon.)

Somebody kill me please

2006-04-05T12:52:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I haven't posted much lately mainly because there hasn't been anything interesting to write about. Why is that, you ask? Partly due to the fact that all my roommates (and most of my friends) were out of town last weekend, but mostly due to the fact that I'm bored out of my mind at work.

Let me paint you a picture. It's only fair to warn you that it will be no Picasso or Monet, but more like finger paintings children bring home from their daycare and their parents fawn over with accolades of "You're so talented!" and "You could be the next Picasso or Monet!" because, well, they're parents. That's what parents do. I don't expect such response from you, the readers, as you are not my parents.

Okay, so I've been working on implementing a cool tool for work that requires working on a server (I would tell you more, but then I would have to kill you.) Being that I don't have a full clearance yet, there is only one computer I can use to access said server. The problem is, there are like three other people in the same situation, so getting time on this computer is like DART-ing for a class back when we had to use phones. "BEOOWWW beooowww. The computer you are trying to use .... is UNAVAILABLE! Eat shit and die."

Today is the first day this week I've been able to access the computer, and for only an hour at that. The problem: I have nothing else to do. I have even asked for things to do. This actually resulted in a new task yesterday, for which I need to use that same computer. So now I have twice the work and no way to do any of it. Awesome.

Why don't they just set up a new terminal to the server, you ask? Because that makes too much sense. Actually, there's a lot of bureaucratic red tape involved like making sure you don't use a computer bought for a different contract and making sure the computer is set up to handle classified stuff. Bottom line: getting menial tasks done at a defense contractor is sometimes like squeezing a camel through the eye of a needle.

In the meantime, I'm becoming a hell of a sudoku solver.

Where's the pet store in this mall??

2006-03-30T08:32:00.000-08:00

The other night I was stuck down in Huntington Beach for band rehearsal and had some time to kill. So I jump in the car and drove to the nearest mall. I really have nothing in mind that I want to buy, but I figure I rarely see real people now that I work exclusively with engineers, so it might be a nice change of pace.

As soon as I walk in it dawns on me that every mall has a pet store. Seeing as how it was my birthday, what better gift to myself than to go see puppies? Sure, they're puppies that I can't have, so it's sort of torture in a way, but in a good way. Like masochism. Not that I'm into that.

I start circling the mall, searching for the inevitable store window full of yipping dogs and packed with people cooing over them. I make it around the first floor with no luck, so I move up to the second floor. I'm nearing the end of the circuit and I'm starting to get frustrated. What kind of a mall is this, that doesn't have a pet store? I finally decide to consult a map (I've been on the phone with Ginger this whole time so I haven't been in any hurry). I quickly locate the only pet store on the map and discover that I walked by it several times on the first floor. The best part? It's name is Indogneato! Brilliant! No wonder I couldn't find it!

It took me another five minutes and two wrong hallways to finally locate this store. They really take their pun on incognito seriously! Upon arriving, I find that the store is in fact all dogs, and is in fact neat.

Let's revisit the facts here. All dogs + neat store + hard to find = Indogneato!

I can oly hope that someday I will posess half the genius the founder of that store posesses, or that I become half the tool I am today.

Event Horizon

2006-03-27T21:24:00.000-08:00

Function: noun

the surface of a black hole
the boundary of a black hole at which the escape velocity equals the speed of light and beyond which nothing can escape from within it

The definition above is taken directly from the Merriam-Webster dictionary, and almost perfectly describes the situation in whiwch we all now find ourselves.

We are on an event horizon. We've been heading toward it for some time now at break-neck speed. The bad news is, we're accelerating with every passing day and there's no escape. Some of us have seen it coming for some time now and have tried to make the most of our remaining time by attending bowl games, tailgating in freezing temperatures, filling out brackets and coming down with a case of March Madness. But our revelries will soon end.

The Black Hole of Sports. A time when the great sports of the athletic world fall into hibernation and the lesser sports feed on the hunger and desires of fans across this great nation. Sports like NASCAR, NBA basketball, baseball, and golf (the Diet Coke of sports; just one calorie, not athletic enough) plague our televisions and infiltrate the highlight reels of SportsCenter. Video clips of water-skiing squirrels are necessary to fill out the Top Ten list of plays due to the wholly unexciting nature of this season. It is a pestilence upon Americans everywhere.

And while most of us have seen it coming for some time, there are others who are blind to its arrival. They are an infected race, and were mostly likely infected by their ancestors before them. They will tell you that 117 games in a season does not make any one game less important. They will tell you that it matters whether Kobe or LeBron scores more points. They will tell you that a green jacket is more precious than cutting down nets. Do not be fooled by these people, they will try to infect you, too.

The end is near. We are nearing our own rift in the sports-time continuum and there is nothing we can do about it except hope that we make it through the wormhole that gets us back to the universe of real sports. Until then, we'll have to rely on the World Cup to get us through it all.

Things to do before leaving LA

2006-03-26T20:01:00.000-08:00

So I was having a conversation with my good friend Pangle and we decided that we needed to come up with a list of things to do before we leave Los Angeles. I mean, it is a huge town with a ton of things going on, and it's uber-close to a lot of attractions and National Parks, so we should be living it up! So here's what I have so far. This is a living list, so check back often to see if anything has been added or crossed off.

Oh, and feel free to suggest things to do!

Athletic Events

~~Attend a Dodgers game~~
~~Attend an LMU basketball game~~
Attend a UCLA basketball game at Pauley Pavillion
~~Attend a USC basketball game~~
~~Attend a UCLA football game in the Rose Bowl~~
~~Attend a Notre Dame/USC football game in the Colliseum~~
Attend the Grand Prix of Long Beach
Attend a Mexican wrestling match/Burlesque show
Attend a LA Galaxy game
~~Attend a US Soccer Team game~~

Artsy/Touristy Stuff

~~Visit the Getty Center~~
Visit the Getty Villa
~~See the Watts Towers~~
~~See the Hollywood sign~~
Walk behind the Hollywood sign
~~See the Walk of Fame~~
~~See someone famous in public~~: Trevor Einhorn (from Sons & Daughters)
Tour a movie studio
~~Visit the Griffith Observatory~~
~~See movie at the Arclave or Chinese Theatre~~ (I am Legend at Chinese)
~~Ride the Ferris Wheel on the Santa Monica Pier~~
Go to Magic Mountain (Six Flags)
Go to Disneyland
~~Go to a club in Hollywood~~(Falcon)
~~See the LA Philharmonic Orchestra perform~~
~~Go sailing~~
~~Go to Catalina Island~~
~~Go on a whale watching tour~~
Actually see a whale on a whale watching tour
~~Go to Amoeba music store~~

Food & Restaurants

~~Eat at Tito's Tacos~~
~~Eat at The Old Spaghetti Factory~~
~~Eat at Pink's Hor Dog stand~~
~~Eat at Roscoe's Chicken 'n Waffles~~
Eat at Mel's Diner

Travel

~~Drive up Pacific Coast Highway in a convertible~~
Go wine tasting in Napa & Sonoma Valleys
Visit Joshua Tree National Park
~~Visit Sequoia National Park~~
Visit Yosemite National Park
~~Go to Las Vegas~~
Lose money gambling in Las Vegas
Win money gambling in Las Vegas
~~Visit the San Diego Zoo~~
~~See the Gaslight District in San Diego~~
~~Visit Tijuana, Mexico~~ (driving through was visit enough)
Go to a Giants game in San Francisco
Go to an A's game in Oakland

Sports Activities

~~Surf Malibu~~
~~Surf Venice Beach~~
~~Surf El Porto~~
~~Surf Manhattan Beach~~
Surf Redondo Beach
~~Surf Huntington Beach~~
~~Surf San Onofre~~
Play basketball at the basketball courts at Venice Beach
Go skiing at Mammoth or similar nearby ski resort
Go white-water rafting on Kern River
Go ocean kayaking
~~Camp in Malibu~~
~~Camp on Catalina Island~~

I've been tagged

2006-03-23T14:24:00.000-08:00

I haven't been participating in Blog World for a few weeks now (for several reasons, of which I will inform you later), so I decided to go catch on my friend's blogs. And wouldn't you know it, I got "tagged" by my friend Steph. So I guess I'll continue this crazy yet unnecessary internet fad!

