Today

It's not a day for work
today is a day for relaxing at home
listening to the jazz
of raindrops
syncopated slapping
the cymbals of city streets
the polyrhythm of drainpipes
carrying from rooftops
a rushing blue note stream
thumping onto the soil below
the plucking of the bass

It's a day for soup
sipping,
soft slippers slipping
just off and onto your heels
as you lay in the window
reading
watching the wind
blow the day by
inviting a nap
with a cat
so fat!

It is most definitely not a day for work

But alas

I (HEART) LB

I don't want to sound like an American Express commercial here, but I gotta tell ya, I love the city of Long Beach. I made an impromptu visit on Sunday and it was like coming home and not realizing how long you've really been away. I got off the 710 at Shoreline Drive, opened the sunroof and I was loving life. As usual, there were about a half a dozen new assmart stores that had popped up (Famimma!), but it wasn't the things that had changed that stood out to me. It was the things that will always be the same. Everybody's from some place, but not everyone can say they truly have a hometown.

It's Parker's Lighthouse and Joe Jost's. It's the Naples Christmas Boat Parade and the Long Beach Grand Prix. It's Dirtbag Baseball at Blair Field and the home of the 1992 and 1993 Little League World Champions. It's both Snoop D-O-Double-G and still Cameron Diaz, for better or for worse. It's standing in line (WHY?!) at Shannon's Baywhore and the back alley anonymity of Alex's Bar. It's El Dorado Park and The Aquarium of the Pacific. It's 4th of July Fireworks at Vet's Stadium and the running of the grunion! It's the quiet, rustling charm of 2nd Street Belmont Shore and it's never knowing how beautiful an oil island could be. I know Joe will be upset if I don't mention Gaytonia. Long Beach is sophisticated enough to be interesting, but not enough to be full of itself. It has the familiar regularity of small town America and yet it's still a vibrant menagerie of personalities and lifestyles. It's still big enough to get lost in for a while. If cities were rock n' roll stars, Long Beach would be the Bruce Springsteen to L.A.'s David Bowie. It's a fun place to be young and a great place to grow old. It's where my best friends in the world are from and where their parents still live. It's the...ah fuck it.

I was going to do more with this post, but it's late and I just realized that if you're reading this, chances are I'm not telling you anything you don't already know and this might have been a waste of time.

Perception is Reality

Everyday, I get on the freeway at approximately 6:10 p.m. The entrance point goes through an exit-only lane so I have to get over almost immediately. Everyday there is a tow truck interfering with my lane change. It's either pulling off to the shoulder right in front of me or it's already on the shoulder but protruding out a little bit so as to divert my focus to avoiding it. Everyday a tow truck at the same time at the same exact spot on the side of the 405. And not once has there been a car on the shoulder in need of towing.

So I ask you, what the fuck is the tow truck doing?

For weeks, this question has vexed me. Finally, I asked Nicole. She, with very little deliberation, suggested that perhaps the tow truck goes there at rush hour to so it can be the first on the scene when a tow truck is dispatched to an accident. Makes sense, right? Yeah, I had spent a decent amount of time pondering this situation and my best theory was that the truck was involved in drug smuggling and this location on the side of the road must be an exchange point or a drop spot. She's probably right. But I am not giving up on the Drug Smuggler Theory just yet. And if I'm right, I intend to take that mother DOWN.

February 14, 2008

Hearts swoon. Pitchers and catchers report, baby.

Of course, it is also Valentine's Day. I think a love poem is in order...

365

By Jack Buck

When someone asks you your favorite sport

And you answer Baseball in a blink

There are certain qualities you must possess

And you're more attached than you think.

In the frozen grip of winter

I'm sure you'll agree with me

Not a day goes by without someone

Talking baseball to some degree.

The calendar flips on New Year's Day

The Super Bowl comes and it goes

Get the other sports out of the way

The green grass and the fever grows.

It's time to pack a bag and take a trip

To Arizona or the Sunshine State

Perhaps you can't go, but there's the radio

So you listen-you root-you wait.

They start the campaign, pomp and pageantry reign

You claim the pennant on Opening Day
From April till fall

You follow the bouncing white ball

Your team is set to go all the way.

They fall short of the series

You have a case of the "wearies"

And need as break from the game

But when Christmas bells jingle

You feel that old tingle

And you're ready for more of the same.

It will be hot dogs for dinner

Six months of heaven, a winner

Yes, Baseball has always been it.

You would amaze all your friends

If they knew to what ends

You'd go for a little old hit.

The best times you're had

Have been with your Mom and your Dad

And a bat and a ball and a glove.
From the first time you played

Till the last time you prayed

It's been a simple matter of love.

You Make The Call

So here is my dilemna.

I was out a couple days having the surgery. When I returned, I found that my coffee mug had become a petrie dish of mold and petrified coffee. I took it to our kitchen here at work and left it to soak in hot water and dish soap. I have done this many times before at various jobs without incident. I went on about my day and didn't think about it again until I needed coffee the next morning. Come to find out, some nice person had taken the liberty of washing it and putting it away in the cupboard, which is very nice. However, it quickly became evident that some other nice person has taken the liberty of taking it out of the cupboard for their personal use. We have some mugs that don't belong to anyone and are just there to share among those who prefer ceramics to styrofoam and since mine was amongst them, I can't blame someone for using it. But here's the thing...

I want it back. It wasn't there at the end of the day Friday and it's not there this morning. I painted this mug myself as it clearly states on the mug. I was at Color Me Mine, had no idea what I wanted to paint and was running out of time so I ended up painting the words "I painted this mug." I've had this mug for years. It's my bread and butter. It has sentimental value, damn it!

So what do I do? Do I just wait and hope that the borrowe hasn't been charmed by it to the extent that they have no plans of returning it to the cupboard? Do I look like a psycho and go around asking about it?

Argh!

UPDATE: The mug has been recovered! Some nice person had not washed it and put it away, but, rather, put it in the dishwasher. Go figure!

We can make him stronger...

Typing is still uncomfortable so I will be brief. I hath survived. I'm here to tell ya folks, there is nothing like seeing your tendons on TV. Didn't get to see the actual cyst though which was a disappointment. Maybe next time.

Rehab starts NOW!

17-14.

Three slices of pizza, sloppy joes, chips, queso, empanadas, pigs in a blanket, 1.5 cupcakes, and probably seven beers: a morning of feeling like a miserably fat slob with a nagging headache.

Watching the Patriots lose the Superbowl: Priceless.

Pau Pau Zow!

Lakers get Pau Gasol for 60 cents on the dollar! Pau Fucking Gasol, y'all! Do you know what this means?! It means The Dark Days are behind us! We made it! It was just a couple months ago that I was posting about the certain trade of Kobe Bryant and the subsequent downward spiral of the franchise and now....we're an elite team again! NBA FINALS OR BUST!

If the Will Hoge show hadn't already inspired me to grow my beard back, this trade sure as shit would have! Luckily, I got a one-week headstart.

Sweet move by Mitch Kupchak. To paraphrase Lou Brown, I think Mitch just gave his critics a giant shitburger to eat.