First of all, a programming note: I had planned all along to compile the survey for the week starting with the day of the week the first day of the year started with. Since a year contains 365 or 366 days, that would leave me with an extra day or two at the last survey, and we obviously are at that point now. I decided that, to treat myself for a hard year's worth of weekly surveys, I would keep that promise and not do my next survey until seven days of the following year has past. Therefore, the next WMNSS will be some time around Friday, January 7, 2010, and every Friday thereafter for the whole year. Besides, I need the extra day to recuperate from this daily commitment.
#-1: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -1). Finally, a tough win against a quality opponent. They open Big Ten play with a win for the first time in three years by coming back from an early second-half deficit and beat Penn St. and the Barn by five. And the Gophers have now won six in a row (all at home) with the help of Lawrence Westbrook's 18 points in the second half, which included draining four threes in the back 20 minutes. But they now have to leave their insulated coccoon at Williams next week: They play at Iowa and fourth-ranked Purude next week. Now we'll see how good this team is.
#-2: Wild (Last Week: -2). A 2-1 week -- a pair of 4-3 victories to start out, followed up by a 4-2 loss to nemesis Anaheim. Mikko Koivu still looks good. And Guy Latendresse is looking more and more like he can stick in the NHL. Congratulations to the five guys who will be in the Olympics in February: Koivu, Niklas Backstrom, Antti Miettinen, Martin Havlat, and Marek Zidlicky. The first three will play for Finland, the last two for the Czech Republic. Not to sound like a Republican, but where are the Americans? This week: Well, they have a New Year's Eve game at home tonight against Los Angeles, then host former Head Coach Jacques Lemaire and his new team, the New Jersey Devils, New Year's Post, then do back-to-back games at Chicago and vs. Calgary Tuesday and Wednesday.
#-3: Timberwolves (Last Week: -3). I was at last night's loss to the Bastard New Orleans Jazz and it was so frustrating. They led at half by one, but Jazz Head Coach Jerry Sloan made some adjustments which led to many plays where a Jazz player was all alone under the basket. Those defensive breakdowns, plus some hot shooting, gave them a lead of up to 17 points as late as 4:40 left in the game. But this is an underachieving Jazz team meeting a Wolves team I'm now convinced has talent; they then ripped off 11 in a row after that deficit, and with the help of back-to-back threes by Kevin Love, got as close as three points. Unfortunately, late turnovers, more screens leading to easy jams and layups, and missing 10-of-26 free throws (61.5%!) doomed them to a 107-103 loss.
That ended their 1-2 week. I don't know if they've turned a corner yet, though I don't think they're the worst team ever in the history of the franchise. One troubling sign: First-round draft pick and supposed point man for the next decade Jonny Flynn has been pulled by Head Coach Kurt Rambis more than a starter should. And at least for last night, when his veteran replacement, Ramon Sessions, was running the offense, they played better. They have three this week: A New Year's Night game against Orlando, then they immediately fly out to Indiana to play the Pacers Saturday night, then at home to Golden State Wednesday.
#-4: Gopher women's basketball (Re-Entry!). Two cold spells, the first at the beginning, the second in the back half of the second half, doomed the Gophs to an eight-point loss at Purdue to start conference play. Think about the current state of the program this way: Is there really any difference between this team and the team the year before Brenda Oldfield put the pieces together? I don't think so. So why isn't there more scrutiny over this team? At least they get to go home for their next two conference games, against Iowa and Northwestern.
#-5: Wrestling (Re-Entry!). They held the lead after the first day of the Southern Scuffle in Greensboro, N.C. But against programs they usually leave eating their dust, they coughed up that lead and finished second to ... Cornell? Two Gophers were able to win their class, but the Big Red had three, including grapplers ranked fifth and sixth, win their weights, so they made the Gophers eat their dust. That shouldn't happen. It just shouldn't. They have one bout this week; the fifth-ranked Gophs host #2 Iowa St. this Sunday afternoon at 2. I expect a loss. But at least no one will show up, because Minnesota sports fans will be in the middle of witnessing another fucking Vikings disaster that exact same time. And speaking of the Vikes ...
#-6: Vikings (Last Week: -4). ... who's to blame for that abortion of a loss to Chicago? Antoine Winfield, for failing to stop that long bomb that ended the game? Adrian Peterson, for coughing up the fatal fumble that led to the winning score the very next play? The special teams, which allowed a blocked PAT that caused the tie, and also was gashed repeatedly on returns? Or Head Coach Brad Childress for installing a stalled offense in the first half? Or, all of the above? With the loss, the New Orleans Saints, now looking very vulnerable, were given home-field advantage throughout the NFC playoffs. The Vikes also handed over the steering column to the Philadelphia Eagles and said, "Here, why don't you take the driver's seat?!" Because of their third loss in four games, they now have to win and hope the Iggles lose to Dallas in order to reclaim the second seed and next week off. Thanks for nuthin'.
All of this is leading to opinions that Brett Favre should just run the offense the way he sees fit. The second half is strong proof that he should, but I don't think so. This was just one game in his now-regular late-season slump. And the bottom line is you have to be able to run the ball. They go all West Coast offense where they pass to set up the run, and that permeable offensive line will allow Favre to be tossed on his ass a dozen times against the Giants on Sunday. You give the ball to Favre and the offense will come to a halt. And they will lose. And they will become the fouth seed after a first-round bye seemed a birthright. And they will get upset by the Packers next week. We Vikings fans know how this sad tale shall end.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
I Can't Fucking Believe I Got Beat By A Coke Truck!
Driving down 35W to get to the Megamall to buy some stuff. I underestimate the traffic going south. I'm stuck behind a huge semi two cars away from me. And for some reason this fucking lane isn't moving at all. I had a chance to move to the one to the left of me, but I didn't because then I'd be behind this Coke truck. So I think I should wait it out till the center lane moves again. Which it never does.
Fuck it, I tell myself, and I change lanes. Now I'm obsessed with the Coke truck. Where is it? It's now a dozen cars ahead of me. It was dusting me, for fuck's sake. The culprit wasn't the semi but some really short woman driving a really slow black sedan two cars behind it. While I was marvelling this woman's poofy hat, the car behind me suddenly stops. And now I'm not moving again. It was the opening scene to Office Space.