Four jobs I have had in my life:

Systems Engineer - Northrop Grumman (Los Angeles, CA)
Teaching Assistant - Purdue University (West Lafayette, IN)
Engineering Intern - Boeing Satellite Systems (El Segundo, CA)
Cashier - Furrow Building Materials (Middletown, KY)

Four movies I could watch over and over:

The Hunt for Red October ("A god-damned cook!")
Tombstone ("I have two guns, one for each of ya.")
Super Troopers ("Mother of God.")
Rocky IV ("I must crush you.")

Five places I have lived:

Crestwood, KY
South Bend, IN
Lafayette, IN
Marina Del Rey, CA
El Segundo, CA

Five TV shows I love to watch:

The Office
My Name is Earl
South Park
Scrubs
Lost

Four websites I visit daily:

Five places I have been on vacation:

Scandinavia (Sweden, Norway, Denmark)
Pawley's Island, SC (pre-Hurricae Hugo)
Jekyll Island, GA
Sanibel Island, FL
Denver, CO

Four of my favorite foods:

Spaghetti w/ Meat Sauce
Country Fried Steak w/ white gravy
BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich with cornbread
Sweet Tea

Four places I would rather be right now:

Louisville, KY
South Bend (visiting the Animal House crew)
Bora Bora (why not?)
Surfing (instead of working)

Four friends I am tagging:

AniMal
Lizett
Booter
Nips

March Sadness

2006-03-23T13:43:00.000-08:00

For those of you who know me well, you know that this is normally one of my favorite times of the year. Why? Sixty-three games of the greatest sport crammed into three weekends. It's a veritable orgy of finger rolls and buzzer beaters, alley-oops and cinderella stories. And normally I'm all about it.

But this year that's not the case.

You see, I have three teams I root for in the college basketball world: the University of Louisville Cardinals, and the Notre Dame Men's and Women's teams. Of those three teams, only one remains in post-season play (Louisville).

To be honest, all three teams were pretty mediocre this year. I actually stopped keeping up with the ND Women's team about two thirds of the way through the season; not because I was angry with them for being mediocre, but because I ran out of time and energy to keep up with them and both men's teams. It's kind of a shame, too, since it seems from the stats and awards that Megan Duffy (aka, "Tiger Teeth") had a great senior year. It's just too the team as a whole was having as great of a year. They finished the regular season on a three game winning streak with a record of 18-10. They made it to the second round of the Big East Tournament by beating South Florida, but ended up losing to arch-rival Connecticut for the second time this year. Then, in a lack-luster performance they fell in the first round of the NCAAs to red-headed stepchild Boston College. Final record: 19-12.

The Irish men had probably the most frustrating season of any team in Division I-A ball. They had 10 losses in the regular season by a combined total of 31 points. They played in four regular season overtime games, two of which were double overtimes. The season wasn't all bad tidings, though. Chris Quinn became the leader that he could never be with that ball-hog Chris Thomas on the court, and Torin Francis finally stepped up and became the big man at the post he should have been his sophomore year. The team eked out a bid to the Big East Tournament, but faired no better than during the regular season, losing a close game to Georgetown. An NCAA bid was out of the question, but the NIT extended an invitation to the not-so-lucky Irish. As a five seed, Notre Dame beat Vanderbilt in the first round, but ended their season in a way that seemed only fitting: losing to Michigan on a buzzer-beater three pointer in double overtime. Final record,

The Cardinals came into this season with a high ranking thanks to last year's Final Four berth, but it did not last for long. After playing a brutally easy out-of-conference schedule, Louisville entered gruelling Big East play for the first time. They started conference play with a paultry 2-6 record and were soon bottom-feeding for a Big East tournament bid. Despite a close loss to UConn in the season closer, wins over old C-USA foes Marquette and DePaul ensured a trip to Madison Square Gardens. The Cardinals came out extremely sluggish against Pitt and soon accumulated a 28-point deficit. The clawed back in the second half and with under a minute to go were only down by three. That would be as close as they got, however, as they watched their NCAA berth fly away. The NIT was more than happy to invite the Cardinals to come play and ranked them as a one seed. So far Louisville has wins over Deleware St., Clemson and Missouri St., and will face rival Cincinnati in the semi-finals next week. The Cards lost a lot of great players last year, so it's not surprising to see all the makings of a rebuilding season evidence themselves in the statistics. The team is getting better and will be a force to be reckoned with next year. The only thing sad about this season is that Taquan Dean is a senior. The kid is all heart and gives 100% every game; he deserves better than a 12-loss season on his way out. Let's hope he can at least get an NIT championship in there.

Cute & Cuddlies

2006-03-07T08:08:00.000-08:00

Thesis: Adam Morrison is uglier than the Eborsisk (the two-headed monster from the movie Willow).

Disprove it.

El Segundo Pub Crawl

2006-02-28T16:12:00.000-08:00

So about a month or five ago, my roommates and I decided that we should host a Pub Crawl in our humble town, seeing as how there are ample bars within walking distance of our abode. Last weekend, our brainchild came to fruition.

This is one man's recollection of that event. Those readers who suffer from nausea, heart disease, myopia, or pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis should stop reading now.

For the reader's enjoyment, I have included a score of me vs. alcohol as dictated by rules fo AniMal's drinking game, which are as follows:

I receive 1 point any time I drink either a shot or a pint of beer.
Alcohol receives a point any time I due something stupid as a result of drinking.

Let hilarity commence.

The Invitation

This 4-day week has been more grueling since the time we had to ford the river and could only carry 100 lbs of buffalo, but fret no more. At the culmination of this abridged scholastic journey is an event with such an anticipatory quality that many of you are at risk of dysentery just from reading this e-mail. This Friday evening we will start at Stick and Stein and travel westward stopping only for necessary libations until we reach the budding Tavern on Main. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s the first ever El Segundo Pub Crawl! Whether you choose to be a banker from Beverly Hills, a skillful farmer of Gardena, or a Comptoner in the middle, this pub crawl is your chance to benefit from some LA purchases. Gear up for Friday; it’s our manifest destiny.

