6.29.2006

No, I'm not ready for some football

I’m not much on sports. It wasn’t until college that I figured out what “RBI” meant. “Roast Beef International” didn’t seem to fit and now I’m glad I was corrected. Still “Runners Batted In” is kind of nebulous to me in the realm of statistics. I mean, I don’t know how it applies and I don’t want to know. Even if you told me, I’d still feel like I missed something, as in “to be in sports you must start early” – kind of like when you transfer to a new high school in 11th grade and you graduate with strangers.

Oh wait I did that too. Now you know why it’s hard for me to like sports…. kind of…

Football is just as bad. I remember watching a game that was in a place where cartoons should have been. It showed a bunch of guys standing around. When there was action, it didn’t last for long. Some guy knocked the other guy down with the ball. “Don’t do it! He’s just going to knock you down again!” is what I thought. My wife explained football to me. It seems like a lot of effort.

Tennis. A tennis match can last for weeks summed up in grunts, applause and tight shorts. The less said about this, the better…

Hockey seems like fun, but I can’t get past the ice skating thing. It just doesn’t seem like people should move on ice with sharp metal on their feet. But that’s just me.

Basketball is a sport that I like to watch at a minimum. That should say a lot. But don’t watch a game by saying “I think I’ll pay attention to how much the shoes squeak” because it’s hard to get away from it.

Golf. I’m sorry – I almost fell asleep after typing that word. Moving on…

In short, I wasn’t born with the sports brain implant that a lot of guys get at birth. And I’m okay with that. I use to joke that when you are watching the Super Bowl, I’m out with your girlfriend. That was so not the case. Chances are I was asleep somewhere. But don’t feel bad for me, I was probably watching golf.

6.24.2006

YAWN

Sleep. Sleep is probably one of the greatest inventions ever. The ability to just collapse and snore with great gusto and relax into the realm of REM is most enjoyable - except for the spouse who is still awake and has to endure your arrival in Grinding Hippo Bones-land.

The miracle of sleep is lost on many. Insomniacs, as they are known, have trouble getting to the blissful state of sounding like a chainsaw cutting through chilled pig fat down a cement well. It must be terrible for them not knowing how easily sound like an elephant caught in giant rubber muzzle while being poked with pontoon boats.

It's important to always get the right amount of hours of rest. Some require 8, some 10, others 6 - but if you require 12, I suggest you start on caffiene. The amount of sleep I need depends, not on the quantity, but on when I start or stop. If I go to sleep at 11, I can get up at 4am and be fine (though I don't want to try that, let's keep that in theory)

As for snoring, there is a simple cure - go to sleep before your mate. Do you what you can to beat the person that sounds like a yak giving birth to bagpipes in a sheet metal factory.

You'll be glad you did.

6.16.2006

Non-update Update

Hi Ho!

This update is to tell ya'll that there is no update this week. Again? Yes. The fact is, I'm doing a little thing called Ichthus in Wilmore, KY workin' a booth makin' overtime.

Oh yeah.

So, my rambling bamblings are on hold as I sweat in the dusty heat.

I'll be back soon enough...

Meanwhile, drop a line here and let me know what you are up to!

Later,

e.

6.09.2006

I'll get that ... and that .... and ... hold on...

I try to be chivalrous. I really do. It’s just that this world of convenience is starting to make it a little harder. Despite any equal rights activists trying to beat me up for wanting to open a door for a female, I already have problems with the general design of entrances.

I’m talking about Breezeways. If you have never heard of the term, you are now enlightened to know that the Breezeway is the area that is almost inside a building. I mean, it is inside the building but it really isn’t your final destination. It’s a limbo of glass and tile and though may look pleasant, people try to get in and out of there as fast as possible except for the poor dope that’s waiting for a ride – he’s stuck in limbo. He’s done with the building yet has no where to go outside and yet waits for his savior in a Ford Taurus who will announce boldly, “dude, sorry I’m late - I got caught up in traffic.”

The Breezeway serves a funnction of being a barrier between the delicate store architecture, design and merchandise and the harsh reality of uncontrollable weather that, when colliding pressure systems send forth wind, a unwelcomed leaf or gala of rain drops come oh so near to the pile of striped sweaters on display. The Breezeway is a corporate “mudroom” that apparently some houses have. I’m in an apartment so what do I know?

Despite the advantages of Breezeways, including sounding like a race horse name, there came a social change that creeped in without us being aware of it - and that is doors. Breezeways contain many doors. Like the locks in the Panama Cannel, you go through door after door until you reach into the inner sanctum of your Macy’s or Wendy’s. This poses a problem for those of us who still want to be chivalrous and open the door for our wives, girlfriends, interests and stalk-ees. Which frickin’ door do you open?
Common Sense would say the first door and when you succeed, the beautiful creature is accosted by another door in her path.

This calls for wisdom.

Do you….

a.) Let her get the door herself?

If you do, you pretty much are hoping that your effort wasn’t cancelled out. Maybe females understand this and credit your initial door opening anyway. It’s risky to ask.

b.) Open every door?

Here you open the door, let her walk in and then quickly squeeze around her and then go and prop open the next door. Repeat until she is fully inside the building. One can use furniture and items not bolted down to aid in clearing a straight path for her to enter. However, this will create a wind tunnel effect and, unless she hurries, a tornado will ensue devistating her, her hair and the patrons inside including any merchandise.

c.) Never open a door for someone

Very common nowadays, but this solves nothing for chivalry-minded males

d.) Never go out again.

This is the most reasonable course of action. Avoiding all female contact removes the issue entirely. I suggest moving North and into less populated areas – maybe the Northwest Territory. Chivalry is becoming too dangerous.

6.02.2006

Wide Load

I noticed an ugly trend and I’m not sure where it’s going to stop. TVs have gotten WAY of out of hand with this width thing. I just saw that 60 inch TVs are now out. 60 inches? Whatever for? Is there a reason to see if Paula Abdul has a hangnail? What purpose is there for such a feature?

If it’s a flat panel, I’m assuming its in rebellion to seeing those large mirrors you saw hanging on the wall at Grandma’s house. The fact that mirrors exist in that size outside of a bathroom still gets the same question from me. Whatever for?
If you say “It makes the room look larger” then I’m afraid for our country in thinking that we can easily be duped by such an ancient technology much like a bird to a patio door.

“Look! There’s a portal to another room! It looks so familiar yet … Hey! That guy looks like me!”

But I digress. Plasma TVs can be hung on a wall like a picture, so instead of a tasteful painting of a lighthouse, you can have William Shatner in a wetsuit or Paris Hilton’s head smirk at a painting of a lighthouse. What I don’t get is why you want such a high resolution to witness such things. Grainy black and white added more to the imagination and if you really want to argue the point of “it’s just like being there” let me remind you of the William Shatner image up above.

Sometimes it’s best to leave things the way they are. And if you don’t believe me, just ask your clone you saw in Grandma’s Magic Portal.