And that was how it was all the way down the Megamall. As soon as I switched lanes I was surrounded by a convoy of cars driving at O.J. speed. They were braking like they were imagining squirrels running onto the highway. Meanwhile this truck has made its way onto the horizon. It was fucking gone, and I still don't know how that could happen.
I was so pissed I played cat-and-mouse with this blue sedan that wanted to merge onto my long, backed-up lane that leads into the MOA parking lot. I spaced out and gave him some space, but luckily the light was turning yellow and I took advantage of his hesitation to close the gap.
My God, why is everybody fucking here? My theory: People are more enthusiastic about shopping for themselves after Christmas than for other people for Christmas.
Fuck it, I tell myself, and I change lanes. Now I'm obsessed with the Coke truck. Where is it? It's now a dozen cars ahead of me. It was dusting me, for fuck's sake. The culprit wasn't the semi but some really short woman driving a really slow black sedan two cars behind it. While I was marvelling this woman's poofy hat, the car behind me suddenly stops. And now I'm not moving again. It was the opening scene to Office Space.
And that was how it was all the way down the Megamall. As soon as I switched lanes I was surrounded by a convoy of cars driving at O.J. speed. They were braking like they were imagining squirrels running onto the highway. Meanwhile this truck has made its way onto the horizon. It was fucking gone, and I still don't know how that could happen.
I was so pissed I played cat-and-mouse with this blue sedan that wanted to merge onto my long, backed-up lane that leads into the MOA parking lot. I spaced out and gave him some space, but luckily the light was turning yellow and I took advantage of his hesitation to close the gap.
My God, why is everybody fucking here? My theory: People are more enthusiastic about shopping for themselves after Christmas than for other people for Christmas.
The Girls I've Lost This Year
May I make a confession?
One of my favorite hobbies is to get the October issue of Playboy, the one that has "The Girls Of [Some Conference." I then write down the names of all the girls in that spread, look up their e-mail addresses online at their respective school websites. Finally, I get up the courage to e-mail them, saying that they're so hot, telling them they took my breath away, and wishing them good luck in school. I tell them it's OK if they don't write back when of course I want them to.
Does it work? Well, it's not as if I was getting dozens of addresses when I first started with "The Girls Of The SEC" back in '98, but I think I got, like, a half dozen addresses. Out of those messages, I think I started out with getting, like, two or three of those chicks to write back. (For one girl I didn't get an e-mail but a phone number, and I had the courage to call her; unfortunately I got the wrong girl with the same name.) We'd trade a couple or a few messages back and forth, but it petered out usually by winter break.
It went that way for the next several years. My most successful campaign was when "The Girls Of The Big 12," where I had a yearlong correspondence with two chicks, Hilary Schatz of Texas A&M and Brenda Gerhardt of Colorado. Not only were they both hot, but they very sweet, very smart and very nice. One of my hugest regrets was switching the location of my phone in my dorm. I gave Hilary my old number in a letter I mailed her, then used my new number the following year. A letter she sent said she tried calling me at my old number. That letter is the last thing I ever received from her.
I decided to blog about this because I've been losing more girls in my life in the past year than at any time before. It's not just college girls who've gotten naked in Playboy. That well has been running dry for many years now. Stupid schools have gotten more tech-savvy and more concerned over these girls' privacy. Many of them don't use their school-bequeathed addies; some go so far as to not use their real names when posing. Psssh. I've been lucky to get one e-mail address during my searches.
But a couple years ago, way too late, I realized something: These are college students, so where do they go nowadays? Online social networking sites! I started with a special spring edition of Playboy's college babes, "The Girls Of Conference USA." I don't know why -- I guess I just Googled -- but the first chick I saw had a MySpace page. I wasn't on any of these sites, but I knew that if I wanted to be a part of a hot girl's life, I had to sign in, so I signed into MySpace and immediately friended these girls who posed. And just for good measure I signed onto facebook, even though I think it's less for people who are into porn. Let me be clear: I'm onto both sites to friend babes I see in Playboy; all the otherreal friends I have is only for keeping up appearances. Anyway, I got four of them from that pictorial to be MySpace friends.
The one I had the longest conversation with was Tracy "Alexander" from Southern Miss. Saw her pictures -- fucking hot. She was even hotter than her sole pic in the spread, where her torso is in bodypaint but she was completely naked and was showing off her beautiful pussy. You could not tell that she was a MILF. But she was cool and totally candid about her life.
Until one day, several months ago, I didn't see her MySpace page anymore. I knew she was getting serious with somebody and moving to a new house, but she didn't send any warning about deleting her MySpace. I checked facebook too, and for a while I saw her picture with her profile, but that too is gone. And I thought we had something special going on.
That's not all:
So I have lost, and have been unable to retrieve, many of the hot women I want in my life. That makes me more thankful for all the hot chicks who have accepted my requests. Specifically, I want to point out all of the girls who have personally replied to me on my two pages -- babes like Mandy Calloway at Houston, Tee Lynn of LSU, Adrianne Day of Southern Miss, Nikki Christine at Purdue, Monique Omura of Florida, and Alexandra Ford of Miami.
Wow ... listing all these girls doesn't make me feel sad about all the ones I've lost over the years. Shoot, this was supposed to be a pity party, but now I don't feel so bad.
One of my favorite hobbies is to get the October issue of Playboy, the one that has "The Girls Of [Some Conference." I then write down the names of all the girls in that spread, look up their e-mail addresses online at their respective school websites. Finally, I get up the courage to e-mail them, saying that they're so hot, telling them they took my breath away, and wishing them good luck in school. I tell them it's OK if they don't write back when of course I want them to.
Does it work? Well, it's not as if I was getting dozens of addresses when I first started with "The Girls Of The SEC" back in '98, but I think I got, like, a half dozen addresses. Out of those messages, I think I started out with getting, like, two or three of those chicks to write back. (For one girl I didn't get an e-mail but a phone number, and I had the courage to call her; unfortunately I got the wrong girl with the same name.) We'd trade a couple or a few messages back and forth, but it petered out usually by winter break.