-The Boys of Sheldon

The Lineup

7:30 pm - Leave Chateau
8:00 pm - Stick & Stein
8:30 pm - Grand Street Café
9:30 pm - The Office
TBA - Purple Orchid Tiki Lounge
TBA - Richmond Bar and Grill
TBA - Crappy Bar by Richmond Bar and Grill
TBA - Mad Dog Ale House
TBA - Tavern on Main
2:00 am - Return to Chateau

Stick & Stein

It was a long and arduous walk from the Chateau to Stick & Stein, and needless to say our thirsts were in need of quenching. As luck would have it, the barkeep was prepared for us, pulling out 32 oz. schooners of our favorite quaffs. Soon we were engaged in a hearty conversation, about what I cannot remember. After a while Pete from BC joined our merry band, and Matthias arrived soon after from his school's Black History Month program. Both quickly made up for lost time and we headed out for out next stop.
Goat: 2
Alcohol: 0

On the walk to Grand Café, a discussion on carivorous habits ensued and it was quickly learned that Pete & Kelly were the only vegetarians in the group. Pete, having not eaten dinner, was craving some delicious falafel when Kelly informed him that there was a great vegetarian place just across the street. Mind you, that street was Sepulveda. Never wary of fast-moving objects, Pete proceeded to sprint across 8+ lanes of traffic. That man must really love falafel.

Grand Café

Upon arriving at the Grand Café, the first thing I noticed is the sign advertising their Breakfast Special - Pancakes, Eggs, Sausage & Bacon, all for under $4! (Note to self: hit this up sometime) Inside we find a classic airport dive bar run by what I believe was a Vietnamese couple. Solid liquor shelf, but only a handful of average beers on tap.
Matthias immediately orders up shots of Maker's Mark (he really is a saint!) and we're on a roll. Pete returns with falafel in stomach and we're also joined by a few more ladies. Time was short, so we all put back our beverage of choice so we could meet up with the other stragglers at The Office.

Goat: 4
Alcohol: 0

The walk back to downtown ES was less long and arduous than before, and Booter's shirt choice sparked a vivid discourse on 90's apparel. I can only hope to someday have his fashion sense. Rock on, Nostalgic Warrior!

The Office

By now we're running a bit behind schedule, but it's all good because a couple dozen of our friends are waiting for us at The Office. This brings our total to something around 35 crawlers. With our increased numbers we are beginning to scare the locals, making them flee to the outdoor patio.
Notable guests include the lovely Melissa Weyek, the Hermosa Crew, some C5s I don't know nearly well enough, and the Meyer's (John's father and brother). Speaking of C5s I don't know well enough, I called Patrick "Paul". Come to find out later in the weekend, Paul is the only African American in Place Corps. Patrick is most definitely not black. Oops. Sorry, Patrick.
Oh, and I almost walked into the women's restroom. Given some of the townies, thank Jebus it was locked.
Goat: 5
Alcohol: 2

Purple Orchid

Next stop, Tiki Lounge. Our arrival prompted the quintessential quote of the evening:

Bartender: "What are you guys, college students or something?"
Matthias: "Nope, we're teachers." <loud cheers from PLACErs>
Matthias: "Six shots of Maker's, please."
I don't remember hearing this quote, but I do remember the Maker's (and it was oh-so-delicious). To be honest, I don't remember much about this bar. I'm pretty sure I gave Melissa a shoulder massage, and then gave one to Stephanie, too (didn't mean to weird you out, Steph). What I do remember is going back to the bathroom and standing puzzled in front of both doors. Neither were labeled but instead had a tiki god statue on them. After several back-and-forth glances (it was dark) , I noticed two pointy protuberances on one of the statues and quickly figured out it was not the door I wanted. Take that, alcohol.
Goat: 6
Alcohol: 2

Richmond Bar & Grill

Feeling quite good and ready to move on, Matthias and Phil officially declared that it was time to move on to Richmond's and bolted out the door. Taking a cue from the voice in my head that said, "Never mind their head-start; you can still beat them!", I took off in a mad sprint down the sidewalk. That's when the first casualty of the night occurred: one pair of Levi's destroyed and one right knee with a case of road rash. I am my own worst enemy.
I finally arrive at Richmond's to find out what my colleagues now know: Richmond's is closed. Closed?!?! It's only 11:15! Well, the owner is still there behind the bar but he's no longer serving customers. Phil goes into a long schpiel about how much he loves Richmond's freshly made potato chips and that he has been looking forward to them all night and he can't live without these chips and and ... and ... That's when the waitress says "I'll get you some cold chips out of the back." VICTORY!! We all agreed the owner is a class act and there were handshakes all around. God bless you, owner of Richmond's. God bless you.
Goat: 6
Alcohol: 3

Crappy Bar by Richmond Bar and Grill

In all fairness to the Crappy Bar by Richmond's, I would like to state as fact that its real name is Old Town Patio. That being said, we were so infatuated with our newly acquired chips that we entirely forgot about the Crappy Bar by Richmond's. It was about that time we noticed Joe Sports Bar driving by in his pickup truck. Fearing we wouldn't survive the one block walk to Tavern on Main, the six of us all piled into the bed of the truck. (Mind you, the rest of the pub crawlers had already moved on.) JSB decides to take the most inconspicuous route possibly and head down Grand to Main.
That's about the time someone saw a cop. So what does Joe do? He throws the truck in reverse, backs up Grand, pulls a U-ey, and I'm pretty sure he ran a stop sign, too. We're now back where we started in front of Richmond's. There's a white SUV next to us that people are talking to, and someone says we should get out of the pickup and into SUV. Genius! I immediately volunteer, get in, and buckle up. It's about this point I realize that I have no idea who the driver is. Luckily, three of my compadres have joined me and it turns out the guy is one of my friend's coworkers. Whew. We soon arrive safely and legally at Tavern on Main.

Goat: 6
Alcohol: 4

Tavern on Main

We pour out of our respective vehicles to find the other crawlers already inside the Tavern. We were there just long enough for a few photo ops when someone realizes that we skipped Mad Dog Ale House. A small band of crawlers loyal to the cause run out the door and sprinted over to the neglected bar. I nearly won the foot-race until a barefoot Matthias surpassed me in the last 20 feet. Why were we racing again? Oh yeah, beer. Mmmm, beer.
Goat: 6
Alcohol: 4

Mad Dog Ale House

Matthias immediately orders a round of Maker's for the small crew and we're back in business. It's about this time Matthias notices a guy sitting alone at the end of the bar eating a salad. "Why are you eating a salad?" he asks. Matthias is almost offended that this guy could be eating something green. The guy says he jsut wants to enjoy his meal, but Matthias wants nothing of it. Phil tries to patch things up, telling the guy we want to do a shot with him. Matthias immediately balks, "I'm not taking a shot with him unless he orders a hamburger!" Ah, here's to almost getting into a fight over eating meat. We quickly down our beers and hightail it out of there.
Goat: 8
Alcohol: 4

Tavern on Main (redux)

We arrive back at the Tavern to find much shiznittery taking place. I order up the worst beer I drank all night -- a Coors Light -- which was fine since I couldn't taste it anyways. In the meantime, the Vegetarians seem to be hitting it off and Matthias is dancing it up with the guy who drove the SUV. Good times all around.
Around 1:15am, a few of us decided we were finished. I'm pretty sure it was Pangle, John, Phil and myself. I don't know when everyone else left, but there were reports later that Matthias took off his pants and shoes, handed them to his girlfriend and ran through the streets of El Segundo in boxers and a t-shirt. Well done.

Goat: 9
Alcohol: 4

Official Announcement

2006-02-22T12:47:00.000-08:00

I have just lost The Game.

