No that isn't a play on words. It's something that I was painfully forced to realize today. I spent the night at my sister and brother-in-laws apartment in downtown Cleveland last night. As I left this morning I discovered I had a flat tire. If you've ever had a flat tire then you know the painful sound it makes but if you haven't let me describe it to you. It's like your car is dying with every single bump you hit. The smallest shift in the road and your car lets out an agonyzing thud. You know it's a flat tire so you pull over to check hoping it's anything else. Here's the thing, I know nothing about cars so regardless of what the issue was I would've needed to call a tow company anyways. Sure enough, right front tire flat. I call and the tow company (who is less then a mile away from where I was) who takes a half hour to get there. Oh well, it is what it is. The guy changes my tire in less then 5 minutes and tells me my spare looks like it needs a little air, charges me 45 dollars and then is on his way.
I get in my car headed towards a gas station to fill my spare just to be safe. He was not kidding...
I got maybe a 1/10th of a mile down the road before I realize I'm literally driving on the rim of my now flat spare tire. Flat spare tire, it sounds like the name of a really trendy band or a terrible situation. I was in the latter. I call the tow company who comes back, only 15 minutes this time, and tows my car to their garage, apologizing the whole way for not realizing the error in their ways.
After about 20 minutes they say they've patched up the old tire, inflated both the spare and the real one and that, in reality, I should get new tires because mine are pretty worn. They only charge me 15 bucks and apologize for the whole thing and told me they were sorry about my luck. To be honest, they were really helpful and pretty decent about the whole thing. What made me laugh though was him saying "sorry about your luck."
All and all I'd say my luck was pretty good. I've driven two cars in almost 8 years and, knock on wood, only had two issues ever really and they were both flat tires. My luck would've sucked if the tire waited to leak air on the highway or blew out entirely. It'd be even worse if it caused an accident. Also, to be frank, was he really THAT sorry? I mean, he makes money off of people needing repairs. He told me he felt bad that this inconvenienced my day which to an extent it did but has anyone ever NOT be inconvenienced by car troubles?
People plan an extra 15 minutes all the time for traffic but no one ever says, "Hey I better plan an extra two hours today because I plan on having a flat." When it does happen everyone tends to have the, "No, not today! Not Now!!!" feeling. Me, I'm taking the high road approach to this situation. Yes it was stupid, but no one was hurt, it didn't cost too much money, and the repair people were pretty nice.
And i mean, come on... who can say they've ever heard a mechanic say, "Yep, what you've got here is a flat spare"? All and all pretty funny. That being said, next time I get a flat tire I request the powers that be let it be on a day when the temperature isn't 15 degrees.
Have a good new years eve everyone.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
hiatus.... over
Ok so it's been wayyyyy too long since I wrote. Chalk it up to laziness or finals but it's been two holidays since I wrote and a lot has happened. That being said I don't really want to talk about any of it so we'll move on to other things. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving and an even better Christmas. One of my New Year's resolutions is to write a lot more frequently so we'll see if I actually follow through. As for the important matters of the last few months... Turkeybowl 09-Schlongs win on a myrch to myrch option 7-6. Great game. You can check out the details and hilarious stories at lcturkeybowl.org. The official turkey bowl website.
The Browns have won 3 games in a row, hired Holmgren, and are showing just enough signs of promise that we, as browns fans, can have false hopes all off season. The Cavs finished off their big west coast road trip by blasting the Suns in their own house, shutting out the Kings in overtime, and then ripping apart a very whiny Lakers team. Never before have I lost so much respect for a franchise in one game. Yes Phil Jackson the ref's were awful, but they were awful on both sides. You didn't see LeBron crying every time he didn't get to the free throw line. Kobe pouts more than a 5 year old not getting his way, Fisher is a complete dirty player, and apparently our bigs are just fine. I'm not going to complain about the fan base because, as a friend correctly pointed out, that's a small minority and as a browns fan I can respect not judging the whole fan base on a few idiots. I hope the cavs play like that from here on out, but it's a long season. we shall see...
Tiger Woods is an idiot and a scum bag... nothing more need be written.
Some of the perks about being home for the holidays is definitely family, free meals, a clean bed to sleep in and not having to worry about paying for the electric or water. The bad news is that in a week I'll be back in my apartment, putting away Christmas decorations. The season comes and goes so fast it seems. Until next year Grinch, The Meiser Brothers, and Muppet's Christmas carol... be well.
One of my favorite things about being home is getting to hang out with my 3 year old niece Gracie and her new little brother Anderson. While Anderson, at only a few months, is too young to do much other than hang out in your arms, Gracie has very much become a miniature person. At 3, she might be the smartest toddler I've ever met and that's not me being bias. My favorite thing she does is how she narrates her life. Just this afternoon I heard this little story after she ate lunch....
"OK bubba (she calls me bubba), Now I'm going to go play with Nana. We're going to get my dolls from up in her room then we're gonna bring them down here and clean up. My mouth is blue from my ice cream. I want to play. We're going to go home to my house and play with my princesses there too. Bubba, we should probably sing a song. Look at me and Nana, We're twinsies!!!"
She also tells complete stories about hanging out with the Disney princesses and makes pretend phone calls to family members. If adults did this stuff they'd be crazy, but because she's 3 it might be the cutest thing ever.
Some few other quick hits-
-i recently discovered that you can't ever have enough hats and scarves.
-Garlic Christmas sausage is amazing
-buying multiple people matching Christmas gifts is not only awesome, but hilarious.
-People suck at driving. Yes it's snowing, don't freak out... just slow down
-43 days til a return to Vegas takes place
i apologize for the shortness of this post... better writing to come
I hope everyone has a fantastic new years, and if you have a resolution that you are able to stick with it.
"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man"
~Benjamin Franklin
The Browns have won 3 games in a row, hired Holmgren, and are showing just enough signs of promise that we, as browns fans, can have false hopes all off season. The Cavs finished off their big west coast road trip by blasting the Suns in their own house, shutting out the Kings in overtime, and then ripping apart a very whiny Lakers team. Never before have I lost so much respect for a franchise in one game. Yes Phil Jackson the ref's were awful, but they were awful on both sides. You didn't see LeBron crying every time he didn't get to the free throw line. Kobe pouts more than a 5 year old not getting his way, Fisher is a complete dirty player, and apparently our bigs are just fine. I'm not going to complain about the fan base because, as a friend correctly pointed out, that's a small minority and as a browns fan I can respect not judging the whole fan base on a few idiots. I hope the cavs play like that from here on out, but it's a long season. we shall see...
Tiger Woods is an idiot and a scum bag... nothing more need be written.
Some of the perks about being home for the holidays is definitely family, free meals, a clean bed to sleep in and not having to worry about paying for the electric or water. The bad news is that in a week I'll be back in my apartment, putting away Christmas decorations. The season comes and goes so fast it seems. Until next year Grinch, The Meiser Brothers, and Muppet's Christmas carol... be well.
One of my favorite things about being home is getting to hang out with my 3 year old niece Gracie and her new little brother Anderson. While Anderson, at only a few months, is too young to do much other than hang out in your arms, Gracie has very much become a miniature person. At 3, she might be the smartest toddler I've ever met and that's not me being bias. My favorite thing she does is how she narrates her life. Just this afternoon I heard this little story after she ate lunch....
"OK bubba (she calls me bubba), Now I'm going to go play with Nana. We're going to get my dolls from up in her room then we're gonna bring them down here and clean up. My mouth is blue from my ice cream. I want to play. We're going to go home to my house and play with my princesses there too. Bubba, we should probably sing a song. Look at me and Nana, We're twinsies!!!"
She also tells complete stories about hanging out with the Disney princesses and makes pretend phone calls to family members. If adults did this stuff they'd be crazy, but because she's 3 it might be the cutest thing ever.
Some few other quick hits-
-i recently discovered that you can't ever have enough hats and scarves.
-Garlic Christmas sausage is amazing
-buying multiple people matching Christmas gifts is not only awesome, but hilarious.
-People suck at driving. Yes it's snowing, don't freak out... just slow down
-43 days til a return to Vegas takes place
i apologize for the shortness of this post... better writing to come
I hope everyone has a fantastic new years, and if you have a resolution that you are able to stick with it.
"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man"
~Benjamin Franklin
Monday, November 16, 2009
Monday Night Football's comedy of errors
I love football. From August til January it fills up every single one of my weekends. College football games on Thursday nights and all day Saturday. NFL Sundays and then Monday Night Football after my night class. The problem though, is the way schedules work, or rather, television schedules. With college football regional coverage dominates and so we in Big(11)Ten country get to watch the same games every week. We rarely get to see west coast games or if they happen to be on it's usually on some obscure channel (case and point: USC/Stanford was on Foxsportsnet ohio last Saturday... hmm).
With the NFL, regional coverage also rules depending on what division the closest team is in. This means, in Cincinnati every Bengals game will be on (provided they sell enough tickets, or just give them away like usual) or the closest team otherwise. In most cases this means the Browns or Steelers games will be on CBS.
On Fox well, your choice most years is pretty much Dallas vs. whoever they're playing. This year, however, we also get to see every single Vikings Game. Gotta love the National Favre League. The main issue with this is that the games are scheduled a year in advance. This means that while the Sunday night game between the Colts and Patriots was a lock to be a great game and delivered, the majority of the country has no idea how good the Steelers/Bengals game was because it was played at 1 0' clock. Both games had huge playoff implications and yet one was played in prime time while the other was being played while most of the target audience was still nursing a hangover and trying to find out who has the best pizza deal this week.
This brings us to tonight's epic battle. My beloved Browns playing one of our rivals; the Baltimore thieves... I mean Ravens. How we received a prime time game I simply cannot figure out. See, these big time games are scheduled on a basis of the prior years results. It made sense for the Browns to have 5 prime time games last year. We were an "it" team. The analysts looked at our previous record, thought we'd be a trendy 2008 team and wanted to cash in on the moment. Had they actually watched the games they would've seen that, in reality, we were a team with a ton of holes that caught a lot of breaks. Of course, their plan backfired, we were garbage, and the nation got to watch us go down in flames. After the gigantic disappointment that was last year the Browns fired their coach and GM and then proceeded to slowly trade off high profile pieces. It was clear that this would be a rebuilding year. It's turned out to be much, much worse. This isn't a rebuilding year, it's a weekly train wreck. So who in the NFL offices decided, "You know what games I'd like to see? The Browns playing two rivals who are traditionally much better then them late in the season." Whoever it was better have been fired.