It went that way for the next several years. My most successful campaign was when "The Girls Of The Big 12," where I had a yearlong correspondence with two chicks, Hilary Schatz of Texas A&M and Brenda Gerhardt of Colorado. Not only were they both hot, but they very sweet, very smart and very nice. One of my hugest regrets was switching the location of my phone in my dorm. I gave Hilary my old number in a letter I mailed her, then used my new number the following year. A letter she sent said she tried calling me at my old number. That letter is the last thing I ever received from her.
I decided to blog about this because I've been losing more girls in my life in the past year than at any time before. It's not just college girls who've gotten naked in Playboy. That well has been running dry for many years now. Stupid schools have gotten more tech-savvy and more concerned over these girls' privacy. Many of them don't use their school-bequeathed addies; some go so far as to not use their real names when posing. Psssh. I've been lucky to get one e-mail address during my searches.
But a couple years ago, way too late, I realized something: These are college students, so where do they go nowadays? Online social networking sites! I started with a special spring edition of Playboy's college babes, "The Girls Of Conference USA." I don't know why -- I guess I just Googled -- but the first chick I saw had a MySpace page. I wasn't on any of these sites, but I knew that if I wanted to be a part of a hot girl's life, I had to sign in, so I signed into MySpace and immediately friended these girls who posed. And just for good measure I signed onto facebook, even though I think it's less for people who are into porn. Let me be clear: I'm onto both sites to friend babes I see in Playboy; all the other
The one I had the longest conversation with was Tracy "Alexander" from Southern Miss. Saw her pictures -- fucking hot. She was even hotter than her sole pic in the spread, where her torso is in bodypaint but she was completely naked and was showing off her beautiful pussy. You could not tell that she was a MILF. But she was cool and totally candid about her life.
Until one day, several months ago, I didn't see her MySpace page anymore. I knew she was getting serious with somebody and moving to a new house, but she didn't send any warning about deleting her MySpace. I checked facebook too, and for a while I saw her picture with her profile, but that too is gone. And I thought we had something special going on.
That's not all:
- A girl that appeared as one of "The Girls Of The Big Ten" several years ago I found on facebook -- McKenzie Closen of Illinois. Thought she was cool, till I commented on something she was showing off on her body and I didn't identify it as the piercing it really was; a couple months later she deleted her account.
- And Sandra Hubby, Miss March 2004, had a MySpace and then mysteriously was gone. I wish I knew the exact moment she deleted her account.
- Do you remember a girl named Carlie Christine Beck, a cheerleading coach at a Sacramento high school who was fired after a disgruntled student told them about her Playboy career? I signed onto her MySpace after her shitcanning. We never "talked," but when she did warn everybody that she was about to leave MySpace, then actually followed through on her warning, I was devastated. And I still am.
So I have lost, and have been unable to retrieve, many of the hot women I want in my life. That makes me more thankful for all the hot chicks who have accepted my requests. Specifically, I want to point out all of the girls who have personally replied to me on my two pages -- babes like Mandy Calloway at Houston, Tee Lynn of LSU, Adrianne Day of Southern Miss, Nikki Christine at Purdue, Monique Omura of Florida, and Alexandra Ford of Miami.
Wow ... listing all these girls doesn't make me feel sad about all the ones I've lost over the years. Shoot, this was supposed to be a pity party, but now I don't feel so bad.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Deceiving My Parents
Feel bad about lying to my parents, but only because they haven't pissed me off recently.
The day I dropped them off at the airport last week was the beginning of the Snowpocalypse, a storm that, by the way, only dumped a foot of snow instead of the 20 inches some weathermen were expecting. But it was flurrying with the likelihood of it getting worse as the night wore on. So my parents, acting like parents, told/ordered me to go straight home after dropping them off.
Of course I didn't. First of all, with the impending inclement weather there was a chance their flight would be delayed. If it got to the point where their flight was cancelled I sure as hell didn't want to go all the way down to the airport to pick them up ... especially in that weather! Of course, the real reason I went to the Megamall instead is because I wanted to go to the Megamall. Specifically, I wanted to see Up In The Air. Great movie, by the way.
I kept my phone on. The only reason they would call is if their flight's delayed, in which case I would feel justified in sticking close to the airport, and to be brutally honest about it -- "See, I knew I should've stuck around!" But nothing happened, so I assumed they were on their way to Vegas as scheduled. Ah, alone time. Shopping, people-watching, Hooters and looking at titties. And I turned my phone off.
First sign of trouble actually was the second time I went out to the skyway to the parking lot to check the weather. The first time I looked it still seemed OK; the second time, uh, worse. But I wanted my wings and titties, so I went to Hooters.
I use my phone nowadays to calculate the tip. I remember once when I was the Hard Rock Cafe and I personally told the bartender who waited for me the change I wanted from my bill; with the rest she could keep as change, she went from a look of professionalism to outright disgust. I then thought I may have computed the tip wrong, and I did. So now I use the phone to make sure. And when I did just before I started all-you-can-eat wings at Hooters, I discovered that I had voicemail.
And it was Grandmother. Twice. She told me in both messages that Father called home to ask me how I was doing. No he fucking didn't!!! She told him he went out. Oh, great.
So I had to finish up my wings, look at enough titty to sate me for the night and hurry out to the car, thinking up an excuse along the way. OK, I thought to myself, the traffic was so bad I was diverted to another mall on the other side of the city, and so I said to hell with it and wait. I went back out when there was less traffic and got home around dinnertime. But the weather wasn't bad, so when I forgot that I needed to buy a Christmas card for a friend, I decided to go out, and then I decided to hang with a friend.
I actually called my Parents while driving on the road, which was slicker and a lot more dangerous now that the snow was really falling. I needed to nip this in the bud now, so I called, got my Mother on my Father's phone for some reason, and told her I was driving home. No, Mother, the roads aren't slippery, but I'm still taking it slow, just in case. It's not bad, honest!