Goat & Lizett's Excellent Adventure

2006-02-21T07:39:00.000-08:00

As you may already know, the beautiful and talented Lizett came to LA this weekend. What you probably don't know is what a crazy time it was! Hoo-wee! Let's get down to it.

The shiznittery all began when I picked her up at the airport. She was being held hostage by a group PETA activists led by Pamela Anderson for being a Texan, since Texans insult cows by using them as a mascot. Luckily, MI-6 had recently added some improvements to my '96 Civic, so I hewed through their human-wall barricade with my mini-guns and used a few RPGs to bust down the wall of the interrogation room where they were holding Lizett. She quickly darted through the hole in the wall with her luggage and into the back seat, ducking just in time for me fire two shots at Pam's grossly oversized breasts. Rashanda the Honda quickly sped away, but not before and enraged (and now flat) Pamela Anderson could release a flock of death-pigeons at us. The landed on top of the car and tried to shit all over it, so I engaged the EMP and shocked their asses back to pigeon hell.

Once back at the Chateau, we were shocked to see a telephone booth in the living room accompanied by a man named Rufus. Long story short, we travelled back in time, kidnapped a bunch of famous people and brought them back to 1989 where hilarity ensued as our captives wreaked havoc on the modern world. Oh, and we passed our final presentation at San Dimas High School. Excellent!

Haha, those crazy things didn't actually happen. I know it's hard to believe, but they didn't. Actually, our time together was pretty uneventful as her flight was late and I was still recovering from being sick. We did get to have dinner on Friday night at El Cholo, an excellent Mexican restaurant in Santa Monica. Lizett's friend Greg joined us, and although I couldn't hear anything he said all night, I could tell this guy was hilarious. B-Puff also joined us as well, and good times were had. Although, I must say, having two Faltos together reminded me of how much (and how loud) they talk. Especially during great movies, like Tombstone. What's wrong with you, Faltos? Jeez.

Short week

2006-02-09T13:11:00.000-08:00

It was a short weekend and has been a short week, so let's recap as briefly as possible.

Friday night saw some excellent roommate time as Phil and I went to the El Segundo v. Lawndale basketball game in Lawndale. The 'Gundo came home with a victory, and we came home to beer. Booter, Matthias, Bret (our Kramer) and I played some Beer Pong before calling it a successful night. Just so you know, Booter and Matthias make a formidable team. Bret and I handed them their first and only loss on the house table that night. You have been advised.

Saturday brought the UofL/ND basketball game at the early hour of 9:00am (West Coast bias, baby!). Holy crap, this was a good game! As I told you I would, I rooted for my Cardinals. It was tough seeing as how ND keeps losing heartbreaking games, but my mind was already set. Besides, seeing the Louisville home court on TV made it hard not to root for them. I think my brain is hard-wired. Maybe it will be hard to root against ND next year when I see the court at the JACC on TV. Who knows? Jesus knows.

I then took an epic four hour nap. Have I mentioned how much I miss naps? Well, I do. Like the deserts miss the rain. Anyways, that afternoon we started a game of Risk on which I have already commented. Pangle came over later and we educated her on the awesomeness that is Tombstone. She now spouts off quotes like "I'm yo' huckleberry" and "You called down the thunder, well now yer gonna get it!" at opportune times. We enjoyed the performance of Val Kilmer so much that we watched The Saint immediately afterwords, and I was immediately reminded of my crush on Elisabeth Shue (which is odd for me since I normally favor the brunette). Did you know she was also the girl in Karate Kid? I didn't until this weekend. All hail, Captain Oblivious!

Sunday I went to mass with Pangle and Kelly at the school where they teach. On the way there I was informed that I would probably be the talk of all the middle school gossip the next week. Kelly tried to get me to hold Pangle's hand during mass or give her a peck on the cheek during the peace offering. Hi-larious. Needless to say, I didn't. (If I were AniMal, I would have said that I kicked her in the face, and then in the next sentence admitted that I didn't.)

That afternoon I went to Gilbert's to watch the Super Bowl. Is it just me, or is it getting lamer and lamer every year? Remember when the commercials used to actually be funny? Good times. I will admit that I loved the MacGyver commercial and the crime deterent cell phone. Gilbert cooked up some Cincinnati-style chili (see: Skyline Chili) that was delicious, even if it was a little heavy on the cinnamon.

Monday night, my dodgeball team lost for the first time this season. We were up 4-2 only to lose four straight games and the match. These guys could really throw. It's like they held out the first couple games and then let loose at the end. Balls. Oh well, being undefeated was fun for a while. The last two games of the season are against creampuffs, so we've got that going for us, which is nice.

The rest of the week has been pretty lame, but it's looking up. I'm headed to Lafayette tomorrow morning to visit Ginger and all my Purdue friends. I'm really looking forward to a three-day weekend and time with the girlfriend. I'm sure there will be much debauchery. More at eleven.

Alexander The Not-So-Great

2006-02-05T22:06:00.000-08:00

That's what my title would be if my job were "World Conquerer."

Yup. I stink when it comes to taking over the world. You might as well call me Pinky because while everyone else is planning total domination, I'm staring off into space wondering what we would look like without ears.

My roommates and I engaged in an epic game of Risk this weekend and as you can probably already guess, I lost. Bigtime. It wasn't like I didn't have a chance, either; I had a secure hold on the entire continent of Africa and Southwest Asia. Then came the pivotal turn. Booter (red) and Matthias (yellow) were trying to persuade me to attack Phil (blue) and eliminate him from the game. Sure, I might have made a dent, but the fact was that Phil had 30 armies stacked in Southeast Asia. It would cause more damage than good to attack. So I conquered a weak country, took my card, and waited to see what happened.

Narf!

That's when the shit hit the fan. Booter & Matthias sensed my weakness and turned on it. Result: complete decimation of my global forces in one fell swoop. My inaction was my downfall. I was Neville Chamberlain when I should have been Winston Churchill or FDR.

It really says a lot about me in real life, too. It's so typical of me when faced with conflict to step back, wait a little longer, and see what else prevents itself when I should act on my gut. The whole time during that turn I kept thinking to myself, "You need to do something before this gets out of hand. Don't sit back like you always do." But did I listen? No. Damn you, self. Damn you.

But now I know. And knowing's half the battle. G.I. Joe! A real American hero, G.I. Joe is there!

(author's note: "Alexander the Not-So-Great" was shamelessy stolen from my best friend, Alaska, who could probably destroy me at Risk in one turn.)

Balls.

