Christmas 'Coaster

The work is nearly over and the fun part of the ride is about to begin.

It was a stressful weekend of shopping, cleaning, and reorganizing, the nerveracking clink-clink-clink of the chain pulling my little rollercoaster car seemingly straight in the sky. With the Christmas parties of Friday and Saturday night, I could begin to see where the track appeared to end, curving out of sight into a plummet downward. As I cruised home from my grandparents on Sunday night, I felt that brief moment of weightless joy as the climb has ended, just before the pull of gravity snatches you back to Earth. Coming back from a nice visit with my family, I felt a sentimental rush and sensed perhaps for the first time that the holiday season was actually here all around me, no longer an idea in my mind or a series of notes on the calendar. Even though I was in my car alone, speeding down the freeway, I felt that rare, joyous sense of being in the moment.

I think it started on Saturday when we were cleaning out the office, clearing room for Bill Brasky and Sarah to sleep when they arrive this week. I opened the bottom cupboard of my bookcase for the first time in at least two years and began going through old photos and letters. Nothing like sifting through the past to remind you of how far you've come and all the places you've been. I read letters from my friend Adam he sent me while he was in on his mission in Japan and I was away at school. Reading these letters he wrote when he was probably only nineteen, he already had a clear sense of direction and purpose, saying how he wanted to practice law and join the Navy. Ten years later, that's exactly what he's doing today. I found letters from an old girlfriend. It's always amazing to me to see these little time capsules, these expressions of love that was so true at the time, but seems so odd when seen in the context of the present circumstances. I, of course, am happily married. She is married and has a daughter. It's a simple concept, I guess, that people love for a time and then things happen, you move on and find your ultimate happiness with someone else. But it's always amazing to me how it happens. I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge viewing my memories large as life through a pane of snow-frosted glass. One second you are there again and then the window turns dark and you are standing in the cold with a ghost. That sounds much more grim than I mean it to. There was no sadness involved at all. Obviously, things turned out for the best and I wouldn't trade it for the world. My point is just to say how interesting it is how our lives truly are journeys, how what we know to be true today can change so drastically by tomorrow, and what an odd sensation it is to flip open the book of this journey and find yourself a hundred pages back, just like that. It's also fascinating to me how old letters can occur to you as new information. I found one letter from the old girlfriend where I guess we had had a fight and she was apologizing, but standing firm on the her request that had apparently started the whole thing. And what was this request by which I was apparently so offended and opposed? To set aside time for us to go on a date just the two of us...once a month! What nerve!, right? Oy. Don't you just look back at yourself sometimes and just shake your head about what an idiot you were? The solace, of course, comes when you realize you can't know anything without learning it first and that the mistakes of the past have only paved the way for a better future. So Nicole(2), my bride, the next time you trip over one of my many faults, just be thankful you didn't meet me earlier!

I read letters from my mom when she was living in Italy as part of her training. In one letter she referenced where I could stay when I came to visit and some of the things we might do when I was there. I was surprised by this because I don't recall ever entertaining any idea of going to visit, which I am sure I didn't. Who knows, the young punk me probably thought he didn't want to stay with a bunch of priests. I'll give myself a slight break though in that I had never traveled to Europe at that point and barely had money to grab a burger and a beer so the whole idea probably just seemed unreal to me. In every letter from my mom, whether she was telling me about her experiences in Rome or her realization that she was finally in the right place in her life, one phrase common to every letter was to say "write me." I felt my heart sink a little bit, realizing if she kept telling me to write her, it was likely that I had not. As fate would have it, she called me later that day and I was able to apologize for being a self-centered twenty-year-old. Luckily, she had not been holding a grudge.

Perhaps the most meaningful experience of the whole process was reading letters and cards from my late grandmother, on my dad's side. Of course our passed loved ones remain alive in our hearts, but to see her handwriting and hear her words in my head...she was alive again. It was as if I had just pulled these letters not from a dusty box on a shelf, but from the mailbox out front. I laughed as I was reminded how she would go on telling me all about the lives of her old friends or coworkers, people I had and would never meet. I will say, I was more able now to discern the point she was trying to make, but it was more about reliving the little quirks that made my Nana unique. As more of the new information from old letters I referred to earlier, I learned or was reminded that my grandpa on my mom's side had gone to visit her in the hospital before she died. They had probably not seen each other since my parents divorced some seventeen years before so this gesture really choked me up for a moment. This was a feeling that would carry over to my visit on Sunday and have my heart feeling so full on the drive home Sunday night.