I thought that would placate them, but no! For some fucking reason, My Fucking Father told My Mother to tell me to call him back as soon as I found out what the forecast for the next few days would be. He probably thought I was closer to him than I truly was, but I gave them that impression. So I decided to just fucking lie to them about the forecast; a little before I got home, I told them that the weather was going to turn worse overnight. After I was done with the call, I was very close to home.
It took me a good 10 or 15 minutes to park my car on the driveway and scrape all the snow and ice off of it. When I finally got done and pulling it into the garage (a hard task in and of itself because the driveway started to ice over) I saw that someone left me a voicemail. Oh shit, is it my fucking parents again?
It was my Grandmother; five minutes ago my mom called home to ask about me, again. Didn't think they were going to do that, so I didn't have any plan to tell Grandmother, so she lied the best she could and said I still wasn't home. I was fully expecting them to fucking blow up on me for intimating I was home when I wasn't. Luckily, it wasn't about that. Mother asked me for something else, I don't remember, but she didn't ask me any questions about my whereabouts beyond what I had told her.
And since getting back, they still haven't asked. They don't know the full story about where I went and about how I basically disobeyed them.
---
The weekend was very icy. That goddamn Christmas shower we had kept the snowfall totals down, thankfully, but it created the ice that led to all that rocky shit at the bottom of the driveway starting on Saturday. Moreover, there was a lot of ice that stuck to my parents' minivan over the weekend.
It got so bad that, apparently, one of the side doors would not fully close. I suspected this driving it from my parents' store to home; whenever I'd make a turn the lights in the back would turn on, only to turn off once I straightened out. It got worse when I started to drive to the airport; when I started the car the lights in the back would not turn off. At first I thought it was just the car -- it's a beat-up work van and my parents are letting a lot of things go on it -- but tugging at the driver's side side door would turn off the "open door" light on the dashboard and the lights in the car. Ah, so it had to be the door! I'm driving with a door ajar!! How fun!!!
Well, it wouldn't be, if this is not something my parents had let go and, in fact, is something that is fucked up. While driving I started to panic about them flying in in a good mood because I gave Father some right football picks for a change, and then they'd get pissed off at me because this door light on the dash has been on the whole time -- "That's danger! Do something!! What's a matter with you?!?!?!"
But then I turned on the defrost at full blast. I didn't think it'd generate enough heat to go beyond the windshield and begin to melt the ice to the side of the car, but it appears to have done that, because when I finally got to the airport I tugged at the door from the inside and heard something lurch. And when I got out and pulled the handle, unlike previous attempts, it opened pretty much immediately. Phew! Now I won't have to answer questions about how I could drive the car with a door open.
And they never have to know.
The day I dropped them off at the airport last week was the beginning of the Snowpocalypse, a storm that, by the way, only dumped a foot of snow instead of the 20 inches some weathermen were expecting. But it was flurrying with the likelihood of it getting worse as the night wore on. So my parents, acting like parents, told/ordered me to go straight home after dropping them off.
Of course I didn't. First of all, with the impending inclement weather there was a chance their flight would be delayed. If it got to the point where their flight was cancelled I sure as hell didn't want to go all the way down to the airport to pick them up ... especially in that weather! Of course, the real reason I went to the Megamall instead is because I wanted to go to the Megamall. Specifically, I wanted to see Up In The Air. Great movie, by the way.
I kept my phone on. The only reason they would call is if their flight's delayed, in which case I would feel justified in sticking close to the airport, and to be brutally honest about it -- "See, I knew I should've stuck around!" But nothing happened, so I assumed they were on their way to Vegas as scheduled. Ah, alone time. Shopping, people-watching, Hooters and looking at titties. And I turned my phone off.
First sign of trouble actually was the second time I went out to the skyway to the parking lot to check the weather. The first time I looked it still seemed OK; the second time, uh, worse. But I wanted my wings and titties, so I went to Hooters.
I use my phone nowadays to calculate the tip. I remember once when I was the Hard Rock Cafe and I personally told the bartender who waited for me the change I wanted from my bill; with the rest she could keep as change, she went from a look of professionalism to outright disgust. I then thought I may have computed the tip wrong, and I did. So now I use the phone to make sure. And when I did just before I started all-you-can-eat wings at Hooters, I discovered that I had voicemail.
And it was Grandmother. Twice. She told me in both messages that Father called home to ask me how I was doing. No he fucking didn't!!! She told him he went out. Oh, great.
So I had to finish up my wings, look at enough titty to sate me for the night and hurry out to the car, thinking up an excuse along the way. OK, I thought to myself, the traffic was so bad I was diverted to another mall on the other side of the city, and so I said to hell with it and wait. I went back out when there was less traffic and got home around dinnertime. But the weather wasn't bad, so when I forgot that I needed to buy a Christmas card for a friend, I decided to go out, and then I decided to hang with a friend.
I actually called my Parents while driving on the road, which was slicker and a lot more dangerous now that the snow was really falling. I needed to nip this in the bud now, so I called, got my Mother on my Father's phone for some reason, and told her I was driving home. No, Mother, the roads aren't slippery, but I'm still taking it slow, just in case. It's not bad, honest!
I thought that would placate them, but no! For some fucking reason, My Fucking Father told My Mother to tell me to call him back as soon as I found out what the forecast for the next few days would be. He probably thought I was closer to him than I truly was, but I gave them that impression. So I decided to just fucking lie to them about the forecast; a little before I got home, I told them that the weather was going to turn worse overnight. After I was done with the call, I was very close to home.
It took me a good 10 or 15 minutes to park my car on the driveway and scrape all the snow and ice off of it. When I finally got done and pulling it into the garage (a hard task in and of itself because the driveway started to ice over) I saw that someone left me a voicemail. Oh shit, is it my fucking parents again?
It was my Grandmother; five minutes ago my mom called home to ask about me, again. Didn't think they were going to do that, so I didn't have any plan to tell Grandmother, so she lied the best she could and said I still wasn't home. I was fully expecting them to fucking blow up on me for intimating I was home when I wasn't. Luckily, it wasn't about that. Mother asked me for something else, I don't remember, but she didn't ask me any questions about my whereabouts beyond what I had told her.