2006-01-31T17:48:00.000-08:00

As in shit. Fuck. Insert-favorite-one-word-expletive-here. I think I picked it up from hanging out with Jism this fall (does that make it a Jism-ism?), and I say it whenever something seems to go wrong. Seems like I've been saying it a lot lately. Let's explore why:

Sucky basketball teams -- I doubt you've been looking at my blogs tracking the progress of Notre Dame and Louisville basketball teams, but here's a summary: they stink. I assumed Louisville wouldn't win the Big East their first year, and with it being a rebuilding year I had them picked for middle of the pack. But now it looks like they might not even make the conference tourney! Nipping on their tails are the Irish with a mere one win in conference play. What's really disappointing about ND is that most of their Big East losses have been by narrow margins. Come on, Brey. Do some end-of-the-game coaching. Balls.
United Airline Fuckers -- So remember all that travelling I did last fall where I really didn't live anywhere, per se? Well, I get an email from United today saying that time is running out to achieve my Premier Executive status and I need less than 2,000 miles to get it. Then I remember I have a US Airways flight worth 2,288 miles that I haven't gotten credit for (USAir and United are mileage partners). I call up United and make the request only to get denied because even though I bought the ticket through US Airways, the flight was operated by American West, which is not a partner with United. What the fuck? The only reason I opted for the US Airways flight was because I would get miles for United! What a fucking sham. Balls.
Stolen MP3 Player -- Only days after miraculously saving my MP3 player from the electronics graveyard, I apparently leave it on the sink in the bathroom at work last Friday. I don't realize this until Sunday night when I want to listen to some tunes. I come into work Monday and explore all avenues -- bathrooms, building management, company email list, cleaning crews -- and no one has seen it. Sure. Oh, just so you know, the bathrooms are locked at all times so the only people who can get in are employees and the cleaning crew. It's my own damn fault for leaving it behind, but it sure says a lot about mankind that you can't accidentally leave something in a locked room and rightfully expect to ever get it back. I should also mention that I'm not entirely positive that I left it in the bathroom, but that's the last time I can remember seeing it and I have yet to find it in my apartment. I am my own worst enemy. Balls.

Granted, not everything in life is bad right now. Here are some super-sweet things that have happened lately:

New Pillows -- $10 at Bed, Bath & Beyond and I'm sleeping like a rock now.
US Soccer -- Got to see the National Team play Norway on Sunday. There was definitely some tailgating action with Booter, Phil and Pangle that required skipping the first twenty minutes of the game. Oh yeah, USA won 5-0. (oh, and it definitely made me miss DC United games)
Beer Die -- Taught the roomies how to play Beer Die this weekend. Booter's first question: "Do the pint glasses ever get broken?" First toss that hit a pint glass shattered it. It was Booter's pint glass. This prompted me to buy a dozen new pint glasses solely for Beer Die.
Upcoming Trips/Visits -- Next weekend visiting Ginger in Lafayette. The weekend after Lizett arrives in LA. Momma Rousseau's coming to LA March 2-8. Ginger and friends coming out for Spring Break. The roomies and I are going to Round 1 of the NCAA in either San Diego or Oakland. Oose.
Undefeated Dodgeball Team -- Monday night we beat the Sitting Ducks to remain undefeated and take sole claim of first place in the league. Three games left in the season before the Playoffs.

Dodgeball Schedule, Winter 2006

2006-01-24T19:54:00.000-08:00

Date	Opp Rank	Opponent	W/L	Score	Record	Rank
1/9	--	Monkeys Throw Poop	W	6-0	1-0	--
1/16	T-5	Matsuballs	W	6-2	2-0	T-1
1/23	T-3	Sweaty Balls	W	6-3	3-0	T-1
1/30	T-1	Sitting Ducks	W	6-5	4-0	T-1
2/6	3	Duck Hunters	L	4-6	4-1	1
2/13	8	Free Agent Team	W	6-0	5-1	2
3/13	7	The Godfathers	W	6-0	6-1	2
3/27	--	Recess All-Stars [Playoff Quarterfinals]	--	--	--	--
3/7	--	Duck Hunters/TSM [Playoff Semifinals]	--	--	--	--
3/27	--	[Playoff Finals]	--	--	--	--

Rankings shown are those at beginning of game

State of the Goat

2006-01-24T14:49:00.000-08:00

Now that January is almost over and I can finally remember to write 2006 when I date things, it's time to update you all on the current state of my life. So let's get to it.

First and foremost, work is starting to kick butt. I no longer dread going to the office every morning like I did there for a while. There's something about actually having something to do that challenges your mind and produces results that makes you forget you're staring at a computer 8 hours of your day. I'm working on some super-sweet algorithm simulations that will hopefully convince the government that they should give us money. Actually, my simulations will probably get passed on to a much more proficient programmer who will look at them and exclaim, "What is this shit?!?", promptly throw them away and start from scratch. I'm searching for possible assignments for my next rotation, which starts in June/July. I really want to stay in California for one more year, then maybe go to Denver or DC the next year.

I'm also starting to get in a rhythm outside of work. Dodgeball has started another season (which you read about here) and so far we're undefeated! Booya! Tuesday nights have brought the return of community band practice, where we are no longer playing Christmas tunes we've played a million times before. Big Guy, I know it's your birthday, but I can only take so much. Isn't two months of Christmas enough? The roommates (read: "Booter") and I are starting up the sweet tradition of Thursday nights at The Office, where we first watch a hilarious episode of the sitcom The Office and then proceed to walk two blocks to a bar called The Office and order two-for-one Amber Bocks. Delicious. Mix in pick-up basketball on every Thursday, Friday and Sunday and you have a full week, my friend.

Other than that, I've been reading The Dark Tower by Stephen King. I just started Book II, and I can assure you that it kicks ass. There are 5 more books to go, and I can already say this. If you're looking for a good fiction with a hint of sci-fi, pick up the first book: The Gunslinger.

What's so special about rocket scientists?

2006-01-20T16:42:00.000-08:00

I got to chatting with my co-workers yesterday and the topic of job titles came up. We all have the ambigious job title of Systems Engineer. Yet it turns out that the company doesn't mandate what job title you list on your business card. If your manager approves it, you're golden. One of my buddies in San Bernadino managed to get "Rocket Scientist" seeing as how he designs rockets.

It got me thinking. We design radars missile defense at our office. We have to use our brains to come up with a system to shoot down rockets. It's like we're shooting them down with mind bullets. "That's telekenesis, Kyle!" We have to be even smarter than the rocket scientists.

I bring this up in the office conversation and my co-worker replies, "We're better than rocket scientists. We're 'Anti-rocket Scientists'!"

Thus, I'm officially changing the old adage to "You don't have to be an Anti-rocket Scientist."

The Desperado Slayer

2006-01-17T13:20:00.000-08:00

Ever downed a CJ's Golden Domer? Think finishing that 1-pound burger was quite an accomplishment? Do ya? HUH? Well you're an ant compared to this man! Armed with nothing but hiw two hands and his pearly whites, he single-handedly devoured the 2-pound beast of a burger known as The Desperado.

Designed to serve a family of four, the Desperado hangs off the edges of a standard dinner plate, requires 6 slices of cheese, and its bun top comes on a separate plate. Women swoon in its presence, men lose control of their bladders, and children flee in terror. But one man stood his ground and laid waste to his worthy opponent. This is that man:

Our hero with Desperado in belly.
After finishing the last morsel he was overheard saying, "I am all that is man!" Known as Matthias by his friends, he will live on in legend as The Deperado Slayer.

I love the smell of solder in the morning

2006-01-17T08:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm proud to inform you that the soldering iron and tool kit which I asked for (and you subsequently got me) for Christmas 3 years ago finally turned out to be quite useful.

The Soldering Iron of Justice (and other lesser tools)
It was just yesterday I started noticing that the headphone jack on my MP3 player (which you got me for Christmas last year) was looser than usual and as a result caused one or both earpieces not to play music. This is where my education in Electrical Engineering (which you also helped me get) came in quite handy. I opened up the case of the faulty MP3 player with the screwdrivers from the toolkit which, while adequate, could have been better. Upon removal of the casing, the culprit was soon located -- four broken solder joints. I whipped out my handy-dandy butane-powered soldering iron and reattached the separated headphone jack with the steady hands of a recovering crack addict who just began rehab. It was no easy battle, but victory was soon mine.