It's the sensation of looking at people you've loved and held on a pedastal for so many years and suddenly, amazingly, you see them in a new light and you realize you love them even more than you thought you did.

I had a really nice visit while I was down there, my last chance before Christmas. I felt like I was able to not only enjoy the company of my family, but also to express to them how much I loved them, if only by being fully present and staying as long as I could. After spending so much time on Saturday revisiting the past and its inevitable regrets, I appreciated the present all the more. In the moment--it's a great place to be. No idea how to get to it, nor how to stay, but you sure know it when you are there.

This is what the holidays are all about for me, a reaffirmation of all that is good in life, the people that are most important, and all the ways in which I am blessed. Okay, that and egg nog. And mulled wine. And cookies and other sweet indulgences. So to recap, that's a egg nog, mulled wine, cookies, various other sweet indulgences, and a reaffirmation of all that is good in life. Done and done.

Now the coaster begins to point downward and the ride really begins. Bill Brasky arrives tomorrow night. Hanging with the guys all week leading up to Kissen's wedding on Saturday. Disneyland(!) Sunday. Off to Denver on Tuesday. Ice skating, gift wrapping, dogsledding, stew-cooking, family, family, family. It's Christmas at last! This is me, arms in the air, ready to scream my head off the whole ride through.

Christmas In My Head (Now here's a wall so you can bang yours against it)

December is finally here! Amen. Do you know what this means? It means the advent calendar is now more than decoration! It's in use, baby! It means the lighting of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center! Perhaps above all else, it means I don't have to hear it anymore from the "Christmas music, already?" crowd. Those sad sack, anti-Christmas Eeyores have finally run out of material to moan about. Nothing can stop me now!

One reason I start early every year is that there is so little time actually available to do all the holiday-related things I want to do each year. Every year I think of baking all day one day, seeing a million movies, making people gifts, writing out Christmas cards, writing out Christmas letters, visiting friends and family, curling up with Mr. Frodo and a good book, playing boardgames, taking a trip up to the mountains, going to Disneyland, decorating the tree, having a Christmas cocktail party, going caroling, volunteering at a soup kitchen, exercising to offset the holiday gluttony, chopping wood, going to Starbucks for seasonal delights, strolling the beautifully decorated canals of Belmont Shore...I seriously could go on. The problem is I lose 40 hours a week to fluorescent lighting and paper pushing. Other than the three paltry weekends that fill up around Halloween, I am forced to fulfill my Christmas checklist through fantasy, daydreaming if you will. This, my friends, is why I decorate the office and play Christmas music with two weeks until Thanksgiving, because I need audio/visual aids. I sometimes wonder if I sometimes had the free time to do all the things I'd like to in a holiday season if I wouldn't explode. In the wise words of the immortal Clark W. Griswold, Jr., I might be the jolliest asshole this side of the nuthouse, needing plastic surgery to remove my smile. Man would it be sweet. Of course there is one crucial element of that list that absolutely cannot be spared nor can it, unfortunately, be daydreamed away....shopping.

I love Christmas shopping as long as 1) I have ample time so that I can go at an enjoyable pace and 2) I have a list to work from that I feel confident about. In other words, almost never. And that is what creates the darker side of Christmas in my head. As Kory or Adam or actually almost any friend can attest, I am chronically indecisive. I think about things way more than they usually merit. I hem and haw about which jeans to wear each day. I agonize over what to have for lunch. When it comes to something as meaningful as giving Christmas gifts, I fall victim to paralysis by analysis year after year after year. I think that's nice...but would they really like it? I don't know.....Do they already have one? I don't know if when they open this it will mean to them what it means to me to give it to them. I could explain it I guess, but how good a gift could it be if I have to explain it? Should I just go with a gift card? No, I refuse. Should I ask so-and-so what they want since they probably know? That's just giving up. What about this, this seems like them. But is it personal enough or does it scream "work gift being re-gifted?" Is it wrong to give Christmas stuff as Christmas gifts? I guess it might be since they don't open it until the pinnacle of the season. What about tickets to something? Then they'll think I'm implying that they have to take me and will not believe me even if I swear otherwise. I got it! That would be perfect! Boo-ya! Shit, I can't really afford that. You know what, the budget is a guideline. This is the gift and the cost is secondary. Although I think so-and-so is bound to be getting them that. What if they like the one from me better and it causes friction in their relationship. Better play it safe and abort. Screw it, I can't make a good decision in this hypertensive state. I'll sleep on it and start fresh tomorrow.