And since getting back, they still haven't asked. They don't know the full story about where I went and about how I basically disobeyed them.
---
The weekend was very icy. That goddamn Christmas shower we had kept the snowfall totals down, thankfully, but it created the ice that led to all that rocky shit at the bottom of the driveway starting on Saturday. Moreover, there was a lot of ice that stuck to my parents' minivan over the weekend.
It got so bad that, apparently, one of the side doors would not fully close. I suspected this driving it from my parents' store to home; whenever I'd make a turn the lights in the back would turn on, only to turn off once I straightened out. It got worse when I started to drive to the airport; when I started the car the lights in the back would not turn off. At first I thought it was just the car -- it's a beat-up work van and my parents are letting a lot of things go on it -- but tugging at the driver's side side door would turn off the "open door" light on the dashboard and the lights in the car. Ah, so it had to be the door! I'm driving with a door ajar!! How fun!!!
Well, it wouldn't be, if this is not something my parents had let go and, in fact, is something that is fucked up. While driving I started to panic about them flying in in a good mood because I gave Father some right football picks for a change, and then they'd get pissed off at me because this door light on the dash has been on the whole time -- "That's danger! Do something!! What's a matter with you?!?!?!"
But then I turned on the defrost at full blast. I didn't think it'd generate enough heat to go beyond the windshield and begin to melt the ice to the side of the car, but it appears to have done that, because when I finally got to the airport I tugged at the door from the inside and heard something lurch. And when I got out and pulled the handle, unlike previous attempts, it opened pretty much immediately. Phew! Now I won't have to answer questions about how I could drive the car with a door open.
And they never have to know.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Another House Party, Another Dick-Showing Opportunity?
All these years of going to this strip club is starting to pay off.
I have earned the trust of yet another girl, who's been working there for a couple years but who's only given me a lap dance the past week or so. I got another one from her last night, and after subtly asking if she has plans New Year's Day, she revealed that she too does house parties. I gave her my number (in front of the bouncer -- I'm so in!), and she says -- says -- she'll call me to see if she is indeed working a party New Year's Eve. That'd be perfect for me because I have nothing to do.
Man, what a way to start the New Year; surprising this "mature" MILF by "showing her how she makes me feel!" Hopefully this won't be at some Aryan biker bar where they'll lynch me for not being white.
I have earned the trust of yet another girl, who's been working there for a couple years but who's only given me a lap dance the past week or so. I got another one from her last night, and after subtly asking if she has plans New Year's Day, she revealed that she too does house parties. I gave her my number (in front of the bouncer -- I'm so in!), and she says -- says -- she'll call me to see if she is indeed working a party New Year's Eve. That'd be perfect for me because I have nothing to do.
Man, what a way to start the New Year; surprising this "mature" MILF by "showing her how she makes me feel!" Hopefully this won't be at some Aryan biker bar where they'll lynch me for not being white.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
More Snow Trouble -- Now It's Ice!
It was still snowing a bit today/yesterday/Saturday, but not enough to concern me. My snowplow (when it works) can plow just this type of snow just fine but the amount's so tiny I shouldn't be using it.
No, I now have another problem: rocky ice. It's the precipitation that fell not exactly as ice Christmas Day, but froze come Christmas Night. And the city was so helpful in plowing all that shit onto the base of our driveway just before it hardened. So I woke up Saturday with this huge mound of rocks I needed to drive over. And I did -- but not before tearing off the bottom of my car. Fuck, I have to go get it reattached again.
I have spent the past few days using an ice scraper/breaker/chipper to get that removed, but it's difficult. You can't shovel that because it's virtually stuck to the pavement, and it ain't easy getting under that whole pile to uproot it. Compounding all that is the heavy, wet snow, which means I have to carry all that and tax my heart some more. I've got it down to small mounds, but I'm so sore I'm going to leave it at that.
Aside: Everything that was wet is now ice hard. Funny to not only see these rocks I have to scrape off the driveway, but to throw them onto my lawn. They don't pock through the snow; since it's hard, they bounce off of it, like a hardwood floor. Cripes!
No, I now have another problem: rocky ice. It's the precipitation that fell not exactly as ice Christmas Day, but froze come Christmas Night. And the city was so helpful in plowing all that shit onto the base of our driveway just before it hardened. So I woke up Saturday with this huge mound of rocks I needed to drive over. And I did -- but not before tearing off the bottom of my car. Fuck, I have to go get it reattached again.
I have spent the past few days using an ice scraper/breaker/chipper to get that removed, but it's difficult. You can't shovel that because it's virtually stuck to the pavement, and it ain't easy getting under that whole pile to uproot it. Compounding all that is the heavy, wet snow, which means I have to carry all that and tax my heart some more. I've got it down to small mounds, but I'm so sore I'm going to leave it at that.
Aside: Everything that was wet is now ice hard. Funny to not only see these rocks I have to scrape off the driveway, but to throw them onto my lawn. They don't pock through the snow; since it's hard, they bounce off of it, like a hardwood floor. Cripes!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A Happy Ending To The Snowblower Incident
Tried to get the fuckin' snowblower to work again today, but couldn't. So I had a long shovel ahead of me.
Dumping snow down the driveway, I saw an apparition. It was my sister's best friend, checking up on us. She helped me look over the snowblower. We tried some things, and by God, it worked!
And then it didn't. This heavy, wet snow just slayed the big-ass snowplow we have. This thing was slowly oozing logs of slush out of the chute instead of projectile-vomiting it. Soon it got stuck and stopped spinning/auguring; a few more seconds of trying to get it to go and throw snow and it began to smoke. After a few more stalls, I gave up. I can't believe this hulking monster of a snow thrower couldn't do the job while my sister's best friend's snowblower, a tiny little thing, was making its way up and down my driveway. In fact, she plowed the driveway. I was using the plastic clear-out tool after she got done.
Now I need to figure out why it didn't start in the first place -- was it the spark plug, not enough gasoline, not enough oil, I need to plug it in longer, plug it in for less time, what? And what is this about the blades not spinning? Is it because of, like, the spark plug wire or is it something more serious? All of this I need to solve before the next snowstorm.