Electronics Gone Wild!
Were it not for your gracious gifts, I would be stuck at work with nothing to listen to as I stare mindlessly into my computer monitor. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

You loving son,
Goat

Behind the writing of Pamela Anderson's letter

2006-01-16T15:29:00.000-08:00

My roommate found the following article written in response to Pamela Anderson's recent letter to Kentucky governor Ernie Fletcher on the removal of Colonel Sander's bust from the state capitol building.

Anderson wrote the letter with the help of People for the Ethical Treatment of animals. PETA stepped in an rewrote the letter after finding it contained no verbs and was littered with misplaced commas and semicolons. When questioned about her lack of grammar, Anderson curtly replied saying, "I used the semicolons so that people wouldn't doubt my writing skills. A semicolon is like a neon sign that says, 'Back off; I'm smart.'" Whether Anderson realized that her "neon sign" would have actually included the lauded semicolon is unknown.

The source of the article is unknown, but is believed to be written by a short man with spiky blond hair and voice that cracks occassionally. Whoever he is, he is a literary genius.

Film Actors Guild (FAG) strikes again...

2006-01-13T15:26:00.000-08:00

I was really getting concerned here lately that I was running out of things to write about in this blog. But then Pamela Anderson opened her mouth (to talk, sick-o) and suddenly I had material with which to work (side note: Damn you, Grammar Club, for making me correct prepositional phrases at the end of sentences.) Check out this article from CNN.com today.

Pamela Anderson takes on Colonel Sanders
TV star leads campaign to remove a bust of 'cruel' KFC founder from Kentucky state capitol.January 13, 2006: 2:43 PM EST
NEW YORK (CNN) - Television star Pamela Anderson is leading a campaign to have the bust of Kentucky Fried Chicken founder Harland Sanders removed from the Kentucky state capitol.
In a letter to Gov. Ernie Fletcher, the former Baywatch star says suppliers for the fast food chain, now called KFC, engage in cruel and unusual treatment of chickens, including tearing the heads off of live birds, spitting tobacco into their eyes and spray-painting their faces.
Anderson wrote the letter with the help of People for the Ethical Treatment of animals. In a statement issued by PETA, Anderson said, "The bust of Colonel Sanders stands as a monument to cruelty and has no place in the Kentucky state
capitol."
Brett Halle, communications director for the governor, told CNN, "We understand that people have a passion for their causes, but Harland Sanders is a beloved man, and as far as this state is concerned, he exemplifies the best of Kentucky. The governor has no intention of moving his statue. If we were going to move it, it would be to a more prominent position where more people could see it."
A spokeswoman for KFC told CNN that the letter is "just another misguided publicity stunt by PETA in their attempt to create a vegan society."
--from CNN Business News Assignment Editor Tom Ziegler

Okay, so most people won't care much about this, but as a native Kentuckian it really struck a nerve. First let's learn a little history about the so-called "cruel" founder of KFC, Colonel Harlan Sanders. This is going to be long, so if you're the type who strives on sound bites and never learning all the details, I suggest you stop reading this entry now.

(taken from the official KFC website)
Colonel Harland Sanders, born September 9, 1890, actively began franchising his chicken business at the age of 65. Now, the KFC® business he started has grown to be one of the largest quick service food service systems in the world. And Colonel Sanders, a quick service restaurant pioneer, has become a symbol of entrepreneurial spirit.
When the Colonel was six, his father died. His mother was forced to go to work, and young Harland had to take care of his three-year-old brother and baby sister. This meant doing much of the family cooking. By the age of seven, he was a master of several regional dishes.
At age 10, he got his first job working on a nearby farm for $2 a month. When he was 12, his mother remarried and he left his home near Henryville, Ind., for a job on a farm in Greenwood, Ind. He held a series of jobs over the next few years, first as a 15-year-old streetcar conductor in New Albany, Ind., and then as a 16-year-old private, soldiering for six months in Cuba.
After that he was a railroad fireman, studied law by correspondence, practiced in justice of the peace courts, sold insurance, operated an Ohio River steamboat ferry, sold tires, and operated service stations. When he was 40, the Colonel began cooking for hungry travelers who stopped at his service station in Corbin, Ky. He didn't have a restaurant then, but served folks on his own dining table in the living quarters of his service station.
As more people started coming just for food, he moved across the street to a motel and restaurant that seated 142 people. Over the next nine years, he perfected his secret blend of 11 herbs and spices and the basic cooking technique that is still used today.
Sander's fame grew. Governor Ruby Laffoon made him a Kentucky Colonel in 1935 in recognition of his contributions to the state's cuisine. And in 1939, his establishment was first listed in Duncan Hines' "Adventures in Good Eating."
In the early 1950s a new interstate highway was planned to bypass the town of Corbin. Seeing an end to his business, the Colonel auctioned off his operations. After paying his bills, he was reduced to living on his $105 Social Security checks.
Confident of the quality of his fried chicken, the Colonel devoted himself to the chicken franchising business that he started in 1952. He traveled across the country by car from restaurant to restaurant, cooking batches of chicken for restaurant owners and their employees. If the reaction was favorable, he entered into a handshake agreement on a deal that stipulated a payment to him of a nickel for each chicken the restaurant sold. By 1964, Colonel Sanders had more than 600 franchised outlets for his chicken in the United States and Canada. That year, he sold his interest in the U.S. company for $2 million to a group of investors including John Y. Brown Jr., who later was governor of Kentucky from 1980 to 1984. The Colonel remained a public spokesman for the company. In 1976, an independent survey ranked the Colonel as the world's second most recognizable celebrity.
Until he was fatally stricken with leukemia in 1980 at the age of 90, the Colonel traveled 250,000 miles a year visiting the KFC restaurants around the world.

As you see, the Colonel lived quite a life. If you have ever been to Corbin, Kentucky, then you truly realize the enormity of this man's accomplishments. He was a visionary and a risk-taker who embodied the American ideal of hard work. Compare that to Pamela Anderson, who tackles the daunting task of putting on makeup and showing off her grossly oversized fake boobs (which, I will admit, I have ogled).

Many people are confused as to why he is referred to as the "Colonel." Most think he was a colonel in the Civil War, or that he played on the Kentucky Colonels of the now-defunct American Basketball Association (ABA). The truth is that "Colonel" is an honorary title bestowed upon him by the Commonwealth of Kentucky. The title of Kentucky Colonel is awarded to someone whose actions advance the betterment of Kentucky or Kentuckians.

(from Wikipedia.com)
Kentucky Colonel is a honorary title bestowed upon individuals by approval of the Governor of Kentucky. It is not a military rank, requires no duties, and carries with it no pay or other compensation other than membership in The Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels.
The title Kentucky Colonel has been around since 1813. The Kentucky Militia had just returned from a highly successful "War of 1812" campaign that resulted in control of the Northwest being returned to the United States. When the militia disbanded, Governor Isaac Shelby commissioned Charles S. Todd, one of his officers in the campaign, as an aide-de-camp on the Governor's Staff with the rank and grade of Colonel. Todd married Shelby's youngest daughter two years later.
Early Colonels actually served military roles. In the latter part of the 1800's, the position took on a more ceremonial function. Colonels in uniform attended functions at the Governor's mansion and stood as symbolic guards at state events. By the late 1800's, the title had become more of an honorary one. In fact the title is handed out so freely that in recent years the Kentucky state legislature has taken steps to limit how many may be granted in a given year.
Award of the title requires nomination from an existing Colonel. Nominators are expected to consider the nominee's service and contributions to the Global community before making a nomination. Applicants must be at least 18 years old. The sitting Governor of the Commonwealth of Kentucky bestows the honor of a Colonel's Commission, by issuance of a certificate.