Every. Single. Time.

It really saps my Christmas spirit, I tell ya. Friends, please know this, if I ever give you a gift that you don't like, it is not for a lack of care or thought. If it truly is the thought that counts, chances are, it's the greatest gift in the world even if your taste says otherwise.

P.S. Which Christmas album should I get, Tony Bennett, Diana Krall, or Neil Diamond? I can't make these choices on my own.

Rivalry

It pains me to say it, but Bill Plaschke is the only one who gets it right.

http://www.latimes.com/sports/college/usc/la-sp-plaschke29-2009nov29,0,5628166.column

Walk This Way

You know how you think someone likes you and considers you a friend, and then something happens and you realize they may have just been being polite or keeping the peace all this time?

There was an incident in the parking lot this morning that, if I didn't know better, would otherwise prove to be just such a rude awakening.

A coworker and I arrived at precisely the same moment. She was closing her driver-side door just as I was opening my trunk. I yelled out a "Hello" in my usual workplace Russian accent. She replied. I then turned to gather my things. In a matter of five seconds, I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, closed the trunk and looked over, expecting to see my coworker there waiting for me. She wasn't there. In a state of shock, I turned toward the building and saw her walking 20 paces ahead, making a beeline for the door. I couldn't believe it.

Luckily, I know not to take this particular instance personally. This coworker is famous for not being a morning person and I have the utmost confidence that this was not a slight against me personally. However, I think it could still prove to be a good test for the future. It's definitely a choice you make. Last week, another coworker (on the other side of our bullpen wall) arrived at the same time as me. As it became clear that I was waiting for her, she, without making eye contact, began fidgeting in her car with various nondescript busyness. Now that was clearly someone buying time to avoid what they feared would be an awkward walk-in. I know because I've done it myself.

"Oh shit there's so and so. You know I really need to clean out this middle console..."

!Vamos Barthelona!

Barcelona has been at the top of my list of world destinations I would love to visit pretty much since my first journey overseas almost three years ago. The art of the modernistas, the colorful traditions, the wine, the paella, the culture, the architecture, the futbol, the pride of the Catalan people, it was all calling my name.

I knew Conrad was going in January. He found out that one of the execs we used to work for had a place there and, I don't know how, but he procured use of the place. And for no charge at that. I was happy for him, of course, knowing it would be an incredible experience for him, but as I told him, I was also openly envious.

According to him, he asked me if I wanted to go, but I told him even if I could get the time off work, which was highly unlikely, that there was no way I could afford it. I actually think this part is probably 100% true. The part where we begin to diverge is where he says he twice offered to buy my airfare. The first time, or so the story goes, I refused because I didn't believe him. The second time, he claims, I turned him down again, saying even if he got my ticket, I would have no money to do anything once we got there. While that certainly sounds like me, I just can't believe I would be so short-sighted or dense as to turn down free airfare and free lodging for the top destination on my places-to-see-before-I-die list over something as ultimately trivial as spending money. It's unimaginable to me and I will admit I can be very stupid sometimes. But I digress.

Come to find out, The Doug was now on board for the trip. That didn't really change anything for me, except refresh the topic in my mind as I see The Doug more often than Conrad these days since Conrad is in Atlanta. But still, the timing is financially incompatible for me so what did it matter? In the waning hours of a slow work day, I looked into airfares on a whim. They were over $900. Case closed, so much for that daydream.

Then I got an email from a coworker with all sorts of travel deals. She has no idea why she gets them or when she starting getting them, but she makes a habit of passing them along to us. I am skimming one of them and see a link for LA to Barcelona for ~$500. Whaaa? Turns out it's legit. So I talk to Nicole. Apparently, she is pining for the Wife of the Year Award because I can think of no other way that she greenlights this thing. She's not working at the moment so times are tight, not to mention that the travel dates would mean spending our first New Year's Eve as a married couple some 6,000 miles and an ocean apart to say nothing of the fact that I would be going to Barcelona(!) without her. And yet, she gave me the Go seemingly without hesitation. All I can guess is that having been there before and knowing how badly I wanted to go, she valued my happiness above all else (And the award goes to......Nicole!). So I had that going for me, which was nice...