If this were to happen in the NBA or the MLB the league would simply flex a different game in so the country would get to watch the Yankees, or Kobe or Bron Bron but the physicality and preparation involved with football wouldn't allow this type of schedule switch in the NFL. Therefore we are left with a game that appears to be so lopsided that even ESPN couldn't figure out how to market for it. Has anyone else seen the MNF commercials for this week? The best thing they could say for the Browns is, "Could they play Monday Night Spoiler?" Wow. Spoiler is a word reserved for an unranked team shocking a top 25 team in a Coaches against Cancer preseason college basketball tournament, not a professional football team.
Sadly, it's pretty clear what is going to happen tonight. The Browns will look terrible, the Ravens defense will beat us up, and by the 3rd quarter Jaws and Gruden will be searching for things to talk about during the telecast (I'm guessing we get an endless barrage of arguments discussing whether or not Belichick was right or wrong last night.) The only difference this week is that the Browns will suck on national television. I'm guessing though, it won't be too embarrassing, seeing as how only 15 people outside of Baltimore and Cleveland will be watching this game.
The good thing about being a Browns fan though is our blind faith and endless love for our team. Therefore, I, like every other Clevelander will sport my bright orange Kiedrowski's Bakery shirt with the Brownie on the back, drink way too much and belligerently yell "Here we go Brownie's Here we Go!" at the TV until my face is read. I'll pray for win, hope for a great game, or at the very least a good game by Brady but I can promise that, at the very least, We'll enjoy watching the game. As for the rest of America, I apologize. You deserve better.
With the NFL, regional coverage also rules depending on what division the closest team is in. This means, in Cincinnati every Bengals game will be on (provided they sell enough tickets, or just give them away like usual) or the closest team otherwise. In most cases this means the Browns or Steelers games will be on CBS.
On Fox well, your choice most years is pretty much Dallas vs. whoever they're playing. This year, however, we also get to see every single Vikings Game. Gotta love the National Favre League. The main issue with this is that the games are scheduled a year in advance. This means that while the Sunday night game between the Colts and Patriots was a lock to be a great game and delivered, the majority of the country has no idea how good the Steelers/Bengals game was because it was played at 1 0' clock. Both games had huge playoff implications and yet one was played in prime time while the other was being played while most of the target audience was still nursing a hangover and trying to find out who has the best pizza deal this week.
This brings us to tonight's epic battle. My beloved Browns playing one of our rivals; the Baltimore thieves... I mean Ravens. How we received a prime time game I simply cannot figure out. See, these big time games are scheduled on a basis of the prior years results. It made sense for the Browns to have 5 prime time games last year. We were an "it" team. The analysts looked at our previous record, thought we'd be a trendy 2008 team and wanted to cash in on the moment. Had they actually watched the games they would've seen that, in reality, we were a team with a ton of holes that caught a lot of breaks. Of course, their plan backfired, we were garbage, and the nation got to watch us go down in flames. After the gigantic disappointment that was last year the Browns fired their coach and GM and then proceeded to slowly trade off high profile pieces. It was clear that this would be a rebuilding year. It's turned out to be much, much worse. This isn't a rebuilding year, it's a weekly train wreck. So who in the NFL offices decided, "You know what games I'd like to see? The Browns playing two rivals who are traditionally much better then them late in the season." Whoever it was better have been fired.
If this were to happen in the NBA or the MLB the league would simply flex a different game in so the country would get to watch the Yankees, or Kobe or Bron Bron but the physicality and preparation involved with football wouldn't allow this type of schedule switch in the NFL. Therefore we are left with a game that appears to be so lopsided that even ESPN couldn't figure out how to market for it. Has anyone else seen the MNF commercials for this week? The best thing they could say for the Browns is, "Could they play Monday Night Spoiler?" Wow. Spoiler is a word reserved for an unranked team shocking a top 25 team in a Coaches against Cancer preseason college basketball tournament, not a professional football team.
Sadly, it's pretty clear what is going to happen tonight. The Browns will look terrible, the Ravens defense will beat us up, and by the 3rd quarter Jaws and Gruden will be searching for things to talk about during the telecast (I'm guessing we get an endless barrage of arguments discussing whether or not Belichick was right or wrong last night.) The only difference this week is that the Browns will suck on national television. I'm guessing though, it won't be too embarrassing, seeing as how only 15 people outside of Baltimore and Cleveland will be watching this game.
The good thing about being a Browns fan though is our blind faith and endless love for our team. Therefore, I, like every other Clevelander will sport my bright orange Kiedrowski's Bakery shirt with the Brownie on the back, drink way too much and belligerently yell "Here we go Brownie's Here we Go!" at the TV until my face is read. I'll pray for win, hope for a great game, or at the very least a good game by Brady but I can promise that, at the very least, We'll enjoy watching the game. As for the rest of America, I apologize. You deserve better.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I find that the best way to write is as if you were a schizophrenic with ADD. All over the place, with no real direction, rhyme or reason. This works best when you're just ranting about things but you don't write often enough to give everything it's proper time and coverage. Works great for me. So over the past week or so I've noticed and learned some things that I figured was worth sharing. Here we go. Let's start with last night and the Damn Yankees (please don't sue me George Abbott).
As expected, the Yankees won their 27th World Series last night. Really I'm not at all surprised, and I'm sure just about everyone else feels the same way. You spend over a billion dollars a decade I suppose you should win at least one championship. Money might not buy happiness but it certainly buys big, shiny trophies. I don't want to talk about the victory though. Nor do I care about discussing A-rod, Matsui for some reason wining the MVP, or the always awkward 25 man celebratory jump hug at the middle of the diamond. I prefer to talk about the celebration, or perhaps better put, the celebratory headgear. It's widely accepted that after winning a championship of any kind in professional baseball the players shower each other with champagne and beer. The same is true for really any pro sport. At some point players started wearing swimming goggles. Fine, it looks stupid, but whatever. Trying to avoid getting alcohol in your eyes. I suppose that makes sense. However, somewhere along the way this has gotten way out of hand. They've now moved on to designer ski goggles. Last night the Yankees locker room looked like either a winter X-games exhibition or the filming of Out Cold 2. Not only are the goggles complete overkill, but the players leave them on while doing their interviews. Really? If ever there was a safe time, it's while your talking to Peter Gammons. No professional ball player would ever dare spray that man with anything. And if removing the goggles during interviews isn't possible there's always the most practical option: Stop spraying what I'm sure is ridiculously expensive champagne all over each other and actually try drinking some of it.
If this man isn't celebrating with you then just leave the goggles at homeOk, we can put baseball away now until spring training when I, as an Indians fan, will inexplicably get my hopes up again only to be crushed soon after. For now I'd like to discuss the Browns. Not the firing of our GM, effectively ending the ManCoke era (sorry Jay), but rather I'd like to point out something that Mangini said earlier in the week, just after another embarrassing loss. When questioned about who the starter would be (the reporter clearing expecting to hear a name starting with Q) Mangini replied that he wasn't sure because he thought, "We moved the ball well at times." Apparently less then 50 yards per quarter is moving the ball. I think the Saints average 50 yards per PLAY. This is at the surface of a much bigger issue I have with basically all of sports. Why can't coaches ever be honest. Why couldn't he just say, "Yeah that was garbage. I don't know why I keep putting DA in the game. He makes me look like a horse's ass every week." But no. He's looks at the camera and just lies to every Browns fan. You thought we moved the ball? The offenses in our Turkeybowl (coming very soon...) move the ball better then your team Mangini. Not to mention our play calling is WAY more imaginative. If you couple the Browns quarterback play on Sundays with Terrell Prior's god awful decision making and lack of an arm whatsoever on Saturdays, I contend that we have the worst combination of college/pro qb's in the country, maybe in history. In fact, I challenge anyone to come up with a more frustrating combination of weekend qb ineffectiveness. I won't hold my breath.
With all that being said I will bet the house against anyone that this weekend the Browns will NOT lose... any takers?
The Bengals had a bye week last weekend but this weekend they play the rival Ravens. (Is it just me or are the Ravens everyones rival now?) With the return of the Bengals comes the return of the single worst fan cheer, or calling card, or whatever you want to call it, ever. WHO DEY? I don't care how it originated, or why it still exists. It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. It sounds like they're trying to become the ghetto, illiterate branch of the army. Why is it DEY? are you that lazy Cincinnati? THEY is already a one syllable word. Is there really any need to shorten it?
Some quick hits...
-If a beer tastes awful, don't try to slow cook something in it. You can't change the flavor. It just soaks into the meat. Lesson learned.
-I wish I had the ability to not buy cheap movies. There is a Blockbuster closing down the street from me and I am now going in there once a week. I don't plan on buying something but when I see a movie for 5 bucks I HAVE to get it. Do I really need a 2nd copy of Mallrats? No, and yet I'm considering buying it because it's the collector's edition. I think I need a 12 step program to get away from that place.
-Secret girlfriend on Comedy Central is hilarious, and if you're not watching it... you should be. (there, happy Joe Bott?)
-If you're not careful, Hulu.com can take over your life.
-Taking a ricky bobby page... They actually need a "best movie ever made" Oscar... because I have a feeling that's the only way the Academy will be able to pay proper homage to AVATAR. I've totally bought into the incredible marketing job they've done for that movie. Either it will be amazing, or totally suck but either way it's making $300 million. You heard it here first.
Ok... time to go do real work now.
til next time, Na zdravie
-always work hard, never forget
it's better to fail, then live with regret-
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
A very cleveland night
Tonight is a big deal. Everyone who is from Ohio, watches basketball, or has ever heard of Lebron James knows this. Tonight is opening night for the NBA and our beloved Cleveland Cavaliers host the hated Boston Celtics. This marks, perhaps, the last possible chance for a Cleveland championship in any sport. It is, coincidentally, also the night that the Lakers receive their championship rings from last year.
Truth be told, the sports landscape in Cleveland has rarely ever been in the type of situation it is now. The Cleveland Browns hired a coach who the fans already hate. The quarterback everyone wants to start is on the bench and receives his mandatory once a quarter face time on TV while holding a clipboard. We traded away a chance at drafting a franchise player and also recently gave away our best receiver (however, that move was cheered by most brownie fans).
