Thursday, December 23, 2010

Not Khalid's Huskies

Congratulations to the University of Connecticut Women’s Basketball team(s). Your streak of 89 wins and counting is impressive and you deserve to be lauded and put in the record books. However, I have a slight issue. My problem is not with you or your coach or even your sport, it’s with the media that covers you.

To the media, will you please stop comparing apples to oranges in regard to all sporting feats? Brett Favre’s streak is not the same as Cal Ripken’s. Arguments can be made for both as to which is better and the same goes for the basketball win streak. The UCLA Men’s Basketball teams won 88 straight games and the UConn Women’s team has won 89 now. Yes, 89 is a larger number than 88. However, men’s basketball is not the same as women’s basketball. Sure, the rules are mostly the same and the object of the game is not changed, but there are plenty of differences. The biggest differences are in the style of play and in the athletes that allow for that style of play.

This year’s UConn team has players ranging in height from 5’4” to 6’5”. The 1974 UCLA team featured one of the greatest collegiate basketball players ever in Bill Walton, who was 6’11” and 210 pounds. From the limited research I just did, I couldn’t find a player shorter than 6’3” on that 1974 team. If there was some mystical dimension where these two teams would be able to play against each other, I would be very surprised if the women would score more than 20 points. The two teams are not comparable, so why should their streaks be?

As I said, the media should stop comparing apples to oranges or to be more genitally comparable – bananas to, um, warm-apple pies. I keep seeing articles and commentators saying that the UConn women have beaten the Men’s Basketball record. No, they haven’t, because they aren’t men. They are women; they have a Women’s Basketball record. If you want to compare the two, then just say basketball record. I have no problem with that.

It is not my intention of taking anything away from the Huskies, nor do I mean to belittle their accomplishments. They have achieved basketball greatness over the past 3 seasons. They deserve all of the attention and to get phone calls from the President and to go on the Late Show or Oprah for all I care. Well not Oprah, I don’t like her. Everything else though, go for it.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

You sit on a throne of lies.

As some of you may know it is one of my career dreams to be an advice columnist for some trashy women’s magazine. I would ease minds and soothe ailing hearts while delivering truths of the male mind. I came to have this dream after too many years of women complaining about all men are pigs and jerks and blah, blah, blah. You know why you think this? It’s because you read sensational articles on men that only cover a small percentage of the gender. That small percentage just happens to be the percentage of men that are the pigs and jerks. When I came across this unreasonable article claiming to inform women all about the 5 Secrets All Guys Keep From You, I could stand idly by no longer. Roger Bennett and Glamour are giving us all a bad name and preying on your need to trash men. They need to be stopped. Before I turn into the Hulk with rage, here are the alleged secrets and my opinion of them.

5. Hooters’ wings stop tasting good when we have a daughter.

- Hooters’ wings stop tasting good when they hit your tongue. Anyone who believes this either has no taste buds or has never had any hot wings other than Hooters'. I’m sorry, but no guy goes to Hooters for the first time or the second or the 152nd to have the wings. He goes because there are scantily clad, buxom women willing to bring him beer and deep fried food when he asks for it. If having a daughter really made the wings stop tasting good, then fathers would not frequent strip clubs, view pornography, ogle cheerleaders/dance teams at sporting events, or have impure thoughts about their college-aged daughter’s barely legal friends. Only the tasteless give a damn about the wings.

4. Sex and the City was a hit with men, too, because we saw it as a wildlife doc on how women behave.

- Sex and the City was not a hit with men and it is not an accurate reflection on how women behave. If all women behave like this, then I want absolutely nothing to do with them. The main characters are nothing but stereotypes. They’re all self-obsessed, gold digging, vapid strumpets. Enjoy the show/movies for the humor or whatever, but any man who thinks this is how women behave is delusional. I cannot name one friend of mine that would watch this show if a wife/girlfriend didn’t insist on watching it. As a side note, it is almost impossible for us to not look at a television if it is on.

3. There’s no correlation between how happy our sex life is and how much we use the Western grip in private.

- You have to be effing kidding me. If our sex life is happy and we get it on the “reg” (to quote Kenny Powers), yet we still need to take care of business often, then something is amiss. Yes, we will still practice this art, because sometimes the urge hits us and you aren’t around/in the mood. Damn those headaches. The only guys this applies to are the creeps that can’t practice self-control long enough, so they rub one out in rest stop bathrooms and during breaks at work. Note – I have no proof of that happening, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Some of us are fairly base creatures.