Even though I should keep this blog's focus on how my life sucks, thank Buddha my sister's best friend came around to bail my ass. I don't think I can ever repay her.
Dumping snow down the driveway, I saw an apparition. It was my sister's best friend, checking up on us. She helped me look over the snowblower. We tried some things, and by God, it worked!
And then it didn't. This heavy, wet snow just slayed the big-ass snowplow we have. This thing was slowly oozing logs of slush out of the chute instead of projectile-vomiting it. Soon it got stuck and stopped spinning/auguring; a few more seconds of trying to get it to go and throw snow and it began to smoke. After a few more stalls, I gave up. I can't believe this hulking monster of a snow thrower couldn't do the job while my sister's best friend's snowblower, a tiny little thing, was making its way up and down my driveway. In fact, she plowed the driveway. I was using the plastic clear-out tool after she got done.
Now I need to figure out why it didn't start in the first place -- was it the spark plug, not enough gasoline, not enough oil, I need to plug it in longer, plug it in for less time, what? And what is this about the blades not spinning? Is it because of, like, the spark plug wire or is it something more serious? All of this I need to solve before the next snowstorm.
Even though I should keep this blog's focus on how my life sucks, thank Buddha my sister's best friend came around to bail my ass. I don't think I can ever repay her.
Friday, December 25, 2009
The Three Perennial Christmas Commercials
This actually is a little late; I should've blogged about this before I slept last night, but I had to talk about the goddamn snowblower. But the one tradition I as a Buddhist look forward to every holiday season are the commercials that are re-aired every year. Before it becomes Dec. 26, thereby making this blog post irrelevant, here are the three yearly commercials I see every Christmas, as far as I know.
The third best is from Corona:
The second best is from Budweiser. This and the Corona ad are virtually interchangeable, but I put this second because the voiceover was done one year (which is the ad I've embedded here) by, I think, George Clooney:
But far and away, the greatest Christmas commercial of all time is the Hershey's Kisses one where the kisses act like the shape that they are -- bells:
Hope you are continuing to have a Merry Christmas, everyone!
The third best is from Corona:
The second best is from Budweiser. This and the Corona ad are virtually interchangeable, but I put this second because the voiceover was done one year (which is the ad I've embedded here) by, I think, George Clooney:
But far and away, the greatest Christmas commercial of all time is the Hershey's Kisses one where the kisses act like the shape that they are -- bells:
Hope you are continuing to have a Merry Christmas, everyone!
Goddamn Snowblower Doesn't Work
This will be the first of a few blog posts about this "Snowpocalypse."
Goddamn snowblower doesn't work. My Fucking Father laid into me the first time it didn't work. I thought it was because it needed time to juice up, but I put the plug in last night and it still doesn't fucking work. Piece of shit.
I'm not going anywhere today but am tomorrow, and since there'll be snow falling through Saturday I needed to get a jump on this. Thank Buddha my 'Rents weren't home, for that allowed me to go out about 90 minutes ago and get some shoveling in.
I was going to give myself at most an hour because I feared the weight of the snow. It was worse than I anticipated. This storm was fed by the Gulf Of Mexico so it's wet snow, heavy snow, "heart attack" snow. I know this firsthand; about a decade-and-a-half ago my Grandmother was shoveling snow while we were inside. She laid down in her bed and started wheezing a lot. Eventually we stopped watching TV and realized she needed help. We got our Uncle to take her to the hospital where they diagnosed her with a heart attack and said she needed a quadruple bypass.
She won't ever shovel again; I'll see to that. Unfortunately I was relying on this piece-of-shit snow blower so I wouldn't have to shovel, either. But I did, and as soon as I dug the shovel and plowed it through the first tract of snow on the driveway, I knew I had lost. It's fuckin' heavy, dude. And I felt a twinge up my left side as soon as threw the snow on my shovel off to the side. The positive I wanted to take from shoveling now is getting some exercise in, but I think the only thing I exercised was my heart muscle, and it still feels like it's about to fucking explode.
This was when I started cursing Father. The shovel I used is metal and has a shallow bucket. It's heavy carrying it around as is, so it only got heavier as I scooped up the snow, and when I dumped it I still felt the weight of the shovel so it felt like I hadn't dumped out the snow at all. Every fucking winter whenever I use that goddamn thing I think My Father went into fucking Menards and just bought the first goddamn shovel he saw. Really, Pops, you couldn't find a lighter shovel? This has to be the worst shovel on Earth, right? So I look online ... and experts say it really doesn't matter! Dammit, shoveling snow sucks no matter what tool you use, isn't it? Fuck!
Still, I perservered, driving the snow down the driveway as much as possible, with each subsequent pass about half the length of the attempt before, then waddling over one of the sides of the driveway and tossing it over so that the pristine white is pocked with this gray clump. I didn't really think I could make it to an hour; I spent most of my time stopping, spacing out, wondering if anybody would come across me if my heart suddenly blew out my chest, and I would begin to have a seizure and vomit blood and fall on the ground to spasm until all the blood drained out of me. There were only one or two cars (one of them going and coming back) I saw driving down the street the hour I was there, I think, so I'm pretty sure I would've died. Too bad -- having the night virtually to myself was another of the things that I had looked forward to while shoveling way early in the morning.
I had to stop. There are two or three bare tracks that curve and slice down the driveway, and since it's still snowing it'll be like I never stepped out this morning when I come back in the afternoon. I'll try the thrower again, but there's a spark plug that needs to be replaced or something because I don't think that fucker's going to work. And I need all this snow, plus the snow yet to fall, off of the driveway by the time I leave for work Saturday morning. Fuck me.
If I die of a heart attack shoveling, let this be my last words.
Goddamn snowblower doesn't work. My Fucking Father laid into me the first time it didn't work. I thought it was because it needed time to juice up, but I put the plug in last night and it still doesn't fucking work. Piece of shit.
I'm not going anywhere today but am tomorrow, and since there'll be snow falling through Saturday I needed to get a jump on this. Thank Buddha my 'Rents weren't home, for that allowed me to go out about 90 minutes ago and get some shoveling in.