The Indians have recently finished up yet another disappointing season, finishing well below .500 and were out of the playoff race about 9 minutes into the season. We have now hired a new manager whose prior job was running the Washing Nationals, one of the few teams worse off then the Indians. To top all of that off we have traded away 3 all-stars in the past 18 months and now get to watch our two former Cy Young winners face off in the world series. (my heart silently weeps)
These two teams have consistently crushed the spirits of fans and yet we follow them because if nothing else we are loyal. For 2 out of the 3 big sport seasons every year we suffer, but then the end of October rolls around...
This basketball season offers a variety of elements that we simply aren't used to seeing in Northeastern Ohio. We have arguably the greatest player on the planet, the two biggest personalities in the league, an owner who openly says money is no object and backs it up, and a truly talented group of players surrounding Lebron. With this format it would seem that the Cavs are ready to compete for a decade at least. But if you follow the NBA at all you know the gigantic monkey wrench that can be thrown into this plan. Lebron is a free agent after this year and no one on Earth, himself included, knows where he'll be playing basketball next year.
If Lebron decides to leave his home state for the bright lights of bigger city the results could be literally the end of a city. Cleveland lives and breathes LBJ and without him I don't believe Cleveland will make it. That is how polarizing of a figure Bron Bron is. He has the ability to effect an entire city... just ask Braylon.
No one knows what the future will hold and throughout the year we will be pestered with the constant, "Where will he go?" questions. I don't know the answer, and I don't care. I'm going to take these next 7-8 months for what they are, a unique situation which we may never come across ever again. It may be cheesy but this year, I am a witness. He very well may end up staying in Cleveland. We could win the championship in June and Lebron could sign right then and there, giving C-town a reason to stick it to the rest of the country for once. But it doesn't matter because win or lose I'm going to enjoy every moment of every game with Lebron and Shaq and the rest of the crew. That way if Lebron does leave, I can tell my kids some day that I got to watch the most interesting season of basketball in the history of the league. Enjoy the game, I know I will.
And hey, if he does leave in June, so what... the world cup will be starting.... ole!
Truth be told, the sports landscape in Cleveland has rarely ever been in the type of situation it is now. The Cleveland Browns hired a coach who the fans already hate. The quarterback everyone wants to start is on the bench and receives his mandatory once a quarter face time on TV while holding a clipboard. We traded away a chance at drafting a franchise player and also recently gave away our best receiver (however, that move was cheered by most brownie fans).
The Indians have recently finished up yet another disappointing season, finishing well below .500 and were out of the playoff race about 9 minutes into the season. We have now hired a new manager whose prior job was running the Washing Nationals, one of the few teams worse off then the Indians. To top all of that off we have traded away 3 all-stars in the past 18 months and now get to watch our two former Cy Young winners face off in the world series. (my heart silently weeps)
These two teams have consistently crushed the spirits of fans and yet we follow them because if nothing else we are loyal. For 2 out of the 3 big sport seasons every year we suffer, but then the end of October rolls around...
This basketball season offers a variety of elements that we simply aren't used to seeing in Northeastern Ohio. We have arguably the greatest player on the planet, the two biggest personalities in the league, an owner who openly says money is no object and backs it up, and a truly talented group of players surrounding Lebron. With this format it would seem that the Cavs are ready to compete for a decade at least. But if you follow the NBA at all you know the gigantic monkey wrench that can be thrown into this plan. Lebron is a free agent after this year and no one on Earth, himself included, knows where he'll be playing basketball next year.
If Lebron decides to leave his home state for the bright lights of bigger city the results could be literally the end of a city. Cleveland lives and breathes LBJ and without him I don't believe Cleveland will make it. That is how polarizing of a figure Bron Bron is. He has the ability to effect an entire city... just ask Braylon.
No one knows what the future will hold and throughout the year we will be pestered with the constant, "Where will he go?" questions. I don't know the answer, and I don't care. I'm going to take these next 7-8 months for what they are, a unique situation which we may never come across ever again. It may be cheesy but this year, I am a witness. He very well may end up staying in Cleveland. We could win the championship in June and Lebron could sign right then and there, giving C-town a reason to stick it to the rest of the country for once. But it doesn't matter because win or lose I'm going to enjoy every moment of every game with Lebron and Shaq and the rest of the crew. That way if Lebron does leave, I can tell my kids some day that I got to watch the most interesting season of basketball in the history of the league. Enjoy the game, I know I will.
And hey, if he does leave in June, so what... the world cup will be starting.... ole!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
a moment of perfection
it's been forever since i wrote something... so here ya go. Not really a blog per say, more of a short story I wrote a while back. I made a few changes. here ya go
September sucks. It’s the end of summer. The nights are starting to get chilly. The country is getting ready to pack it in for the winter and there aren’t any enjoyable holidays in sight. Some might even say it’s the shittiest month of the year. However, just the opposite is true for aspiring, minor league baseball players and that’s exactly what Hobbs Carpenter was. Named for baseball’s “Natural” Hobbs was quite the opposite. He had spent nearly every moment for the past twenty-two years living, breathing, and dreaming baseball. However, unlike his movie counterpart, Hobbs’s success had not come easy. He had to work twice as hard as everyone else, was smaller than most, and had to walk on to his college team at little known Greensboro College.
No one ever gave him much of a chance and yet here he was, sitting in front of a locker in Yankee Stadium. As Hobbs was lacing up his shoes he couldn’t help but think about all the past situations that lead to this very moment; Becoming a division III All-American his senior year, consequently being drafted in the 21st round by the Kansas City Royals who were looking for a young, dependable centerfielder, and especially making it all the way through their minor league system in just two years.
It was still hard for Hobbs to believe how he’d gone from a no name, late round draft pick to one of the top prospects in the minor leagues. He had played all over the country for the Royals Affiliates in Arizona, Idaho, North Carolina, Delaware, Iowa, Nebraska, and finally Kansas. Who could have imagined that a kid born without any special athletic abilities could ever make it to the major leagues? Every once in a while a player will come along who, for all his life, makes this game look easy. These guys can run like run like Mays, track a ball down like Mantel, hit like Teddy ball game, and throw like Clemente all the while making it look effortless. Hobbs was not that guy. Every swing he took looked painful, every step, heavy. While some prospects swings brought to mind thoughts of Griffey, Edmonds, or A-rod Hobbs’s looked more like David Eckstein. While these setbacks may have frustrated other, weaker willed, athletes, it only motivated Hobbs to work harder.
So here sat Hobbs Carpenter, the pride of Knightdale, about to start his first major league game in centerfield, and in Yankee Stadium no less. The patch of grass that had created the legendary names of Mantle, DiMaggio, and Williams now had a new face patrolling; a new kid to help enshrine. He had ripped to ball to all fields during batting practice and was picking up the ball extraordinarily well of the bat in the outfield. He knew that this was going to be a good night, even allowing himself a moment of overconfidence when thinking, “These guys are about to meet a star.” This certainly was his first of many proud moments to come and no one could take it from him.
While most rookies who have recently been brought up tend to sit around and enjoy the amenities that a major league locker room can provide, Hobbs choose to get out to the field as quickly as he could. He wanted to take in every moment of that first evening under the lights; the crowd pouring in, the field preparations, the national anthem and the first pitch. After all the pregame niceties had been put in the books it was finally time for the action to begin.
Hobbs would be batting seventh and so it was pretty clear to him that he wouldn’t be making it up in the first inning. He spent those first few batters trying to find out if the pitcher was tipping his pitches or if he was struggling to throw certain pitches for strikes. As expected the Yankees set down the first three in order and so it was time to make that first jog to the field. As he took that first step out of the dugout he couldn’t help but remember what his father had told him the night before.
“Hobbs,” he said over the phone, trying to mask the pride he was feeling, “you’ve worked all your life for tomorrow night. You’ve spent countless hours honing your game for this one moment. You’ve sacrificed spring breaks, summer nights with friends, and after school events just to get those extra swings in the cage. You’ve earned every accolade that has ever been given to you but just remember that this truly is a dream come true. Every day you’ve told me about how you always wanted to run out onto a professional baseball field and play the game you love in front of thousands of screaming people. Now that time is at hand. So when you jog out to that historical piece of grass in centerfield…don’t forget to get chills. You’ve earned em.”
His dad knew what he was talking about. As he jogged out to center his entire body was covered with goose bumps. When he reached his spot and started to warm up with the left fielder he was greeted by a chorus of boos and mocking jeers from the New York faithful. He couldn’t help but smile and laugh. It’s customary that visiting players try to ignore the home fans because it will only throw gas on their fire knowing that the player is paying attention to them. Hobbs could care less though, it was his first professional evening and he let them have their fun.
When the pitcher had taken his final warm ups and the ump gave him the go ahead it was time. Hobbs bent over slightly at the waste, hands resting softly on his knees just as they had done thousands of times before. He was relaxed but ready to pounce at a moments notice. The first two batters hit soft ground balls to the shortstop, who made the plays with routine ease. The third batter however made solid contact on an awful change up, sending it screaming past the left fielder and short hopping the fence. He ended up with a two out double leaving a man on second for the clean hitter.
The first two pitches of the at bat were balls on the outside of the plate putting the clean up man in a great hitting count. Hobbs knew this guy was a gap to gap hitter and prepared himself to be on the run. As the pitch was delivered he tensed up ever so slightly as the heckling continued. Sure enough the batter drilled a line drive towards the left center gap. Hobbs got a great read on the ball, as he usually did, which enabled him to have a chance at making the catch. As the ball appeared to be going over his shoulder he leapt towards the outfield wall and onto the warning track. Just as the ball was about to hit the ground he closed his glove and corralled it at the last moment.
Hobbs got up quickly and winked at the bleacher bums as he tossed the ball to a fan in the first row. Even the home fans gave him a few subtle cheers, showing appreciation for the web gem he had just produced. Hobbs at saved a run for his team and made an outstanding play on his first major league attempt. He could imagine the commentators on the radio, “What a catch by the rookie! This kid is as hard nosed as them come!”
He got back in to the dugout and the pitcher slapped him on the back as he said, “thata boy rook. Keep doing that shit and you’ll be here to stay.” Hobbs was due up fourth that inning and so his focus really began to set in. The first hitter ripped a double down the right field line on the first pitch and the second quickly grounded out to the third baseman. Hobbs was on deck with one out and a man on second. His first official at bat was quickly approaching. He rubbed pine tar up and down the handle of his bat. He needed it for the grip because he didn’t use batting gloves or any wrap on his bat. “If tar was good enough for Ted Williams, it’s good enough for me,” he’d always tell anyone who questioned him about his curious preparation rituals. He took a few swings with the donut on the bat and then patiently waited as the batter in front of him struck out on three straight fastballs.