2. We hear only the first half of what you say. It’s a medical condition.

- Why is it necessary to continue the proliferation of the ideology that men are incapable of listening. Sure, we don’t pay attention when you talk sometimes. This is generally when we are watching TV and you start talking about shoes or what your friend Becky did the other day. If you want us to listen, then make sure we are engaged in you. Try waiting for commercials or when we’re eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner with you. The truth is that we hear absolutely everything you say, we just don’t remember it all, because there is too much information coming at us all at once. I know women that tell stories in the following fashion. They give the setting, the temperature inside and outside, everyone who was there and what they were wearing (Everyone had on red sweaters, no wait, they were blue. The sweaters were blue. Or were they red? Yes, red, definitely red, because I remember liking them and I don’t like blue sweaters, so they had to be red.), who they spoke to on the phone before the event happened, and then about an hour later will finally get to the point. Enough with the red herrings - be succinct. Tell us what’s important and if we need more info, we will ask questions. It’s not nagging that kills us, it’s drowning in useless information. We are functional beings – if we can’t put our heads on the throw pillows, then why are they on the bed? Please get to the point already.

1. Any feelings we harbor for an ex are eclipsed by the love of our first Playboy.

- If this were true, then I would still have my first Playboy and it wouldn’t have degraded in a landfill somewhere, ruining the water table with its smutty, smutty ink. Any real life girl that has allowed us the privilege of seeing them naked automatically takes up more memory capacity than a magazine. This isn’t even true for the exes that cheat on us or break our Playstations and throw our clothes out on the lawn. (I will admit if this happens, it was probably deserved.) Even in this situation though, we still have more feelings for our ex. The feelings might be an intense, gonorrhea style burning hatred, but feelings nonetheless.

Aside from these secrets being almost entirely false, they aren’t even secrets. If you want to know about our first Playboy or our opinion on Hooters, then ask us. Don’t hint or tip-toe around the subject. Be straightforward, tell us what you want to know and we’ll answer. Only the jerks will lie.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Funny or Not

Let's play a game called, Is This Funny or Not? You will read a text conversation I had recently with a friend. I was at work when the conversation took place, so I was bored, naturally. Typically, when I'm bored, I do one of two things. I either bite my nails or I find ways to amuse myself, often in some sort of improvisational way. Which is what I did. My friend played the straight man quite well, by the way. You will join the conversation at the tail end of a beautifully delivered pep talk I gave to my friend who has been struggling in softball. Let's play.

Friend: I have softball at 6pm, so I will have to see.
Me: Okay, good luck. Keep your eye on the ball use two hands when catching and have fun.
F: I will do my best. Lately, I suck though.
Me: Keep your head up. Just take good cuts and everything will work out. All players go through slumps.
F: Wow, thanks coach.
Me: You're welcome. Pep talks are my specialty. Well, that and flower arrangements.
F: Flower arrangements?
Me: Yes, they're my real passion in life. I make them in baskets. Wicker and non-wicker. Sometimes in the shape of things - like garden gnomes and lawn jockeys.
F: How come I don't see them in the house?
Me: I give them away immediately or bury them in the yard. For extra, I will create them in your home, so I can feel inspired by the aura of your living space.
F: Do I have to make an appointment?
Me: Usually, but sometimes there are cancellations due to illness, allergies, or demonic possession.
F: Understandable.
Me: Did you want to make an appointment or are you just inquiring? You should know that I cannot be held liable for any subsequent spirit infestations once my ritual has been finished.
F: I will sign the waiver.
Me: It's all in the contract. I'll have Virgil bring it over. Be sure to read subsection C. It details what kind of beings may inhabit your home via the gateway. They're mostly good, but sometimes you get poltergeists, succubi, or the homeless. It's like our motto says, Without demons there wouldn't be exorcists. Could you imagine the unemployment rate if exorcists weren't in demand? I get the chills just thinking about it.

That was when my friend lost interest in the direction of the conversation. Friend started complaining about cherries tasting like they were soaked in olive juice. I said, they probably were. Since garnishes aren't kept separate and sometimes they integrate, which is called progress.

Well, funny or not.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Hello, I have a problem that I can't tell you about.

Pretty much every job I have ever had has been in some sort of customer service capacity. In those jobs, I have encountered some dumb questions and customers with problems that they can't figure out. While they may not know a lot about their problem, I could usually fix it through a series of questions. However, now that I work in an IT type position, my clarification questions can't even be answered. To give you an example, I have prepared a paraphrased conversation I had with a coworker (CW) yesterday. A little more info on this before I start though. The system they called me about is one that I don't work with very often. In fact, when a customer has a problem with it, they are supposed to call a completely different workgroup for help. However, since I'm a nice guy, I try to help out. Well, enjoy the conversation.

Me - Hi, CW.
CW - Hi, I have a client that is having a problem with the system.
Me - Okay, what is the problem?
CW - When they sign in all of the numbers are Xd out.
Me - What numbers?
CW - I don't know.
Me - Well, where in the signing in process are they?
CW - I took them through that PDF that they sent out.
Me - Okay, but what was the last step they did?
CW - I don't know, I went through the PDF with them.
Me- Right, but I'm not familiar with that PDF, can you tell me the last thing they did?
CW -We went through the PDF.
Me - Is this the first time they have signed on?
CW - Yes.
Me - Okay, have they created their security questions?
CW - I'll tell them they need to do that.
Me - Wait, have they created the security questions?
CW - I don't know.
Me - Where in the signing in process are they? What was the last thing you had them do?
CW - I don't know, we went through the whole PDF.
Me - I understand that, but I don't know what PDF you are referring to. Has the client signed in or are they having problems with that process?
CW - I don't know. I'll just try to help them myself.
Me - Okay, bye.