I was going to give myself at most an hour because I feared the weight of the snow. It was worse than I anticipated. This storm was fed by the Gulf Of Mexico so it's wet snow, heavy snow, "heart attack" snow. I know this firsthand; about a decade-and-a-half ago my Grandmother was shoveling snow while we were inside. She laid down in her bed and started wheezing a lot. Eventually we stopped watching TV and realized she needed help. We got our Uncle to take her to the hospital where they diagnosed her with a heart attack and said she needed a quadruple bypass.
She won't ever shovel again; I'll see to that. Unfortunately I was relying on this piece-of-shit snow blower so I wouldn't have to shovel, either. But I did, and as soon as I dug the shovel and plowed it through the first tract of snow on the driveway, I knew I had lost. It's fuckin' heavy, dude. And I felt a twinge up my left side as soon as threw the snow on my shovel off to the side. The positive I wanted to take from shoveling now is getting some exercise in, but I think the only thing I exercised was my heart muscle, and it still feels like it's about to fucking explode.
This was when I started cursing Father. The shovel I used is metal and has a shallow bucket. It's heavy carrying it around as is, so it only got heavier as I scooped up the snow, and when I dumped it I still felt the weight of the shovel so it felt like I hadn't dumped out the snow at all. Every fucking winter whenever I use that goddamn thing I think My Father went into fucking Menards and just bought the first goddamn shovel he saw. Really, Pops, you couldn't find a lighter shovel? This has to be the worst shovel on Earth, right? So I look online ... and experts say it really doesn't matter! Dammit, shoveling snow sucks no matter what tool you use, isn't it? Fuck!
Still, I perservered, driving the snow down the driveway as much as possible, with each subsequent pass about half the length of the attempt before, then waddling over one of the sides of the driveway and tossing it over so that the pristine white is pocked with this gray clump. I didn't really think I could make it to an hour; I spent most of my time stopping, spacing out, wondering if anybody would come across me if my heart suddenly blew out my chest, and I would begin to have a seizure and vomit blood and fall on the ground to spasm until all the blood drained out of me. There were only one or two cars (one of them going and coming back) I saw driving down the street the hour I was there, I think, so I'm pretty sure I would've died. Too bad -- having the night virtually to myself was another of the things that I had looked forward to while shoveling way early in the morning.
I had to stop. There are two or three bare tracks that curve and slice down the driveway, and since it's still snowing it'll be like I never stepped out this morning when I come back in the afternoon. I'll try the thrower again, but there's a spark plug that needs to be replaced or something because I don't think that fucker's going to work. And I need all this snow, plus the snow yet to fall, off of the driveway by the time I leave for work Saturday morning. Fuck me.
If I die of a heart attack shoveling, let this be my last words.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -5). In a week both quiet and mediocre, Tubby Smith's guys finally (I think) reach the top. The Gophs' 30-point immolation of South Dakota St. gives the team a five-game winning streak. It's all well and good, and the opponents they've run over aren't complete unkowns (St. Joseph's and Northern Illinois) and are Division I, but it's safe to say that you can tell nothing about this team beyond the fact they lost to slightly tougher teams such as Miami and Texas A&M. It's awesome that Blake Hoffarber was named Big Ten Conference Player Of The Week and seemingly has found his shot after losing it last year. But I haven't seen this vaunted depth people keep talking about, and it won't be tested until they start conference play, which is Tuesday at home (for the sixth straight game -- is it a coincidence they've won all those games?) against Penn St.
#-2: Wild (Last Week: -6). They won two and they lost two. The Wild lost and won a game at home and on the road. Perfectly even. Besides getting blown out at Ottawa, nothing stands out. As it stands now, they are in 12th place in the Western Conference, four points from The Team That Was Stolen From Us (and by the way, look at the standings page on the Wild website. They list the teams by conference, not division. It looks wrong, but really, when you think about it, besides figuring out who wins the divisions, this is how it should be listed). No rest for the wicked -- they have three games this week: hosting St. Louis Christmas Post, then back-to-back games at the Southland teams Monday and Tuesday.
#-3: Timberwolves (Last Week: -8). This team also went 2-2, losing and winning both home and away. I put the Wolves lower because, let's face it, this team ain't goin' nowhere. I was at the Sacramento game Friday and was shocked at how thoroughly Tyreke Evans and the Bastard Cincinnati Royals; from what I heard about their comeback from a 35-point deficit to Chicago, their loss was the wake-up call that drove them to play some kick-ass ball. Anyway, I looked through the stat page in the free program you get for every game ... and none of the Woofie Dogs are on the leaderboard for any of the categories. Hey, fuck this season, right? Their last three games of the year are home to Washington Saturday (featuring the homecoming of The Greatest Coach The Franchise Has Ever Known, Flip Saunders), at San Antonio Tuesday, then immediately back to Target Center to face Utah Wednesday, a game I hope to attend.
#-4: Vikings (Last Week: -1). Ah, now begins the collapse. That pathetic 26-7 loss to the Carolina Panthers -- the Carolina Panthers!!! -- was so insulting because I know that when they decide to play, the Vikings would kill that team, but nothing got on track, nothing. The offensive line proved to be a joke, Adrian Peterson looks like a waste of a player, Antoine Winfield was beaten badly on that touchdown to Steve Smith and, worst of all, Brett Favre looked old and, later in the game, desperate in chucking the ball like it was recess.
But then the real fallout began. Favre ratted on Head Coach Brad Childress, saying that he wanted to take him out of the game when they were only trailing 7-6. Tom Powers of the St. Paul Pioneer Press reported that Childress was told he was thrown under the bus by Favre after he took a shower, and then, wearing only a towel, started yelling at his assistant coaches. As with any bit of juicy drama confirmed or even started by the principles, all the other bad news and rumors came out: Pro Football Talk came out with the news that this is the third time Childress wanted to pull Favre from a game, and ex-Packer great and former Favre teammate LeRoy Butler said in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, and I am assuming in a snide way, that Favre is a diva and shouldn't have showed up Childress.