As he was walking towards the plate the fallen hitter before him told him to watch for the high heat. He nodded and walked slowly towards the batters box. Just before he stepped in he heard something he’d been waiting for his entire life. The famed Yankees PA announcer Bob Sheppard, “The Voice of God”, saying his name. “Now batting, numba 12, rookie centafielder, Hobbs Carpenta.”
Talk about a rush. Hobbs froze in place, stunned at how amazing that sounded. In fact he stood with one foot out of the box for so longer that ump finally asked him, “You ever gonna step in here kid or are you just gonna stand there with that shit eating grin on your face all night?”
Hobbs laughed and stepped in. The pitcher spit his chaw out and came set with the first pitch. He threw a ball just below Hobbs’s hands that nearly hit him. He looked at the pitcher who tipped his cap and spit once again. Hobbs smiled. This was a rite of passage. A pitcher’s way of saying he respects the young kid but this is his plate and don’t forget that.
The pitcher came set again and delivered a loopy curveball towards the outside corner. But Hobbs had seen Field of Dreams far too many times to fall for this trick. He sat back, waited for the pitch to get to the back of his stance and sent a rocket towards the right fielder. He was on a dead sprint from the moment he left the box. Gone were the heavy steps of the kid who was a bit slower than the rest. He ran with grace and determination as he rounded first base. Without a moments hesitation he headed towards second base. As the throw came in Hobbs dove head first towards the base and reached the base just as the ball hit the glove.
But something didn’t feel right.
As Hobbs dove towards the base the shortstop tried to block the low throw and unintentionally drove his knee down onto Hobbs shoulder. Hobbs couldn’t feel a thing but he could tell something was definitely wrong. He was unable to move his throwing arm. The trainer came rushing out and told him to lie still. Hobbs tried to tell him he was just fine but the look on the doctor’s face told him otherwise. It was at this moment that Hobbs lost it. He knew he’d never play baseball again. Not at the professional level, not at any level. He had torn his rotator cuff in two completely and severely dislocated his shoulder and elbow. No amount of hard work could bring him back from this devastating injury.
The stadium was dead silent as they helped him off the field. The fans wanted to clap as is customary when it is revealed that a player is all right after an injury but this was different. There was something in the air that let everyone know that this would be star was not going to be ok. The pin drop quiet was almost like a solemn moment of silence for a career that would never be.
As quickly Hobbs Carpenter’s dream was being realized it had shattered just as quickly. All those hours of blood, sweat, and tears meant nothing anymore. No amount of time could bring him back from this. His career was over. From that day on Hobbs refused to watch baseball, talk baseball, or even coach. As he grew older people asked him why he had strayed from the game that had brought him so much joy throughout his. His response was always that he didn’t feel qualified to teach a game that he could no longer play. He kept his pain buried deep inside his heart until one day his father finally asked him, “Hobbs, I know how baldy you’ve been hurt by this sport but I honestly think that coaching others might ease the sting that we all know you’re feeling. Why not give it a shot?”
Hobbs’s response was justifiable. “Pops”, he said, “to be that close, to work that hard for so long and to have it all taken away from me; I know it’s selfish but I just can’t share my knowledge after that. For one, to know that I was so close to making it would just make me push my players far too hard and drive them away from the game. Not to mention the fact that I just don’t think I have it in me to look at this game in a positive light any more. How could I teach kids to love something that is going to be taken away from them eventually? Players spend all their time working on this game and then one day it’s just over. Be it because of age, declining abilities, or injury soon enough everyone has to hang up the cleats. I know life’s not fair and that this is just another explanation of that but I just simply can’t imagine putting anyone else through the pain that I felt. I’m sorry but I just couldn’t do it.”
And for Hobbs Carpenter that was that. He never spoke about his one day of glory and pride. His children never knew that their daddy was a Major League Baseball player, if only for a day. He didn’t push them away from the sport, but he didn’t force it upon them either. For the most part his life was a happy one but, despite the fact that he tried hard, for the rest of his life but he never could forget his official MLB stats: 1 for 1 with a double, an rbi, one great catch, and a lifetime of what ifs.
September sucks. It’s the end of summer. The nights are starting to get chilly. The country is getting ready to pack it in for the winter and there aren’t any enjoyable holidays in sight. Some might even say it’s the shittiest month of the year. However, just the opposite is true for aspiring, minor league baseball players and that’s exactly what Hobbs Carpenter was. Named for baseball’s “Natural” Hobbs was quite the opposite. He had spent nearly every moment for the past twenty-two years living, breathing, and dreaming baseball. However, unlike his movie counterpart, Hobbs’s success had not come easy. He had to work twice as hard as everyone else, was smaller than most, and had to walk on to his college team at little known Greensboro College.
No one ever gave him much of a chance and yet here he was, sitting in front of a locker in Yankee Stadium. As Hobbs was lacing up his shoes he couldn’t help but think about all the past situations that lead to this very moment; Becoming a division III All-American his senior year, consequently being drafted in the 21st round by the Kansas City Royals who were looking for a young, dependable centerfielder, and especially making it all the way through their minor league system in just two years.
It was still hard for Hobbs to believe how he’d gone from a no name, late round draft pick to one of the top prospects in the minor leagues. He had played all over the country for the Royals Affiliates in Arizona, Idaho, North Carolina, Delaware, Iowa, Nebraska, and finally Kansas. Who could have imagined that a kid born without any special athletic abilities could ever make it to the major leagues? Every once in a while a player will come along who, for all his life, makes this game look easy. These guys can run like run like Mays, track a ball down like Mantel, hit like Teddy ball game, and throw like Clemente all the while making it look effortless. Hobbs was not that guy. Every swing he took looked painful, every step, heavy. While some prospects swings brought to mind thoughts of Griffey, Edmonds, or A-rod Hobbs’s looked more like David Eckstein. While these setbacks may have frustrated other, weaker willed, athletes, it only motivated Hobbs to work harder.
So here sat Hobbs Carpenter, the pride of Knightdale, about to start his first major league game in centerfield, and in Yankee Stadium no less. The patch of grass that had created the legendary names of Mantle, DiMaggio, and Williams now had a new face patrolling; a new kid to help enshrine. He had ripped to ball to all fields during batting practice and was picking up the ball extraordinarily well of the bat in the outfield. He knew that this was going to be a good night, even allowing himself a moment of overconfidence when thinking, “These guys are about to meet a star.” This certainly was his first of many proud moments to come and no one could take it from him.
While most rookies who have recently been brought up tend to sit around and enjoy the amenities that a major league locker room can provide, Hobbs choose to get out to the field as quickly as he could. He wanted to take in every moment of that first evening under the lights; the crowd pouring in, the field preparations, the national anthem and the first pitch. After all the pregame niceties had been put in the books it was finally time for the action to begin.
Hobbs would be batting seventh and so it was pretty clear to him that he wouldn’t be making it up in the first inning. He spent those first few batters trying to find out if the pitcher was tipping his pitches or if he was struggling to throw certain pitches for strikes. As expected the Yankees set down the first three in order and so it was time to make that first jog to the field. As he took that first step out of the dugout he couldn’t help but remember what his father had told him the night before.
“Hobbs,” he said over the phone, trying to mask the pride he was feeling, “you’ve worked all your life for tomorrow night. You’ve spent countless hours honing your game for this one moment. You’ve sacrificed spring breaks, summer nights with friends, and after school events just to get those extra swings in the cage. You’ve earned every accolade that has ever been given to you but just remember that this truly is a dream come true. Every day you’ve told me about how you always wanted to run out onto a professional baseball field and play the game you love in front of thousands of screaming people. Now that time is at hand. So when you jog out to that historical piece of grass in centerfield…don’t forget to get chills. You’ve earned em.”
His dad knew what he was talking about. As he jogged out to center his entire body was covered with goose bumps. When he reached his spot and started to warm up with the left fielder he was greeted by a chorus of boos and mocking jeers from the New York faithful. He couldn’t help but smile and laugh. It’s customary that visiting players try to ignore the home fans because it will only throw gas on their fire knowing that the player is paying attention to them. Hobbs could care less though, it was his first professional evening and he let them have their fun.
When the pitcher had taken his final warm ups and the ump gave him the go ahead it was time. Hobbs bent over slightly at the waste, hands resting softly on his knees just as they had done thousands of times before. He was relaxed but ready to pounce at a moments notice. The first two batters hit soft ground balls to the shortstop, who made the plays with routine ease. The third batter however made solid contact on an awful change up, sending it screaming past the left fielder and short hopping the fence. He ended up with a two out double leaving a man on second for the clean hitter.
The first two pitches of the at bat were balls on the outside of the plate putting the clean up man in a great hitting count. Hobbs knew this guy was a gap to gap hitter and prepared himself to be on the run. As the pitch was delivered he tensed up ever so slightly as the heckling continued. Sure enough the batter drilled a line drive towards the left center gap. Hobbs got a great read on the ball, as he usually did, which enabled him to have a chance at making the catch. As the ball appeared to be going over his shoulder he leapt towards the outfield wall and onto the warning track. Just as the ball was about to hit the ground he closed his glove and corralled it at the last moment.
Hobbs got up quickly and winked at the bleacher bums as he tossed the ball to a fan in the first row. Even the home fans gave him a few subtle cheers, showing appreciation for the web gem he had just produced. Hobbs at saved a run for his team and made an outstanding play on his first major league attempt. He could imagine the commentators on the radio, “What a catch by the rookie! This kid is as hard nosed as them come!”
He got back in to the dugout and the pitcher slapped him on the back as he said, “thata boy rook. Keep doing that shit and you’ll be here to stay.” Hobbs was due up fourth that inning and so his focus really began to set in. The first hitter ripped a double down the right field line on the first pitch and the second quickly grounded out to the third baseman. Hobbs was on deck with one out and a man on second. His first official at bat was quickly approaching. He rubbed pine tar up and down the handle of his bat. He needed it for the grip because he didn’t use batting gloves or any wrap on his bat. “If tar was good enough for Ted Williams, it’s good enough for me,” he’d always tell anyone who questioned him about his curious preparation rituals. He took a few swings with the donut on the bat and then patiently waited as the batter in front of him struck out on three straight fastballs.