Next I had to clear it with the boss. He's going to be in Germany for almost the exact same period, but that could have worked for or against me. I don't know. One thing that was definitely not helping me was that I was already the first one in our department leaving town for Christmas. What could I do, that trip was booked, and, besides, that's Christmas. I wasn't about to mess with that even if I could. With nothing to offer as bargaining collateral, I pitched him the idea, stressing it as perhaps my best opportunity to see my most desired location on the globe. He would need to think about it, of course. If he were to come back and say no deal, I would not have even been that disappointed as I knew it was really too much time to ask for right now. I would have chalked it up to fate and moved on. But he said yes.

In the end, it all fell to me. To go or not to go. Could I afford it? Absolutely not. Was it the responsible choice? Probably not. Would it mean we would be homeless and hungry? Well, not necessarily. Was it an incredible opportunity and perhaps my best shot to see Barcelona? It just might have been. Sadly, I must admit that knowing me, I would have bet that I would play it safe and let the parade pass me by. It didn't use to be that way with me, not as much anyway, but it has been since adulthood took hold. I am glad to report that, like most others, it's a bet I would have lost.

I decided that if I waited for the perfect time to do something like this, I would probably be waiting for the rest of my life. The airfare was as low as it gets, the lodging was free. What more did I really expect to have going for me? There is no perfect time for anything. There are only opportunities to act and the choices we make at those moments in time. I looked in the mirror and decided I was much more likely to regret not going than I was to regret going. The time was now.

So I booked it.

Barcelona, stay there, I'm coming to you.

"LAY OFF ME, I'M STARVING!"

Why?! Why?! Why did they have to tell me this?!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34023406/ns/today-today_health/

Now I can never in good conscience get popcorn at a movie again! Did you hear what I just said? I can never get friggin' popcorn at a friggin' movie ever a-friggin'-gain! Not without feeling like I am about to blow up like Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor. What's next, a riveting expose about the nutritional value of ballpark hot dogs?** Why would they do this to me as we stand at the threshold of the holiday season, prime movie-going time? Are they trying to ruin my Christmas? With all the naysayers I am encountering lately, I am beginning to think there may be a secret, subversive strikeforce aimed at sabotaging my Christmas spirit. I wonder if Glen Beck knows about this. No matter, my spirit is impenetrable and undeniable. Bring it on, I say!

**I have been watching The Today Show every weekday morning for years. As much as I can't stand Meredith Viara (sp?), I do love the Anne Curry and the indomitably jolly Al Roker. I believe Matt Lauer was on my man-crush list when I posted that a while back. Anywho, the more I watch it, the more I realize how much of the show is devoted to the issue of peoples' weight or weight loss. If it's not a segment about how unhealthy our favorite foods are, it's a story about how someone lost 150 pounds. It's really The Today (You're fat!), Today (You're not) Show.

Targhz-A

Feels like a great day to go to Target. I shall do it over lunch. I need Fantastik, Christmas-colored candles, possibly more decor if the price is right, and a squeegee. That's what I am going in for anyway. Lord only knows what I will come out with.

I'm decorating this office for Christmas today, even if I have to fight my coworkers off in the process. The time has come. Since we're not going to be here much the week of Christmas, I think the decoration period should begin one week earlier so as to ensure the proper incubation period of our Christmas spirit. Speaking of Scrooges, has anyone seen the Jim Carrey "Christmas Carol" yet? I am pumped but there are a lot of movies to see so I don't want to go if it sucks or induces motion-sickness.

RUN, DON'T WALK!!!

So I get a coupon this morning in my inbox from my dear friends at Dick's (formerly Chick's, I shit you not) Sporting Goods.

LUNCH SALE!!! 4 HOURS ONLY!!!!

Wow, four hours only, I'm thinking it must be a helluva deal they are giving me, a deal so great they can not offer it any longer than those four precious hours for fear of going out of business. So I read on.

SAVE 20% ON ANY SINGLE ITEM*!!!!