I'll admit that I am not the best at fixing these sorts of problems. However, I'm not an effing psychic. Please provide me with a few details about the issue. I can't just magical make something work, because you say it's not working.

I never found out what exactly the problem was and my best guess is that there wasn't a problem. I'm pretty sure the numbers being Xd out is a normalcy for the system they were working in. Since, my coworker couldn't tell me anything other than there was a PDF involved and it resulted in numbers being Xd out - I just couldn't help. What fun awaits me today?

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

The Joker is a Wanted Man

Throughout my storied nigh 30 years, I have had nights of dreamless sleep, nights filled with vivid visions, caffeine-aided nightmares, and of course, afternoon naps accompanied with night terrors, "Ah, cobras!"

Occasionally, I am graced with the recurring dream. I have had a few of these over the years. The most prevalent one consisting of being chased by some evil creature with my voice paralyzed, not allowing for a scream or even a whisper for help. The dream generally ending in a sudden awakening joined by shortness of breath.

The creature dream hasn't been around a whole lot lately, I cannot even remember the last time I had it. It has been supplanted by a new one, perhaps a new worry or some paranoia that is creeping into my thoughts at night. It is certainly the most perplexing one I have had, even more so than the one where my teeth disintegrate.

My new night-time visitor is an odd one and instead of the stage being set in a familiar place, I find myself in a lesser known arena - Phoenix or so I assume, definitely Arizona though.

Typically beginning with my return from an event - a concert, bris, scrapbooking party, what have you. I for some reason always park in a field behind a large suburban house. I don't believe that I spend any time in this house, it's just where I park. Makes sense right?

Upon my return, I walk to where I left my car only to find it absent. Considering that my dream-self might be crazy, I scour the field for my vehicle. Realizing that my craziness is less likely an option, I decide my car has indeed been stolen. After some further inspecting, I find a baseball mitt and a flyer. The mitt, again I assume was in my car. The flyer is an advertisement of sorts for a local criminal organization. This organization isn't necessarily in the business of "stealing" cars, instead they tow them (unwarrantedly), leave the flyer, and then collect a whopping $20 for the reunion between driver and automobile. Unfortunately, the dream never concludes with the reunion.

Well, that's my dream and now I want Chinese food.


Sunday, May 9, 2010

An Ode to Grocery Store Fowl

Oh, Oh, Jenny-O
Your gobbler is simply the best
A cure for even the most manically depressed
At 10, 12 or even 20
Your poundage is to be revered
A pardon from Pawlenty
Hunger to have appeared
Mass riots from your absence
Causes concern for the innocents
Tofurkey is just as good, they say
But it's to hell for PETA one day
Ended not by sword, gun, or obese overjoyed
It's a baster that shall be employed
Oh, Oh, Jenny-O


Sunday, May 2, 2010

Chili Doritos, Twizzlers, and Mountain Dew

An American meal like no other. I am unsure if it was Chili Doritos or Chili Fritos, but I do know that it started with Chili (not all that positive about the Chili part either, but it's what I'm going with) and ended in ritos. The favorite American meal of the one and only Gareth Campesinos. At least that's what he told us. And I believe him, because he's Welsh and I am very trusting of the Welsh. After all, it's because of Catherine Zeta-Jones that I use T-Mobile. Any other nationality and I would be like everyone else and have an iPhone and I would be playing Words with Friends with my real life friends and my new cell phone game friends.

Opening for Los Campesinos! was Cymbals Eat Guitars, who are apparently the Indie flavor of the month and I must say it's deserving and they love the bass. At one point, I thought I was going to develop heart arryhthmia it was so bone rattling. I liked it.

The 8 piece band from Cardiff plays with enough energy to power a keychain flashlight for an hour or so, maybe one of those laser pointers for 15 minutes. Just long enough to fatigue an obese cat trying to catch the magic dot. My goal is to be complimentary here, but I'm not an engineer, so I have no idea how much energy is required to power anything. However, I do know that I hate watch batteries and I strongly like Los Campesinos! and you should too.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Taking the Internet by Storm.

Inaugural post. I enjoy writing, so this is an attempt to make me do it everyday or at least every other day. Thus far the name of this blog has no meaning, other than I like Lo Mein and usually order it by the quart.

Right now, I'm putting off going to Home Depot to acquire the necessary tools to perform yard work with. Instead, I am watching Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li. It is really bad and has probably made its crappy way into the top 10 worst movies I have ever "watched" list. I put watch in quotes because I'm not paying a ton of attention.

Anyway, I'm going to see Los Campesinos! tonight and it is assuredly going to be the best part of my weekend. Wow, this movie is so bad. I'll probably write about the show later, so tune in. It will eventually be worth it.