As he was walking towards the plate the fallen hitter before him told him to watch for the high heat. He nodded and walked slowly towards the batters box. Just before he stepped in he heard something he’d been waiting for his entire life. The famed Yankees PA announcer Bob Sheppard, “The Voice of God”, saying his name. “Now batting, numba 12, rookie centafielder, Hobbs Carpenta.”
Talk about a rush. Hobbs froze in place, stunned at how amazing that sounded. In fact he stood with one foot out of the box for so longer that ump finally asked him, “You ever gonna step in here kid or are you just gonna stand there with that shit eating grin on your face all night?”
Hobbs laughed and stepped in. The pitcher spit his chaw out and came set with the first pitch. He threw a ball just below Hobbs’s hands that nearly hit him. He looked at the pitcher who tipped his cap and spit once again. Hobbs smiled. This was a rite of passage. A pitcher’s way of saying he respects the young kid but this is his plate and don’t forget that.
The pitcher came set again and delivered a loopy curveball towards the outside corner. But Hobbs had seen Field of Dreams far too many times to fall for this trick. He sat back, waited for the pitch to get to the back of his stance and sent a rocket towards the right fielder. He was on a dead sprint from the moment he left the box. Gone were the heavy steps of the kid who was a bit slower than the rest. He ran with grace and determination as he rounded first base. Without a moments hesitation he headed towards second base. As the throw came in Hobbs dove head first towards the base and reached the base just as the ball hit the glove.
But something didn’t feel right.
As Hobbs dove towards the base the shortstop tried to block the low throw and unintentionally drove his knee down onto Hobbs shoulder. Hobbs couldn’t feel a thing but he could tell something was definitely wrong. He was unable to move his throwing arm. The trainer came rushing out and told him to lie still. Hobbs tried to tell him he was just fine but the look on the doctor’s face told him otherwise. It was at this moment that Hobbs lost it. He knew he’d never play baseball again. Not at the professional level, not at any level. He had torn his rotator cuff in two completely and severely dislocated his shoulder and elbow. No amount of hard work could bring him back from this devastating injury.
The stadium was dead silent as they helped him off the field. The fans wanted to clap as is customary when it is revealed that a player is all right after an injury but this was different. There was something in the air that let everyone know that this would be star was not going to be ok. The pin drop quiet was almost like a solemn moment of silence for a career that would never be.
As quickly Hobbs Carpenter’s dream was being realized it had shattered just as quickly. All those hours of blood, sweat, and tears meant nothing anymore. No amount of time could bring him back from this. His career was over. From that day on Hobbs refused to watch baseball, talk baseball, or even coach. As he grew older people asked him why he had strayed from the game that had brought him so much joy throughout his. His response was always that he didn’t feel qualified to teach a game that he could no longer play. He kept his pain buried deep inside his heart until one day his father finally asked him, “Hobbs, I know how baldy you’ve been hurt by this sport but I honestly think that coaching others might ease the sting that we all know you’re feeling. Why not give it a shot?”
Hobbs’s response was justifiable. “Pops”, he said, “to be that close, to work that hard for so long and to have it all taken away from me; I know it’s selfish but I just can’t share my knowledge after that. For one, to know that I was so close to making it would just make me push my players far too hard and drive them away from the game. Not to mention the fact that I just don’t think I have it in me to look at this game in a positive light any more. How could I teach kids to love something that is going to be taken away from them eventually? Players spend all their time working on this game and then one day it’s just over. Be it because of age, declining abilities, or injury soon enough everyone has to hang up the cleats. I know life’s not fair and that this is just another explanation of that but I just simply can’t imagine putting anyone else through the pain that I felt. I’m sorry but I just couldn’t do it.”
And for Hobbs Carpenter that was that. He never spoke about his one day of glory and pride. His children never knew that their daddy was a Major League Baseball player, if only for a day. He didn’t push them away from the sport, but he didn’t force it upon them either. For the most part his life was a happy one but, despite the fact that he tried hard, for the rest of his life but he never could forget his official MLB stats: 1 for 1 with a double, an rbi, one great catch, and a lifetime of what ifs.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
a year in the life
I wrote this a while ago but I liked it and figured most of you haven't read it so it was worth putting up here. New post coming very soon.
I recently reread an old Rick Reilly article where he discusses what would be his perfect sports year. This inspired me to think about what I would do if I only had one year left to live and money was no longer an object. After thinking about it for a while (roughly 5 minutes) I came up with the 12 things that I would love to do if given the opportunity:
1.)I would purchase DAWGPOUND tickets for a Browns-Steelers game right next to BigDawg just so I could throw beer on Hines Ward. If anyone deserves it, he does.
2.) I would go to Boston and get courtside tickets at the Garden to a Cavs-Celtics game just so I could talk trash to Kevin Garnett.
3.) I would fly down to Charlotte, go to a Bobcats game and find Michael Jordan. I’d only have one question for him before the security guards got to me, “Why did you have to hit “The Shot”?.
4.) I would fly across the pond and attend a West Ham-Milwall match just so I could sing “Forever Blowing Bubbles” with the biggest hooligans on the planet.
5.) I’d go very early to a Cleveland Indians game and while they were taking batting practice I’d find Travis Hafner, hand him a copy of “The Science of Hitting” and then tell him to get confident again.
6.) I’d arrange for my dad to have a high stakes black jack table all to himself so he never had to worry about the people around him playing the wrong way, messing up the shoot, and still managing to win.
7.) I’d make sure my brother got to meet Mark Price. I’d also take him and my father to see a UCLA basketball game so they could both shake John Wooden’s hand. I’d also make sure Bill Walton was never allowed to say, “throw it down big fella” again.
8.)I’d find a way for my mom to give Charlie Nagy a hug.
9.)I’d take batting practice at Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, and Old Yankee Stadium with Vlad, Griffey, and ManRam. I’d ask Vlad to swing out of his shoes one more time, watch The pretty swing in baseball history as Griffey wore his hat backwards, and see how many balls Manny could make leave the stadium.
10.) I’d go the Army/Navy game and thank everyone around me for keeping this country safe.
11.) I’d sit on my couch for 4 days straight just to watch every single basketball game in the 1st two rounds of March Madness so I didn’t miss a minute of the upsets, big shots, and Cinderella stories.
12.) And lastly, I’d hire the crew from True Hollywood Stories to make a documentary about our Turkey Bowl. It’d be titled “The Funniest Game Ever Played” and it’d be the #1 movie in America.
Now THAT is a year worth living
I recently reread an old Rick Reilly article where he discusses what would be his perfect sports year. This inspired me to think about what I would do if I only had one year left to live and money was no longer an object. After thinking about it for a while (roughly 5 minutes) I came up with the 12 things that I would love to do if given the opportunity:
1.)I would purchase DAWGPOUND tickets for a Browns-Steelers game right next to BigDawg just so I could throw beer on Hines Ward. If anyone deserves it, he does.
2.) I would go to Boston and get courtside tickets at the Garden to a Cavs-Celtics game just so I could talk trash to Kevin Garnett.
3.) I would fly down to Charlotte, go to a Bobcats game and find Michael Jordan. I’d only have one question for him before the security guards got to me, “Why did you have to hit “The Shot”?.
4.) I would fly across the pond and attend a West Ham-Milwall match just so I could sing “Forever Blowing Bubbles” with the biggest hooligans on the planet.
5.) I’d go very early to a Cleveland Indians game and while they were taking batting practice I’d find Travis Hafner, hand him a copy of “The Science of Hitting” and then tell him to get confident again.
6.) I’d arrange for my dad to have a high stakes black jack table all to himself so he never had to worry about the people around him playing the wrong way, messing up the shoot, and still managing to win.
7.) I’d make sure my brother got to meet Mark Price. I’d also take him and my father to see a UCLA basketball game so they could both shake John Wooden’s hand. I’d also make sure Bill Walton was never allowed to say, “throw it down big fella” again.
8.)I’d find a way for my mom to give Charlie Nagy a hug.
9.)I’d take batting practice at Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, and Old Yankee Stadium with Vlad, Griffey, and ManRam. I’d ask Vlad to swing out of his shoes one more time, watch The pretty swing in baseball history as Griffey wore his hat backwards, and see how many balls Manny could make leave the stadium.
10.) I’d go the Army/Navy game and thank everyone around me for keeping this country safe.
11.) I’d sit on my couch for 4 days straight just to watch every single basketball game in the 1st two rounds of March Madness so I didn’t miss a minute of the upsets, big shots, and Cinderella stories.
12.) And lastly, I’d hire the crew from True Hollywood Stories to make a documentary about our Turkey Bowl. It’d be titled “The Funniest Game Ever Played” and it’d be the #1 movie in America.
Now THAT is a year worth living
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Still all over the place
So I was going to write a blog discussing the Cleveland Browns and how it's a little too early to give up on Mangini and Quinn like everyone on ESPN seems to want to, do but I can't do that because my brother beat me to the punch and did it better then I could've so that's out for this one. After you read this if you haven't read his article already click here and do so. Also, be sure to click "liked it" at the bottom. People helping people. Alright on to some things that irked me this week, and others that excite me.
sorry Alex...this is bound to happen a lot this weekend.
First up, Lane Kiffin. Where to begin with this unbelievable ass. When he first got to Tennessee he told the media that he was excited about all of the traditions that the program brings, one of them being singing Rocky Top all night long after they beat Florida. Well that would happen in Tennessee if you beat the Gators, but this years game was in the swamp... off to a bad start. Also celebrations come after wins, not loses so now you're two in the hole. Then he watches Florida roll through a couple of cupcakes while losing at home to UCLA and probably thought to himself, "oh crap that's right we haven't mattered since Peyton left and they're way better then us." He proceeded to spend the week before the game telling the media how Florida has the greatest college quarterback of all time, a team full of NFL players, and the best defense of all time. I hope you washed your asses boys, it's about to be kissed by a douche bag. The odds makers apparently listened to Lane and made Florida a 30 point favorite. The best part about that is EVERYONE was happy to give those points. No questions asked, this game was going to be a blow out.