Okay, so that's not exactly a price slasher, but hey, after tax it takes 10% off of something and, sure, I'd rather pay 90% than 100. So I'm interested. Then I scroll down and check where the asterisk leads me to the fine print:


*Excludes: Burton, EA Sports Active, Odyssey, championship merchandise, adidas golf, Adams Golf, Asics, Atec, Baby Jogger, Bowflex, Brooks, Carhartt, Callaway, Cleveland, Cobra Golf, Columbia, DeMarini, Easton, Ektelon, Fitness Quest, FootJoy, Gun Safes, Head, Horizon, Jugs, K2, Kettler, K-Swiss, Lobster, Louisville Slugger, MBS Mountainboards, MBT, Merrell, Miken Sports, Mission, Mizuno, Mongoose, Nextt Golf, Nike Pro, LIVESTRONG, Nike Hyperize, Nike AF1 and Jordan, Nike Golf, Oakley, Prince, Pro Feet, Puma, Rawlings, Razors, Rollerblade, Reebok EasyTone, Salomon, Schwinn, Skechers Shape Ups, Skycaddie, Sole, TaylorMade, The North Face, Thule, Titleist, Tour Edge, Trend Sports, Under Armour, and Worth, all electronics/optics, ellipticals, treadmills, home gyms, weights, benches, Yakima, select basketball systems, canoes, kayaks, boats, trolling motors, fish locators. Some additional exclusions may apply. See website for details.


Gee. Thanks, Dick.

Ya know, I was in the Christmas spirit anyway, but today I am feeling the overwhelming draw to be in my sweats, hanging out with family, sipping wine (or schnapps-laced chocolate), watching Christmas movies, listening to music, sitting by a fireplace and staring out to a white winter landscape. I'm physically and emotionally exhausted and all I want is to feel warm, and free to just be. The therapy of Christmas.

Eat The Rich

Actual quotes from born Yankee Mark Teixeira after last night's World Series clinching victory:

"To the rich go the spoils." (Not to the victors, mind you, but to the rich. But I guess he's right.)

"(George Steinbrenner) deserves to have the best team money can buy."

These are your Yankees.

Nothin much

--Today I witnessed the absolute worst office chorus "Happy Birthday" in the history of organized labor. It had a void of enthusiasm similar to the birthday cake scene from "Office Space," but without any of the coordination of voices. We had four different groups singing the same song at the same time, yet each group was 5 words off from the others. It sounded like we were playing a record backwards, "happy birthday, dear Michael" becoming "zz-iv-en-nee-sar Michael is dead tors-en-sloop-quax-en-fice..." And at least the characters in "Office Space" actually ate the cake, except Milton of course but that wasn't by choice. As soon as our pathetic rendition of the easiest song ever was over, half the gathering emptied out of there like someone had just farted on the cake. Really, really sad. The cake fit the rest of the effort too. The plastic lid came off it about 30 seconds before the guest of honor came over. There was a totally random and meaningless number of candles plopped on there. No need to avoid messing up the custom writing of "Happy Birthday, Michael" because there was nothing of the sort. And the poor guy is one of the longest tenured, nicest guys on the show. I can't wait for my birthday. It's gonna be 5 people huddled around a Nutri-Grain bar with a single match stuck in it. They probably won't even sing "Happy Birthday." They'll probably sing some generic, made-up birthday song like the TV shows that don't want to pay the royalties for the real McCoy. All the more reason to play hookie that day, I think.

--It occured to me over the weekend that the Yankees are really the Ed Hardy of baseball. Nauseatingly expensive, overpriced, superficial, tasteless, soulless, and yet incredibly popular. Wearing Ed Hardy really defines you as a person, though not the way those wearing it think it does. So does rooting for the Yankees*. I think Bill Simmons put it best when he said "rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for the house in blackjack."

*Amanda excluded from this thesis

Happy Halloween, My Friends...

I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Dos Equis. Stay thirsty, my friends.

Nice Little Tuesday

I must have gotten one helluva nice night's sleep last night because I feel like a new man today. Refreshed! Rejuvenated! Renewed! I just wish I could better use of my buoyant spirit today. I could pay invoices while in a coma so it feels like a waste to do it today. Of course we're all familiar with calling in sick, but what about calling in feeling unusually great?

"Hey Boss...Yeah, I woke up this morning and I just felt fantastic. I mean I am really feeling spectacular. I don't think I should come in today, lest this spirit end up being contagious. Thanks for understanding. I'm sure I'll be back tomorrow."

I don't know, I don't think it would fly. Ah well, days like this are what daydreaming are for, right? I give you...