Given the weight that this title carries in the Bluegrass State, it comes as no surprise that the governor's office responded by saying they move the Colonel's bust to a "more prominent position where more people could see it."

So now that you have an idea of why I was so easily set off by Mrs. Anderson's comments, let's take a more object look at the absurdity of her argument (if you can call it that).

"The bust of Colonel Sanders stands as a monument to cruelty..."
If anything, the bust of Harlan Sanders stands as a monument to hard work and entrepreneurialism and the reward that their combination can bring. The man never had a thing given to him in his entire life. Did he complain or demand better treatment? No. He won his bread one day at a time. It wasn't until he was over 60 years old and living on a $105 Social Security check that he started the business that would eventually give him fortune and (unexpected) fame.

It is also rather far-fetched to link Colonel Sanders to cruelty to animals. I agree that farmers spray-painting the faces of live chickens is cruel and abhorent, but Harlan Sanders isn't the one telling farmers to commit this foul act. In fact, he hast had little say in how the company has been run since he sold his share in 1964. He has had absolutely nothing to say since he died in 1980!

Instead of protesting a bust of a great man, she should be addressing the responsible parties: the executives of Yum! Brands and the farmers themselves. While she's at it, maybe she should demand that Yum! Brands cease and desist the association of the Colonel with KFC until the cruely is stopped.

"...and has no place in the Kentucky state capitol."
Given the contributions this man has made to the Commonwealth of Kentucky, if for no other reason than making it a household name worldwide for something other than marijuana-growing, the state capitol building is exactly the place where he should be honored.

Most people outside of the Bluegrass State think of Kentuckians as just a bunch of slack-jawed yokels and rednecks who can't contribute to this nation. Sometimes this becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy amongst to people who live in the Commonwealth, as they are constantly reminded of the stereotype when they venture to other parts of the country. Fellow Kentuckians like Colonel Harlan Sanders stand as a beacon of encouragement to those citizens who ignore the stereotypes and put their faith in hard work.

Personally, I believe uneducated, self-promoting actors and actresses such as Pamela Anderson have no place in the political arena.

Maybe I'll form my own PETA -- "People for the Education of Thoughtless Activists." That has a nice ring to it.

Computer of the future

2006-01-12T16:22:00.000-08:00

Ever get frustrated at the rate of techonological progress these days? Well this ought to put things in perspective. It's a picture from a 1954 Popular Mechanics magazine depicting the home computer of 2004.

Compare to this, which Apple just released days ago. Too bad these guys had never heard of Moore's Law or, for that matter, the transistor.

Off Topic: Awesome T-Shirts

Back from the dead

2006-01-12T08:52:00.000-08:00

Can I just start by saying that this week has dragged on for an eternity? I really think that the first full week of anything after having time off is the hardest thing to endure in everyday life. They should really have "re-entry" programs for returning to work where you ease back into your normal schedule, adding one day per week until you are back to a full week. It's like rehab for the vacation junkie.

Speaking of vacation, my two weeks out of office were splendid. Seven at home in Kentucky, three in Tempe with Ginger, and like three days filled with nothing but travel. Oh, and for added bonus, Ginger stayed in LA for four extra days (even though I had to be at work!). Seeing the family was great, and I even got to watch my nephews one morning. Holy crap, they have a lot of energy! It was fun, but rest assured that I will not be having children anytime soon. I don't know how my sister stays home with them all day every day. The Fiesta Bowl trip was pretty sweet barring the game. Highlights of the trip include:

Arriving at the Block Party at 12:05 am on New Years. Everyone was already leaving.
Dinner at P.F. Chang's with Ball, Mal, Kelly, Nips, and Berger, followed by piano bar action with Dixie and Jimmy (Jude?)
Andrea. 'Nuff said.
Continuining another stupid Tone tradition by watching another (terrible) horror flick in the hotel. This bowl's pick: The Fog with Tom Welling and Maggie Grace. (Spoiler: Despite the abundant quatity of gargantuan fishing hooks in this movie, there was no Death Hook. Ball wept.)

I could tell you more about the trip. I could also punch you in the face. Trust me, you want neither.

Getting to hang out with Ginger again was super sweet, too. This long-distance dating thing is tough at times, but frequent visits help tremendously. We've done most of the touristy things in LA already, so we mostly hung out at the apartment. She did buy a new bikini which she got to wear on the beach when it was 80º over the weekend. It's tough living in a temperate, oceanic climate.

Since then, work has been pretty steady. I've have a lot of stuff to work on, which makes the days go by a little faster. Add on top of that dodgeball, concert band, and pickup basketball with the roommates and you have why I rarely post anymore.

Speaking of dodgeball, my team, "The Los Angeles Dodgers of Orange," defeated "Monkeys Throwing Poo" by a score of 6-0 Monday night. Oose.

The hiatus ends

2006-01-11T13:16:00.000-08:00

After 19 days of doing absolutely nothing (which is what I do when I'm not posting), I bring you this moment of hilarity:

Setting: Booter & Goat's bathroom

Booter: Excuse me. I have to get the goop off my hands.
Goat: I hear you. [shows hands]
Matthias: [chuckles from other room]

It's great having roommates with immature senses of humor.

Hollister is for poseurs

2005-12-20T16:35:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm not feeling very creative and articulate today, so I'm posting a letter my girlfriend sent to the editor of The Exponent (Purdue's student newspaper) last year. She actually wrote much more than this article, but was limited to 300 words or something like that. Check it out.

Imagine you’re visiting California, but when you get there, you notice everybody is wearing t-shirts with logos from the Midwest. You might see several Harry's Chocolate Shop t-shirts, or maybe a shirt that says something goofy like "See More in Seymour, IN," or "Lafayette is for Lovers," or "Bowling in South Bend." You would probably wonder at first if your Midwestern kinsmen had joined you on the west coast. But no, they bought their T-shirts at the local mall. In fact, the hot co-ed wearing the "bowling" shirt has never even been to a bowling alley! That is what it's like for a Californian to see all these Midwesterners wearing Hollister "surf" gear.
According to an article on TrendCentral.com, the Hollister Co. clothing store was established when the clever marketing execs at Abercrombie & Fitch noticed that the smaller sizes of printed logo t-Shirts were selling out. (This explains why Hollister sell tons of t-shirts that look like they came from a California thrift store, and everything is a size too small.) Hollister Co. is NOT a legit surf shop, but a way for A&F to line their pockets with naive young Midwesterner’s cash. Young Midwesterners who’ve possibly never seen an ocean, let alone surfed, can make believe that they are one of the characters on The OC. The smart marketers at A&F recognized that the “California surfer lifestyle” is glorified in the media, and brilliantly found a use for a surfboard in the land-locked Midwest – as a moneymaking accessory.
If you like the clothes at Hollister, fine. You look trendy and cool to the majority of people that you will meet at Purdue. Just keep in mind that you look absolutely ridiculous to anyone who surfs or has ever lived on the West Coast.