Then something strange happened. The game was played and it was a hard fought battle (ish) with Florida winning by 10 points. A day later Urban Meyer said that his team was riddled with the flu and they felt no need to push the issue, instead being content with a solid victory over coach pompous ass and his Volunteers (I added that last part). Lane hears this and says (actual quote here) "I guess we'll wait and after we're not excited about a performance, we'll tell you everybody was sick." Really Lane? You're going to trash talk about ONLY losing by ten? Unbelievable. This man should not be allowed to hold another press conference until he's announcing his resignation as head coach of Tennessee and that he'll be joining Tucker Carlson in Fox's new reality show "Race to Become the World's Bigges
t Douche".
t Douche".Oh and to top it all off he permanently has the "someone farted in the car face."
This last weekend I was lucky to have visitors down here in the natty. Alex, my sister Heather and Brother-in-law Matt came down to hang out. We had a lot of fun and a packed weekend but the thing that stood out most to me was the couple hours spent at Cincinnati's Oktoberfest. Apparently it's the biggest one outside of Germany. German food, music, beer and drunk people? We're there! After a crammed cab ride with the world's scariest cabbie we get out and proceed to one of the many beer lines. We chose the wrong one. After 20 minutes of waiting we emerge with our 11 dollar beers. Yes, you read that right. 11 dollars for a plastic mug of Oktoberfest b
eer. Why so expensive? Glad you asked. The reason it was the same price as a CASE of Natty Light is because it comes in a "collector's cup" with a special edition coozy. It makes me irate that festivals can charge so much money for beer just because it happens once a year and they stuff people in like sardines. I understand that as long as people continue to pay it's going to stay the same, just like at professional sporting events and concerts. At least at those places, though, they basically say, "Yes, it's expensive, deal with it." Not here. It's because of the collector's cup. WHO IS COLLECTING THESE THINGS!?!? Are there really people out there that go around collecting plastic festival mugs? Is the set complete when you have one from each season? Are there collectors somewhere willing to pay top dollar for rare festivals? Do these people proudly display their cups like some white trash art museum? "See that one there? Took me 6 years to find. Avon Duct Tape Festival. It's my Mona Lisa." This is ridiculous. At least I got to drink out of my one of a kind engraved glass boot. Good looking out myrch.
eer. Why so expensive? Glad you asked. The reason it was the same price as a CASE of Natty Light is because it comes in a "collector's cup" with a special edition coozy. It makes me irate that festivals can charge so much money for beer just because it happens once a year and they stuff people in like sardines. I understand that as long as people continue to pay it's going to stay the same, just like at professional sporting events and concerts. At least at those places, though, they basically say, "Yes, it's expensive, deal with it." Not here. It's because of the collector's cup. WHO IS COLLECTING THESE THINGS!?!? Are there really people out there that go around collecting plastic festival mugs? Is the set complete when you have one from each season? Are there collectors somewhere willing to pay top dollar for rare festivals? Do these people proudly display their cups like some white trash art museum? "See that one there? Took me 6 years to find. Avon Duct Tape Festival. It's my Mona Lisa." This is ridiculous. At least I got to drink out of my one of a kind engraved glass boot. Good looking out myrch.On a lighter note, last night I was flipping through channels after watching Pierre Garcon (pride of Mount Union) break Dolphin's fans hearts and I came across Smokin Aces on USA. Despite the fact that I own the movie and have seen it probably ten times I still watched almost the entire thing. During commercials I flipped to On the Waterfront on TMC and then something about the Bible on the History Channel. This got me thinking about how there are some movies that even though you've seen them dozens of times you'll still stop on them any time you're channel surfing. Bill Simmons talks about this often and always uses Shawshank as his example. The difference here is that Shawshank is a great movie. As is On the Waterfront. Smokin Aces, not so much. Yet I watched nearly all of it. My next blog I'm going to compile a list of things that you'll always stop and watch at least part of while flipping through. The list will undoubtedly include Planet Earth and anything on The History Channel. If there's anything you can't help but watching let me know, I'm very interested in this.
Jeff Hoover (see prior blog) is coming down this weekend. Friday is Arthur Guinness Day. I call this the perfect storm. Car bombs a plenty, and no chance he makes his 8 am flight on Sunday morning. I'll re-cap next week. God speed to anyone who happens to be out this weekend and in his path.
sorry Alex...this is bound to happen a lot this weekend.
That's all for now... To Arthur!!!!!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
little bit of this...
and some of that. I don't really have one specific topic to talk about for a while so I'm going the hodge podge route today. I apolgize in advance.
-I saw two older women at the gym the other day riding the excersize bike. Good for them. The part I couldn't figure out is they were watching a video of other people riding bikes. It's possible that it was a video spin class and if so I'm confused. I understand having an aerobics trainer in front of a class giving instruction b/c the moves change and the excersizes vary so having someone keep you on track is a good thing. Why do you need someone yelling at you while riding a bike? Want to work a little harder for the next minute? Pedal faster. Problem solved. Most excersize bikes even have different programs which make you go harder at certain points thus rendering the on bike instructor obsolete and yet people still pay for spin classes. I don't get how someone can possibly deserve a pay check for riding a bike with a head set on yelling UP!!!! every thirty seconds.
- A quick thought for Coach Mangini: It doesn't matter how long you keep your quarterback a secret if your defense can't stop Adrian Peterson from punching holes into your defensive back's chests. Maybe instead of teaching all the players how to dodge media questions you could work on some tackling drills. All Day is an absolute freak. Compare his numbers to Jim Brown's... It's scary close. My brother made a good point about Brady as well... I thought he played decently and didn't really make any dumb mistakes but if our defense is going to allow running back's to run further then Steve Prefontaine then I don't like our chances. That being said, It's A.P. so they get a week pass. We'll address this again soon.
Lord of the Mustache! --->
Sticking with football... I was in Columbus last weekend for the heartbreak at the shoe and I've got some thoughts on the game. First off, prior to kick off (no pun intended) the mood around was somber at best. Everyone just hoping for a close game, but expecting a blow out. What we got was a well fought, defensive struggle and an OSU lead late in the game. That being said, when USC got their first of many first downs on their game winning drive it was a feeling that I've never had before. DESPITE USC being still 75 yards away from the winning touchdown, an entire city's proverbial wind went out of the sails. DESPITE it being an 18 year old true freshman leading the drive, every member of buckeye nation knew what was coming. It was inevitable, and yet unstoppable. Like watching the Lion King and hoping Mufasa is going to avoid the stampede, but we all know better. Within minutes the Bucks had failed to tackle Joe McKnight numerous times and the Trojans had officially torn out our hearts, again. The strangest part of the entire situation, though, was that not only did everyone see it coming, but we expected it. Something needs to change in C-bus because Tressel is sitting on a fence right now. Either the Bucks start winning a big game or two and remain important on the national scene, or we fall back into obscurity where fall is fun, but doesn't really matter and OSU becomes nothing more then what the Browns are... a reason to drink on the weekends.
(Heartbreaking, but expected)--->-I played sand volleyball yesterday with some new found friends of mine (insert "Adam has friends?" jokes here) and I am now officially impressed by the athletes who do this professionally. I always was aware that they were very talented and in amazing shape (see any one of them in bikini photos) but after playing for all of an hour I was completely dead. The amount of energy they must put forth every single day is absolutely mind blowing. I am now putting them up into the top athlete group comprised of swimmers, tennis players, and soccer players. The direct opposite of this being baseball players and NFL linemen. Don't believe me? Scroll down and look at the picture of Bob Wickman, a real life closer in the MLB once upon a time. Anyway, you may be thinking, "I play backyard volleyball all the time, it can't be that different." I thought that too. I was wrong. Give it a try. It's a great work out and a lot of fun. Attempting to get the sand off your body is a bit less enjoyable though. You've been warned.
Lastly, If I ever see this kid on the street, I'm turning and walking the other direction. His name is Bam Bam and he's 6 now I believe. Ridiculous.
That's all for now, I'll try to get something else up by the end of the week. Oh, and Fifa 10 demo comes out tomorrow. It's a big day. Also Arthur Guinness day is September 24th. Start preparing now!!!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Bill Simmons writes the most entertaining articles on the Internet. Let me start by saying that. For those of you who don’t know who he is Simmons writes on ESPN.com once or twice a week. He writes for a sports website and rarely talks about actual sports unless it’s the Red Sox or Celtics. He spends most of his time discussing fantasy sports, Shawshank and other movies, and responding to mailbag questions. He has developed a devout following and seemingly has about the best life ever. I am jealous… That being said I have a bone to pick with him the size of a femur. His most recent two-part article was about his latest 2 night Vegas trip (… I’m excited to read this!!!... ) to do a fantasy football draft. (oh…) That isn’t my issue though. The article was entertaining, and his group of guys does what they should do; Drink, gamble, and drink. My problem with him is the times they check out for the evenings. First night: 1 am. What!?!? Are you kidding me? During my brother’s bachelor party trip we started drinking at 3 pm EASTERN TIME and didn’t stop until 4:30 am VEGAS time. We were then on the golf course drinking by 9 am. A.M!! They didn’t even leave the room until 9:45… come on Bill. I don’ care if you are 40. My father has you by 20 years and hung with us every single night.
Their second night is a little better, 3:30 am… but still. You don’t lay the ground work for a great night only t
o check out before the sun comes up. That’s like watching Almost Famous and turning it off BEFORE they sing Tiny Dancer. Ok it’s not like that at all but you get the point. He calls his 2 night trip great because they won money on a slot machine and did a fantasy draft. Ours included: Being awake til the sun rose every night, a private ESPN zone room for the Cavs playoff run, meeting the Miss USA Contestants, having South Africans on the strip know who we were by our shirts, and me discovering that filthy martini’s + 10 shots of espresso= cocaine. 3 nights, probably 9 hours of sleep, 4 days of debauchery and pictures to prove it. I don’t care how often you’ve been there Bill… you don’t know how to party like us Sockel boys… now onto what I really want to discuss… Accents
o check out before the sun comes up. That’s like watching Almost Famous and turning it off BEFORE they sing Tiny Dancer. Ok it’s not like that at all but you get the point. He calls his 2 night trip great because they won money on a slot machine and did a fantasy draft. Ours included: Being awake til the sun rose every night, a private ESPN zone room for the Cavs playoff run, meeting the Miss USA Contestants, having South Africans on the strip know who we were by our shirts, and me discovering that filthy martini’s + 10 shots of espresso= cocaine. 3 nights, probably 9 hours of sleep, 4 days of debauchery and pictures to prove it. I don’t care how often you’ve been there Bill… you don’t know how to party like us Sockel boys… now onto what I really want to discuss… Accents Last week during one of my classes I had a girl introduce herself to me. Her name isn't important and I don't remember it anyway but I asked how her day was going and she said fine. Then she responded in kind, "and how y'all doin?". I turned around to see if other people were behind me. Nope. I look again... nothing. "Y'all?" I asked. "Who else are you talking to?" Her response? "No one else! Just y'all!". My head hurts. I asked her where she was from expecting to here Georgia, or Tennessee, or Alabama but her answer was Cincinnati, born and raised.