My Fake Day:

--I think I would start off with a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks. They've been back for over a month and I have had, what, two? What is wrong with me?

--On that note, I am also long overdue on the fall playlist. Thanks to Wayne, my operation is mobile now. I started work on it yesterday and after about 2 hours I was not through the letter D. I don't think I want to spend the whole day on the computer though so I'll go with an on-the-go list of James Taylor and Alison Krauss.

--I think the first thing I would do is hop in the car and head east, out to Oak Glen. That's apple country, folks. I have also heard rumors of foliage, but I don't want to get my hopes up. Let's just do some apple picking. Let's walk around the orchard and just smell the trees and the dirt and the fruit. Just truly breathe. I brought sandwiches so we can eat lunch right out under that old tree. On our way out of town, we'll stop into one of the local diners for fresh apple fritters and cider.

--When we get home, we'll put those freshly picked apples to use. I am not a big fan of apple pie generally. I have nothing against it, but if I am having pie, I would prefer blueberry, pecan, or pumpkin. Then again I have never had a freshly home baked apple pie! House Rule #1 for my kitchen: Any serious culinary effort must be accompanied by a glass of wine. Now that that's settled, Well get our hands dirty making a good old fashioned apple pie. This "house" is going to smell like the bakery in heaven on Christmas morning.

--While the pie is baking, I'll take a walk up the street I am naming the Miracle Quarter-Mile, that oft mentioned block where the trees think they are in New England and not West LA. It's a nice little walk, especially with the Halloween decorations some houses have put up. One has a group of young white-sheet ghosts circling around a tree in the front yard. I'll snap a few photos, gather some of the red and yellow leaves that have fallen.

--When we get home, we'll pull that pie out of the oven and cut right into it. I know it's supposed to cool, but who can wait. I'll abide a sloppy first slice. I think I'll put a slice of cheddar cheese on mine. I've always heard about this, but never actually tried it. Maybe that's the missing ingredient for me and apple pie. It's worth a try.

--After pie, we'll play a board game or, better yet, take a nap. A sugar coma is no big deal if you are able to just give in to it, go with it.

--When we wake up, we'll hop in the car again and head for the beach. Sidebar: I know I have stretched time a bit here. It would probably be 8 pm by this point, but this is fantasy so I'll stretch this day as long as I want it. I drive home along the beach everyday and as great as that is, I never stop. It's so beautiful, I don't want to pass it by so quickly. I feel the urge to walk down to the water, stare out for more than fleeting glances as I avoid a head-on collision with oncoming traffic. But I would prefer to not do it alone either so today is the day to do it right. We'll walk along the beach hand-in-hand like a living chick flick (the we I have been referring to all this time is, of course, Nicole). When the sun finally sets and the pink sky begins to turn dark, we'll hop back in the car and head towards home, stopping first at...

--...Don Antonio's, because great Mexican food is the fare for all seasons. Aside from the sumptuous tacos, fajitas y margaritas, one of my favorite qualities about Don Antonio's is its festive atmosphere from the stalagmites of the cavern room to the white twinkle light, yellow-tile patio. I think my affinity for all things festive has been well documented by now. Dos tacos, por favor, una pollo y una carnitas. No flan tonight though, more pie awaits at home.

--The only thing better than spending time in a home overcome by seasonal scents is coming home to it, that first smell as you walk through the door. We're in for the night now. Cue the sweats. What to watch on TV tonight....hmmmm.....oh look at this, there is some sort of sporting event being televised. What are they calling it, basketball? And what is that team, the Los Angeles Lakers? Why are they giving them rings before the game begins? They are NBA Championship rings you say? This is good, let's stick with this program.

--Then, we'll watch "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Because it would not be the season without it.

Not a bad day, I think. And look at that, by entertaining my dreams for what the day could have been, I have killed off half of what it must be, getting ever closer to the whistle blow that portends all that it still might be. Time for lunch!

5 days everybody!

Angels 7, Yankees 6

We live to fight another day. I came into a free gorilla suit yesterday so I should have known my luck was looking up.

One step closer to the mustache. Two gargantuan steps to go still, but we're still alive. I think I had four heart attacks and two strokes last night while watching that game. We might need to force a Game 7 just to get on the right foot with Lackey. As it stands, last night's pull could seriously affect his decision on re-signing.