In case you were wondering, there is a town named Hollister in California. It is approximately 15 miles (as the crow flies) from the beach and a 24.0 mile drive to the nearest surf shop.

If you want to wear genuine surf apparel, I recommend checking out these brands: Becker, Quicksilver, O'neill, Billabong, Roxy, RipCurl, etc.

Well shit.

2005-12-19T13:06:00.000-08:00

The monkey gods of fate smiled upon me for a brief moment with the reward of tickets to the Fiesta Bowl, but their smiles turned into evil grins as they flung the feces of misfortune at my face and took the tickets back. Damn you, monkey gods! DAMN YOU!

So it turns out the Ticket Office emailed my buddy Mike last Friday stated clearly that he had won a pair of tickets; yet today he received a FedEx-ed letter stating that he had indeed not won. What kind of shitty work is this? We have some incompetent dolts working at our fair University.

Booya!!

2005-12-16T13:38:00.000-08:00

{in a celecratory dance/taunt}

We goin' to Fi-esssta Bowl!
We goin' to Fi-esssta Bowl!

I got two tickets! The hilarious thing is, my primary (and what I thought was my only) source did not win tickets through the lottery. But during lunch today, Mike Denney called and said he won two tickets and asked I fI wanted them. Sweet sweet serendipity!

We're all gonna get laid!

Sushi!

2005-12-14T13:20:00.000-08:00

Monday at lunch my coworkers learned that I have never tried sushi. This was followed immediately by looks of astonishment and demands that we have sushi for lunch the next day. I immediately became passive aggressive Goat and subtlely tried to change the subject, but cowing away only goaded them on more. So I caved. Surprised? I bet one reader isn't (you think you have me all figured out, don't you??) I successfully postponed it one day due to my marathon training, but today there was no excuse. It was time to face my destiny. Or something.

Luckily I had a veteran take me to the local sushi shop, and he ordered some relatively mild entrees: Yellowtail, Tuna, and Spicy Tuna Rolls. Now, I wasn't entirely honest when I said I've never had sushi before. A couple summers ago I was up at Carolyn's lake "cabin" and her mom made California rolls but used cooked crab and shrimp, not raw fish. I forced down two slices dipped in soy sauce and wasabi, despite my gag reflex's vehement attempt at the opposite. Not the best experience.

So needless to say I was a little nervous about my first bite. It was a Spicy Tuna Roll. Popped one in my mouth, started chewing and, lo and behold, it was pretty good! Then I projectile vomited. Haha! No I didn't. Next up: Yellowtail. Delicious! Tuna? Scrumptuous! This stuff hardly even tastes like fish. In fact, it was like biting into a very tender (albeit uncooked) piece of beef. Not as much flavor as beef, but still fairly tasty. The waiter, who knows that this is my first time eating sushi, stops by to see how we're doing. As when all waiters stop by, my face is stuffed with a huge bite of food. I'm trying to chew up this bite and I must've made a contorted face or something because he looked at me and said, "I better get you more water," only in a Japanese accent. Awesome.

So there it is. After all these years of swearing off sushi, I actually enjoyed it. It's not like I'm going to start eating it on a regular basis, though. One step at a time, my friend. One step at a time.

Warrior of the 405

2005-12-13T16:04:00.000-08:00

Part of the sacrifice I made to live with my awesome roommates is that everyday I have to drive 33 miles to work. Approximately 30 miles is on the 405. For those of you who have never been to California, here's a few points of interest:

Freeways, expressways, interstates and other major highways are not refered to as "Interstate X" or "State Road X", but rather "The X". Nowhere else in this great country do people do this, but then again nowhere else in this country is there such an abundance of hippies.
The 405 is always packed. ALWAYS. You will always be surrounded by 100 other cars, none of whom are passing the others. However, if you find yourself alone, riding in the green fields with the sun on your face, do not be troubled. For you are in Elysium, and you're already dead!

Typical traffic on the 405
Photo courtesy of Baron's Blog

Every morning I get up before the ass-crack of dawn to get on the road by 6:15am so that I beat 50% of the other Los Angeleans going to work. This works out well because it allows me to leave work at 4:00pm and beat 50% of the Los Angeleans going home. Well, this morning I forgot to set my alarm. I didn't end up getting out the door until 7:00am. Knowing full well the hell that lay before me, I decided to get some Mickey-D's on the way out. Got on the 405 and what do you know... traffic was moving! Holy crap! It only took 45 minutes to get to work, which is par for the course!

I've been trying to notice traffic patterns so I know when and when not to travel in LA, but all I've learned in the past six months is that there is no pattern. That, and LA drivers don't know what the fuck to do when it starts raining. They're like Chicken Little in their cars screaming, "The sky is falling! THE SKY IS FALLINGGGGG!!" They're so busy looking up at the falling sky that one of them forgets to brake when everyone else slows down and WHAM! Car accident. Stopped traffic. Awesome. LA has so many accidents per day that they have a special term for the really, really bad ones: SigAlert. I have no idea what the "Sig" is SigAlert stands for, but check out the website: http://www.sigalert.com.

That said, LA is still better to drive through than Northern Virginia. That place just plain sucks.

A Plethora of Blogs

2005-12-12T16:43:00.000-08:00

So, in case you aren't Lizett and haven't noticed already, I now have five blogs. FIVE, bitches. That's five times as many as any of you have. To be honest, I really only have two blogs to which I make honest-to-god posts, the other three are merely basketball scores. But that's still twice as many as you!

Those of you know me know that every year around this time I start keeping track of my favorite college basketball teams. Normally I keep a blurb in my AIM profile updating all my friends as to how said teams are doing. Well, I decided this year to use this great God-given gift of blogging to take care of the chore instead. Now I can include graphics, schedules, and even make it look like I made a post the day of the game when I actually didn't! So check 'em out:

University of Louisville
Notre Dame (Men's)
Notre Dame (Women's)

Right now they are just game results plus a season schedule. If my life ever affords the time (or I actually get to see a televised game), I might write up a game recap or two, and provide amateur insight.

Tough thing about this season: Louisville joined the Big East. That means they have to play Notre Dame. Now I love my alma mater and all, but when it comes to college hoops Louisville trumps any team for me. I know this ticks off a lot of my fellow Domers, but get over it guys 'cause I ain't budgin' on this one. I've been waiting for U of L to win another championship since 1986. It's going to happen again sometime very soon. And until that time, the Irish basketball team is just a possum on the road where the Cardinal semi is rollin'.

Football, on the other hand, is a whole different story. I bleed gold & blue through and through every other night of the year. If ND and UofL ever meet on the gridiron then the tables turn. It's ND's turn for a football championship and I don't want a school that just learned what football is standing in the way. Capiche?

Okay, on to my last new blog: The Athletic Goat. As I'm currently training for the LA Marathon, I thought it wise to dedicate a blog solely to the endeavour. Hopefully this blog will extend past just the marathon to include all things athletic, including dodgeball starting next month.

So there you have it. If you don't see a new post her at My Own Worst Enemy, check the others out. After all, I can only post so many times a day.

Booter:		Excuse me. I have to get the goop off my hands.
Goat:		I hear you. [shows hands]
Matthias:		[chuckles from other room]