This had to be a mistake so I asked her where her family was from and where she acquired her accent. She told me everyone in her family is from Ohiah (Ohio in stupid accent talk) and I about lost my mind. She told me everyone talks like this in the south. THE SOUTH!?!? We are in OHIO. One state away from the CANADIAN BORDER! Someone wake me up from this nightmare.
I've been down here for almost a month now and honestly not much is different from around Cleveland. Temperate climate and big ass squirrels. Really the only noticeable difference is that 90% of the fast food restaurants are chili places, which creeps me out. Everything is pretty much identical except that these people seem to prefer to whistle Dixie.
Can you find Ohio? Good job! Now find the south. Two different places right? The people of Cincinnati don't seem to grasp this concept
I don't get it. I drove four hours south when I moved here and it's like a whole new culture disguising itself with a similar look to the rest of Ohio. To top it all off this same girl told me I had a funny accent! Are you kidding me? The Yanks won, the rebels lost. Stop trying to be like them.
I understand that the people of Pennsylvania will have a different way of speaking then Ohioans as well as actual southerners and Californians have different lexicons as well. It's like this all over the world but for a single cities worth of people from Ohio to speak like they grew up in the Dukes of Hazzard is ridiculous. All I know is if I ever start saying y'all someone smack me in the face...and if I ever start eating Skyline chili for that matter.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
an evening at the pub...part 2
Time for the stunning conclusion to the list of guys I'd most like to drink with. Again, the rules being they have to be well know, real people, and alive. Therefore while I would love to drink with Wooderson from Dazed and Confused, Matthew McConaughey is a d-bag, so he's out. alright here we go:
John Kruck PBR He formerly of the fantastic mullet. Every sport has that commentator/announcer that just seems like a very real person. What you see is what you get. No smoke and mirrors with them. (the exact opposite would be Joe Buck) The man knows baseball, he ate hot dogs during an award show AND was a lifetime .300 hitter. Speaking of the man in every sport I'd most like to drink with...
John Madden Really bad Whiskey He's annoying, dumbs down football so everyone understands it ("If he throws the ball, and the other one catches it in the end zone...boom that's gonna be a touchdown") but he was probably the best announcer in football. Also, every Thanksgiving he eats a Turducken. "Here's a guy when he puts his contacts in he can see better!" Keeping with sports here...
Bob Wickman Milwakee's best For those of you who don't know Wick he was the Indian's closer for a few years. He weighed probably 400 pounds and threw all of 82 miles an hour. Among our college friends an aura was created around him because he seemed to gain wait every game. The running joke was to figure out what he ate before every outing. Sort of like a Bill Brasky thing... "Wickman ate 3 chipotle burrito's and then blew another save" which progressed to "Wickman ate 9 human babies before giving up a bomb to Thome."
The Pope Really good red wine No alter boy jokes here. Honestly I've always wanted to meet the Pope and just talk to him for a while. The entire church believes he's infallible and I wonder if that gets to his head. I always picture him in a constant state of prayer wearing uber-expensive clothes and a funny hat. I just really would love to hear his thoughts on everything going on in the world. Plus I bet he knows some hilarious Jew jokes. On world figures...
Barack Obama Budweiser This isn't political or anything, the President just seems like a very down to Earth guy. I'd love to talk sports with him and ask what other world leaders are total dick heads. I can imagine him being like "Sarkozy is absolutely full of himself, and he never showers, which is weird. I really do hate France, but don't tell any one."
Lewis Black and Jon Stewart Tanqueray and tonic Jon Stewart is honestly the best newscaster in America, and he delivers the news on COMEDY CENTRAL. He gets the best guests, is actually well respected and doesn't take himself too seriously. Lewis Black became really well known for his Back in Black segment on The Daily Show. I figure best chance of drinking with them would be to get em together. I would love to here them yelling about the economy and how stupid Fox News is. Also I would be hoping for Black's creepy finger pointing thing. Lil Wayne Robitussin I kid, but his love for cough syrup is well documented. As strange as he is, it can't be denied that Lil Wayne is a fantastic artist. Also he has a blog on ESPN.com which is very cool. If you listen to him talk for 30 seconds you just want to hear him talk forever. (see Delonte West) He writes songs faster then you can learn the lyrics to them and he just seems like he'd be hilarious to talk to. I'd probably say this is the least likely of any on this list to happen though. One more athlete, sort of...
John Daily John Daily's (Arnold Palmer's plus Vodka) You can't have a drinking list without the greatest drinker alive being on it. He wears fantastic pants, gets arrested drunk outside of Hooter's restaurants and can drive a ball further then you can drive your car. I don't know how this night would start but I know how it would end. Me, passed out naked on the 7th hole of a public golf course.
Alan Rickman Dirty Martini's I don't have a real reason for this other than he's one of my favorite actors. He was amazing in Robin Hood, creepy in Sweeney Todd, and oddly fatherly in Perfume. Not to mention everyone on the planet knows him as Snape in Harry Potter. Every movie he does I love and he continues to be in projects that are sure to be unbelievably mind blowing (see Alice in Wonderland).
John Malkovich Russian Vodka For the same reason for Alan Rickman, I just love John Malkovich. His range of characters is unbelievable. The first day I ever saw him in a movie I watched Of Mice and Men and Rounders. I watched him play Lennie Small and Teddy KGB in the same day. I was sold from then on. He has even made a movie about being inside his own head! I mean come on! Vant a cookie?
Dave Attell Jagermeister If you've ever watched a Dave Attell special you'll know why he's on this list. Every story he tells involves being incredibly drunk. He even had a comedy central late night show completely centered around his drinking! I also happen to think that he's one of the most underrated comedians around. But hey... that's just my opinion. last but not least...
Jeff Hoover Case of Natty, 6 dollar bottle of champagne, Bottle of Jameson, a round of Irish Car Bombs, and a 200 dollar tab at the bar Ok, so he's not famous, and by all liver standards he should be dead by now but for those of you who don't know Jeff... you should. Tucker Max thinks he has questionable morals. Jeff was my roommate for 3 ish years in college and to put it simply, deserves a medal for his drinking ability. The man took a year off to do nothing but drink. He woke up naked on the couch covered in Cheese Its and his public inappropriateness is legendary. I'd tell you that I look forward to drinking with him for years to come but I've got to believe his liver only has a few good years left. rest assured, he'll continue to push it anyway. God bless you Jeff Hoover.
So there it is. My list. Sure I may have left someone out and if I did feel free to let me know. Hope you enjoyed it. Time for a drink. Nastrovia, Lakim, Slainte!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
an evening at the pub...part 1
It's been a week since I moved in to my new place and while my classes don't start until tomorrow I have been busy these past 8 days. Aside from learning that Hyde Park might just be the runners capital of the world, the fact that if you wear a pink shirt you will be silently judged, and you seem to need at least an Audi to deserve a parking spot in Hyde Park Square I recently started working my newest job: Tending bar. That's right. a couple nights out of the week when I'm not busy with Grad school I will be in charge of serving alcoholic beverages to other people, and getting paid to do so!
The interview was about as difficult to pass as the PFJ's: You're over 21 and you know alcohol right? "...yes?" Alright you're in. SUCCESS!
The bar is called Ryan's and it's in the student center at Xavier. While most schools are trying desperately to have a dry campus, Xavier is actually putting Irish pub's on theirs. I have chosen the right school.
Any hoo.. the first 2 days of work have been very slow b/c of the moving into college process for the student drinking body and so I've had a decent amount of free time. Seeing as how you can only wipe a bar in circular motions (wax on...) for so long I decided to come up with the top 25 (ish) guys I'd most like to have a drink with. When I first came up with the idea my brain went into over drive. I was thinking about characters and dead people and it got too crazy. So to keep the list as short as possible I decided to keep it to real people, who are currently living. I also tried to make it be people who we all have just about zero percent chance of ever drinking with. I took the liberty of putting down what I feel you'd be most likely to drink with these people. The list is in no particular order and, as always, up for debate. Shall we being...? First up, someone a lot of people now know thanks to The Hangover.
Zach Galifinaikas Killian's Irish Red Zach has recently gained much over due fame by playing a creepy pedophile but his best work to date is actually in the far less popular but equally funny Out Cold. He also has a hilarious comedy DVD titled Live at the Purple Onion in which he drinks what appears to be Killian's after Killian's while playing the classic piano, bashing the crowd, and playing his own fake twin brother. I'm also pretty sure his beard gives him special drinking powers.
Vinnie Jones: Carlsburg If you don't know who Vinnie Jones is throw in Snatch or Lock, Stock
and you'll discover that he is the ultimate English bad ass. Tall, lanky, can't way more than 150 pounds and terrifying. To learn why he's on the list watch Eurotrip to see him open two pints of beer at the same time. With his eye lids. My baby takes the morning train...
Glen Hansard: Guinness; Whiskey, Warm Glen, like Zach, is starting to become a little bit more well known but most people have no idea who he is. Glen is the Lead singer of the bands the Frames and the Swell Season but is perhaps most known for his part in Once and his ridiculous singer/songwriter talent. The best thing about him though is that he tells ridiculous (usually pointless) stories during live concerts in between songs with his insanely thick Irish accent. Also, as is expected from any good Irishman, his face is blanketed by a beautiful orange beard. Slante'!
Gerard Butler The Blood of a million Persians, actually Stoli, Straight You might be saying right now, "Really Adam.. That guy from the ugly truth?" Yes that guy. He's also the guy who has played the Phantom of the Opera and King Leonidas in the most bad ass movie since Pulp Fiction. This man went from being a lawyer, quitting because he drank too much, becoming an actor, staring as one of the most intense singing leads you can find, to having 18 pack abs to nailing Katherine Hiegl. Hey Russel Crowe...He's better than you.