Just another little morsel on ridiculous sports fans' superstitions that occurred in the early innings of last night's game...Here's an IM conversation between me and Kissen:

Bottom 1st, Halos have runners on 2nd and 3rd, no outs, Torii Hunter at the plate

(Me) (5:13:52 PM): TORII COMES THROUGH!!! 2-0 HALOS!!!!

(Kissen) went away at 5:15:38 PM

Vladdy doubles, Kendry singles, Angels are on top 4-0 with no outs

(Kissen) returned at 5:17:48 PM
(Kissen) (5:18:40 PM): nice

(Kissen) (5:18:47 PM): I was on the can

(Me) (5:19:14 PM): guess what we might need you to go back there for the next few hours

(Kissen) (5:19:31 PM): I got a lap top with Wi Fi
(Kissen) (5:19:33 PM): shouldn't be a problem
(Kissen) (5:19:42 PM): let me see if I can cause a 2nd wave to hit

Maicer flies out, Juan Rivera grounds into an inning-ending double-play.

So in this case, it didn't seem to matter, but still, that's a true friend that's willing to go back to the bathroom stall for the sake of his friend's team.

Ah what the hell, I'm in.

Let's go, boys.

The Pledge

On ridiculous, meaningless, superstitious sports pledges...

A coworker was under the misunderstanding that my beard was a playoff beard, grown until the Angels either win the whole thing or get eliminated. I told her my beard had nothing to do with that, especially since I've been sportin' it since June. But then I got to thinking....

I pledged that if, by some miracle, the Angels manage to dig themselves out of this 3-1 hole and win this series, I would happily shave my beard as a sign of solidarity.

Then I was telling the boss about it this morning and he suggested I kick it up a notch and pledge to go with a mustache.

"If the Angels pull their heads out and come back to win, I will go mustache for the week of the World Series," I proclaimed.

He then went over the top on me and challenged me to commit to going with the 'stache for a full year if they should get to the World Series and win.

This is no small pledge. A year is a very long time to have a mustache. I remember last time I went to the porn 'stache, I was tickled by it for the first week. By the second week, the joke had worn off and people stopped laughing at me. At that point, they had just accepted that I looked like a sleezebag. Think of all the people you meet in a year. All those people would think the mustache was me. What about all the weddings, birthdays, etc. where you need to take real photos? What if I have to go on a job interview? Unless the position is with Vivid Entertainment, I think I could pretty much count on not getting that job. It's basically a choice to sacrifice my dignity for an entire year. That's something that could change a man. But wouldn't the joy of winning the World Series against such horrific odds fill me with an inner dignity and pride that could not be touched much less ruined by something as superficial as physical appearance, you ask? Maybe.

This is not something to rush into. A rash pledge of this sort is never wise, even when you know the chances of it actually qualifying make it a pretty safe one. I am going to stew on this until game time. I will post my decision here later.

Stay thirsty, my friends.

Just Tuesday

"True nature revealed true nature...

...The feeling went right down into her middle, and set loose something else, a spirit she'd never realized was there, much less locked up and trapped. And, they were still on the road, not even to the (grand) canyon yet! How would it feel when she could get out, walk ten paces and there would be the great space stretching miles and miles and miles? She couldn't imagine it. The profound opening of the earth. Great wonders all had powers to set free in you what wasn't free. Poets wrote about it. Only the dragging, grinding, minutiae of every day--cooking, driving, talking on the phone, explaining yourself to strangers and loved ones, selling houses, balancing checkbooks, stopping at the video store--all that made you forget what was possible in life.

Probably she'd faint. Certainly she would be speechless then cry. Conceivably she'd want to move out here right away, realize she'd been living her life wrong, and begin to fix it. That's why the people she sold houses to moved--to go where they could live better. They made up their minds--at least the ones who weren't forced into it by horrible luck--that they and not somebody else ran their lives."

An excerpt from "A Multitude of Sins" by, my favorite author, Richard Ford. I crossed this passage while waiting for an oil change today and I just wanted to share because I love this guy's writing so much.

P.S. Why do I not own a bow tie by now?

I only have one thing to say....

VEGAS!!!!!!

Uh oh.

I just realized I like Taylor Swift. Is this the beginning of the end?

Uh oh, squared.

I just realized I announced to the world that I like Taylor Swift practically on the eve of a bachelor party in Vegas with 17 other guys. I'm dead meat.