They're both wrong; Favre shouldn't've talked about an argument he said in Wednesday's press conference was behind them, but Childress shouldn't've thought about pulling him from the game. At the very least you change the blocking protection so that there is another guy helping out McKinnie or his replacement, Artis Hicks, so that Julius Peppers doesn't keep bumping uglies with Favre on every goddamn play. But there are two overarching points that should be emphasized. First, this is all moot if they can run the ball, and it's probably the faul of both the line and Peterson that they haven't been able to do that because A.D. hasn't hit 100 yards in the last five games. Also just as important is that Favre's passing production has deflated at precisely the same time as previous years. Many experts have noted that #4's arm seems to be fine for only the first three-quarters of the season; after that, according to the stats, it declines precipitously. He has outright sucked since the Cardinals loss, and I don't think he's going to find his mojo in cold Chicago, a place he famously hates to play. So what happens if he comes out of the gate sucking Monday night. Does Childress have the balls to pull him? Can Peterson in order to keep that scenario speculation?
#-Infinity: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: 0). OK, so like I thought, they lost to Texas. I really didn't want to see them get swept so viciously by Texas, but I was afraid that was going to happen when you have a taller, bigger team. But I still have to state what I said last week: It's weird to be so happy about a team when its season ends short of a championship, but yet I didn't expect this team to go so far. Their Final Four appearance, the Final Four banner that they'll get to unfurl beginning next year, and their #4 ranking in the last AVCA Top 25 poll is something to be proud of. Hopefully this Ashley Wittman girl, the Shakopee senior and Gatorade Player Of The Year in her sport, will be the difference. By the way, congratulations to Hailey Cowles. The Outside Hitter, and not Lauren Gibbemeyer or Tabitha Love, was the only non-finalist named to the Final Four All-Tournament Team.
#-2: Wild (Last Week: -6). They won two and they lost two. The Wild lost and won a game at home and on the road. Perfectly even. Besides getting blown out at Ottawa, nothing stands out. As it stands now, they are in 12th place in the Western Conference, four points from The Team That Was Stolen From Us (and by the way, look at the standings page on the Wild website. They list the teams by conference, not division. It looks wrong, but really, when you think about it, besides figuring out who wins the divisions, this is how it should be listed). No rest for the wicked -- they have three games this week: hosting St. Louis Christmas Post, then back-to-back games at the Southland teams Monday and Tuesday.
#-3: Timberwolves (Last Week: -8). This team also went 2-2, losing and winning both home and away. I put the Wolves lower because, let's face it, this team ain't goin' nowhere. I was at the Sacramento game Friday and was shocked at how thoroughly Tyreke Evans and the Bastard Cincinnati Royals; from what I heard about their comeback from a 35-point deficit to Chicago, their loss was the wake-up call that drove them to play some kick-ass ball. Anyway, I looked through the stat page in the free program you get for every game ... and none of the Woofie Dogs are on the leaderboard for any of the categories. Hey, fuck this season, right? Their last three games of the year are home to Washington Saturday (featuring the homecoming of The Greatest Coach The Franchise Has Ever Known, Flip Saunders), at San Antonio Tuesday, then immediately back to Target Center to face Utah Wednesday, a game I hope to attend.
#-4: Vikings (Last Week: -1). Ah, now begins the collapse. That pathetic 26-7 loss to the Carolina Panthers -- the Carolina Panthers!!! -- was so insulting because I know that when they decide to play, the Vikings would kill that team, but nothing got on track, nothing. The offensive line proved to be a joke, Adrian Peterson looks like a waste of a player, Antoine Winfield was beaten badly on that touchdown to Steve Smith and, worst of all, Brett Favre looked old and, later in the game, desperate in chucking the ball like it was recess.
But then the real fallout began. Favre ratted on Head Coach Brad Childress, saying that he wanted to take him out of the game when they were only trailing 7-6. Tom Powers of the St. Paul Pioneer Press reported that Childress was told he was thrown under the bus by Favre after he took a shower, and then, wearing only a towel, started yelling at his assistant coaches. As with any bit of juicy drama confirmed or even started by the principles, all the other bad news and rumors came out: Pro Football Talk came out with the news that this is the third time Childress wanted to pull Favre from a game, and ex-Packer great and former Favre teammate LeRoy Butler said in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, and I am assuming in a snide way, that Favre is a diva and shouldn't have showed up Childress.
They're both wrong; Favre shouldn't've talked about an argument he said in Wednesday's press conference was behind them, but Childress shouldn't've thought about pulling him from the game. At the very least you change the blocking protection so that there is another guy helping out McKinnie or his replacement, Artis Hicks, so that Julius Peppers doesn't keep bumping uglies with Favre on every goddamn play. But there are two overarching points that should be emphasized. First, this is all moot if they can run the ball, and it's probably the faul of both the line and Peterson that they haven't been able to do that because A.D. hasn't hit 100 yards in the last five games. Also just as important is that Favre's passing production has deflated at precisely the same time as previous years. Many experts have noted that #4's arm seems to be fine for only the first three-quarters of the season; after that, according to the stats, it declines precipitously. He has outright sucked since the Cardinals loss, and I don't think he's going to find his mojo in cold Chicago, a place he famously hates to play. So what happens if he comes out of the gate sucking Monday night. Does Childress have the balls to pull him? Can Peterson in order to keep that scenario speculation?
#-Infinity: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: 0). OK, so like I thought, they lost to Texas. I really didn't want to see them get swept so viciously by Texas, but I was afraid that was going to happen when you have a taller, bigger team. But I still have to state what I said last week: It's weird to be so happy about a team when its season ends short of a championship, but yet I didn't expect this team to go so far. Their Final Four appearance, the Final Four banner that they'll get to unfurl beginning next year, and their #4 ranking in the last AVCA Top 25 poll is something to be proud of. Hopefully this Ashley Wittman girl, the Shakopee senior and Gatorade Player Of The Year in her sport, will be the difference. By the way, congratulations to Hailey Cowles. The Outside Hitter, and not Lauren Gibbemeyer or Tabitha Love, was the only non-finalist named to the Final Four All-Tournament Team.
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