Jeremy Piven: Scotch, Rocks How can Buddy Israel not make the list? Wait... that's not what he's known for? I kid. But in all reality, what other actor would any male want to be on the planet? I would go to a movie theatre to watch this man do drugs off a midget. Which i hear he's into. Hug it out bitch!
Jim Rome Bombay Sapphire, but only 2. "any more and you get sloppy" The king of smack. Romey himself. from 12-3 every day millions of listeners hear him make fun of everything sports related. He gets the best athletes to come on his show and for some reason has serious man crushes on the likes of Ryan Garko, Benny Fransisco and...
Delonte West Red MD 20/20 If the only knowledge you had of Delonte West was his basketball skill you'd say, "Yeah he's a decent guard, but I'd never want to hang out with him." But thanks to Rome is Burning, Youtube, and his ridiculous post game interviews we know that Delonte wants "That Hot Sauce in the bag", that if you ever hang out with him you "Better have my donuts" and that the man has face herpes. I know Jay hates his playing style and all but he's aces in my book. "How playa is that man?"
Andrew McMahon Rolling Rock This one is a little different b/c if you attended the Jack's Mannequin concert at John Carroll (I was unable to, but Vegas was a nice substitute) you may have gotten the chance to have drinks after the show with Andrew. He went out to bars after. Since I did not. He makes the list. As lead singer of the piano rock bands Something Corporate and Jack's Andrew not only fronts two amazing bands, but he is also a cancer survivor who really seems to appreciate life. That and before his cancer bout I'm pretty sure he drank a case of the Rocks during concerts.
Wayne Rooney Newcastle He's built like a football player, is faster then most sprinters, looks like his face melted and he'll chip you from 18 out. If any soccer player on the planet can be considered a bad ass it's this one. All that AND Joe Bott named his dog after him!
Christopher Walkin Anything the man wants, It's Christopher freaking Walkin The man's got a fever and we all know the prescription. He's weird, he's funny, and every single one of us thinks we can do a Walkin impression. You look at him wrong and he'll stab you in the face with a soldering iron. I would drink with this man just to hear him talk. Hopefully he'll have brought kittens!
That's all for part one, I hope you agree. Feel free to tell me who I missed
Part 2 will be soon to come. Until then... Nastrovia!
The interview was about as difficult to pass as the PFJ's: You're over 21 and you know alcohol right? "...yes?" Alright you're in. SUCCESS!
The bar is called Ryan's and it's in the student center at Xavier. While most schools are trying desperately to have a dry campus, Xavier is actually putting Irish pub's on theirs. I have chosen the right school.
Any hoo.. the first 2 days of work have been very slow b/c of the moving into college process for the student drinking body and so I've had a decent amount of free time. Seeing as how you can only wipe a bar in circular motions (wax on...) for so long I decided to come up with the top 25 (ish) guys I'd most like to have a drink with. When I first came up with the idea my brain went into over drive. I was thinking about characters and dead people and it got too crazy. So to keep the list as short as possible I decided to keep it to real people, who are currently living. I also tried to make it be people who we all have just about zero percent chance of ever drinking with. I took the liberty of putting down what I feel you'd be most likely to drink with these people. The list is in no particular order and, as always, up for debate. Shall we being...? First up, someone a lot of people now know thanks to The Hangover.
Zach Galifinaikas Killian's Irish Red Zach has recently gained much over due fame by playing a creepy pedophile but his best work to date is actually in the far less popular but equally funny Out Cold. He also has a hilarious comedy DVD titled Live at the Purple Onion in which he drinks what appears to be Killian's after Killian's while playing the classic piano, bashing the crowd, and playing his own fake twin brother. I'm also pretty sure his beard gives him special drinking powers.
Vinnie Jones: Carlsburg If you don't know who Vinnie Jones is throw in Snatch or Lock, Stock
and you'll discover that he is the ultimate English bad ass. Tall, lanky, can't way more than 150 pounds and terrifying. To learn why he's on the list watch Eurotrip to see him open two pints of beer at the same time. With his eye lids. My baby takes the morning train...
Glen Hansard: Guinness; Whiskey, Warm Glen, like Zach, is starting to become a little bit more well known but most people have no idea who he is. Glen is the Lead singer of the bands the Frames and the Swell Season but is perhaps most known for his part in Once and his ridiculous singer/songwriter talent. The best thing about him though is that he tells ridiculous (usually pointless) stories during live concerts in between songs with his insanely thick Irish accent. Also, as is expected from any good Irishman, his face is blanketed by a beautiful orange beard. Slante'!
Gerard Butler The Blood of a million Persians, actually Stoli, Straight You might be saying right now, "Really Adam.. That guy from the ugly truth?" Yes that guy. He's also the guy who has played the Phantom of the Opera and King Leonidas in the most bad ass movie since Pulp Fiction. This man went from being a lawyer, quitting because he drank too much, becoming an actor, staring as one of the most intense singing leads you can find, to having 18 pack abs to nailing Katherine Hiegl. Hey Russel Crowe...He's better than you.
Jeremy Piven: Scotch, Rocks How can Buddy Israel not make the list? Wait... that's not what he's known for? I kid. But in all reality, what other actor would any male want to be on the planet? I would go to a movie theatre to watch this man do drugs off a midget. Which i hear he's into. Hug it out bitch!
Jim Rome Bombay Sapphire, but only 2. "any more and you get sloppy" The king of smack. Romey himself. from 12-3 every day millions of listeners hear him make fun of everything sports related. He gets the best athletes to come on his show and for some reason has serious man crushes on the likes of Ryan Garko, Benny Fransisco and...
Delonte West Red MD 20/20 If the only knowledge you had of Delonte West was his basketball skill you'd say, "Yeah he's a decent guard, but I'd never want to hang out with him." But thanks to Rome is Burning, Youtube, and his ridiculous post game interviews we know that Delonte wants "That Hot Sauce in the bag", that if you ever hang out with him you "Better have my donuts" and that the man has face herpes. I know Jay hates his playing style and all but he's aces in my book. "How playa is that man?"
Andrew McMahon Rolling Rock This one is a little different b/c if you attended the Jack's Mannequin concert at John Carroll (I was unable to, but Vegas was a nice substitute) you may have gotten the chance to have drinks after the show with Andrew. He went out to bars after. Since I did not. He makes the list. As lead singer of the piano rock bands Something Corporate and Jack's Andrew not only fronts two amazing bands, but he is also a cancer survivor who really seems to appreciate life. That and before his cancer bout I'm pretty sure he drank a case of the Rocks during concerts.
Wayne Rooney Newcastle He's built like a football player, is faster then most sprinters, looks like his face melted and he'll chip you from 18 out. If any soccer player on the planet can be considered a bad ass it's this one. All that AND Joe Bott named his dog after him!
Christopher Walkin Anything the man wants, It's Christopher freaking Walkin The man's got a fever and we all know the prescription. He's weird, he's funny, and every single one of us thinks we can do a Walkin impression. You look at him wrong and he'll stab you in the face with a soldering iron. I would drink with this man just to hear him talk. Hopefully he'll have brought kittens!
That's all for part one, I hope you agree. Feel free to tell me who I missed
Part 2 will be soon to come. Until then... Nastrovia!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The first few days
If you're reading this you probably already know that a few days ago I moved down to Cincinnati to attend graduate school at Xavier University. Seeing as how this is the first time I've lived completely on my own I figured I would write about the experience. Maybe it'll be funny, maybe it'll be entertaining, or maybe no one will read it but regardless every couple of days or so I plan on writing something. we'll see how long i stick to it. Here. We. Go. (claps hands together...and I thought my jokes were bad.)
Since moving in on Saturday I've learned a few things that I thought I would share.
-First and foremost- It doesn't matter how nice your couch is if it doesn't make it through the door. Overstuffed couch + narrow apartment hallways= someone else taking your couch from the corner. Currently I have 2 chairs in its place. You can't see it by I'm frowning right now.
-If you put in a request for something to be fixed by maintenance and you're not there, they will unlock your apartment, fix it, and then use different locks so you stare at your door confused for 10 minutes thinking you're at the wrong place. I kept waiting for Ashton to jump out with cameras...
- Don't be nice and introduce yourself to your 80 year old, oxygen tank carrying neighbor; they WILL ask you to carry things for them within 5 minutes of meeting them. Why do the elderly love beats so much?
-The Chopper is the single greatest kitchen tool ever created. I have chopped at least one thing at every meal.
-Single bedroom apartments have more storage space then one person could possibly ever need but for some reason they only supply roughly 9 inches of kitchen counter space.
-I've talked to my family more these last few days on the phone then i did in person.
-You can George Foreman just about anything.
-On the food note... even though I picked out literally every edible thing in my kitchen why do I still open the fridge 15 times a day looking for something to eat?
Alright, that's all for now. Today is moving in time for the incoming freshman and I need to get off campus as soon as possible.
Quick thanks to my parents, Alex, and Heather and Matt for helping me move in. Love you guys!!!
PS... if you know of a browns backer's bar in Cincy please let me know!
Since moving in on Saturday I've learned a few things that I thought I would share.
-First and foremost- It doesn't matter how nice your couch is if it doesn't make it through the door. Overstuffed couch + narrow apartment hallways= someone else taking your couch from the corner. Currently I have 2 chairs in its place. You can't see it by I'm frowning right now.
-If you put in a request for something to be fixed by maintenance and you're not there, they will unlock your apartment, fix it, and then use different locks so you stare at your door confused for 10 minutes thinking you're at the wrong place. I kept waiting for Ashton to jump out with cameras...
- Don't be nice and introduce yourself to your 80 year old, oxygen tank carrying neighbor; they WILL ask you to carry things for them within 5 minutes of meeting them. Why do the elderly love beats so much?
-The Chopper is the single greatest kitchen tool ever created. I have chopped at least one thing at every meal.
-Single bedroom apartments have more storage space then one person could possibly ever need but for some reason they only supply roughly 9 inches of kitchen counter space.
-I've talked to my family more these last few days on the phone then i did in person.
-You can George Foreman just about anything.
-On the food note... even though I picked out literally every edible thing in my kitchen why do I still open the fridge 15 times a day looking for something to eat?
Alright, that's all for now. Today is moving in time for the incoming freshman and I need to get off campus as soon as possible.
Quick thanks to my parents, Alex, and Heather and Matt for helping me move in. Love you guys!!!
PS... if you know of a browns backer's bar in Cincy please let me know!
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