So as I previously mentioned Wed night I had a date planned with a girl. Yay for Furry. Turns out though the operative word in the first sentence is "planned". We had "planned" to get some pizza (from a great restaurant right near me), go for a walk, then watch a movie. We had "planned" this on Thursday. I emailed to confirm our "plans" on Sunday. I got confirmation of the "plans"....oh wait I didn't, which means the Furry also didn't have a date. In fact she never emailed back saying this isn't going to work etc, or any excuse, just didn't tell me anything. Yay. I have the best luck with women. If I was the Bachelor on ABC somehow each week instead of me selecting someone to get booted, one of the girls would get "mysteriously" hurt or ill until there were only two. The last two would then fight each other, not to be with me..no no, instead they would be fighting to see who could get off first. Miraculously for them though they would injure themselves so badly that neither would be left and instead I would have to eat the roses that were left over.
Anyways, later that night I went to bed...obviously. While sleeping though I was abruptly wakened by a liquid splashing on my face. It was 3:30AM. I was confused at first, not realizing what was happening. Then 2 minutes later it happened again. The sprinklers outside had cycled back around. Yes the sprinklers were spraying me through my window that was only open 6 inches, and through my closed blinds. Only the Furry. I normally wouldn't even have my window open, but they have delayed turning on the central air in the building, so I can't have my A/C running.
So let me recap, liquid being sprayed on me at night while in bed. Basically same story as Mona....only without the sex....and water instead of urine. God my life not only sucks but is boring too.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
For my 4 loyal readyers....
Don't worry I will be posting shortly. I haven't really had much to blog about, but I am thinking after tomorrow night I might have something. Knowing my luck though it will be nothing. Yes it involves a woman.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
10SNE1
That is a license plate one of my high school teachers told me about. Translation: "Tennis anyone?"
So I played a lot of tennis in high school, I mean a lot. I had to make up for the lost time, since I only began playing it in 8th grade. I did the whole lessons, tournaments, ladders, etc everything. My tennis pro was awesome. Gary, he looked exactly like the principal on Ferris Buhler's Day Off. Exactly. He always pushed me, but would take my smart ass mouth that I directed towards him. The only problem I had was I wasn't that competitive. I was one of Gary's best students, I just didn't care when I competed. This was evident in the tournaments I entered, where each time I lost in the first round...every time.
In high school I was a bit more competitive, especially in doubles. We won quite a few matches in doubles, a few less in singles. My coach though was absolutely worthless. He was fat, lazy, and never picked up a racket my whole career there. He was utterly worthless. But I made the best of it. My Freshman, Sophomore, and Junior year I made districts. One year at districts I was one win from state. Again I just couldn't win under pressure.
My senior year of high school I couldn't stand the coach anymore. I had been in several fights with him and thought enough was enough. Instead I asked the girls coach if I could be there manager. The girls coach was awesome, and I wanted to learn from him. He didn't know who I was, so first he I thought I was some perv, then learned who I was and made me an assistant coach instead. It was awesome. I learned a ton. I taught the girls. And I was called the "ass coach". What happened was I told a friend there was some nice ass on the team, so he started calling me the ass coach. One of our friends was on the team, and she heard him call me that. She assumed it was a shortening of assistant, so she told the whole team, and they started calling me the ass coach. Including the photo that is framed of the team and has on it, "To our #1 ass coach."
Also that year I went to Florida to tennis camp. I played next to Marcelo Rios, Jennifer Capriati, and Martina Hingis. It was great. Hingis even hit on me. Well not really, she did say hi to me, and I wasn't paying attention and just said, "hi" back not realizing the #1 lady in tennis just talked to me. What did suck there was the training. My pro "forgot" to tell me that it was rated UltraIntense by Tennis magazine. I hated him for it. As soon as I got back before I could say anything he was laughing at me. I was also the only public school kid there. There was one other private school kid, the rest were boarding school kids...I didn't even know those still existed.
In college my tennis career took a major hit. I tried out for the team, but could only give 60% at try-outs. Turns out the reason why was because I needed surgery on both my ankles. That made me give up tennis until now.
And now the reason for this post. I wanted to get back into tennis. I basically hadn't played in about 7 years. I played off and on in college, but never continuous and never against anyone my level. I decided to join a United States Tennis Association(USTA) league. The USTA rank people to determine what league to play in. The highest is 7.0, think Roger Federer or Andy Roddick. It goes down to like 2.0 someone who has never really played before. At my peak in high school I was probably a 5.0 (maybe a little higher). Now since I hadn't played in so long I didn't know what league to sign up for, so I signed up for a 3.0 league.
We have had 2 practices so far. I have dominated in both. I lost my first set the first practice, but after that I was awesome. It felt so good to swing the racket again. I wasn't sure how good I would do, or what I would remember. My serve has always been my best shot and in both practices I not only had aces, I also manage to leave welts on two different guys...they should have moved or swung their racket. I am assuming I will be moved up to 3.5 as soon as I start playing, which will probably be good.
The best feeling was today when a new guy came to our team. Most of the team is 40-50 year olds, but today a kid my age came to practice. He for some reason brought his girlfriend to sit in the car the full hour and just watch. I thought that was kind of weird, but she was a nice distraction because she was pretty hot. This was one of those kids who had a good serve, decent ground strokes, and thought he would dominate who ever he played. I think he brought his girlfriend to watch him do that, kind of show her how good he is. Well that didn't work, and if this was an 80's movie I would totally have taken the girl home with me. I destroyed him. No, that isn't strong enough, I guess humiliated him. I won the set 6-2. I was up 4-0 at one point. I guess if law school has taught me anything, it is how to be competitive and to finish off an opponent.
Game, Set, Match.
So I played a lot of tennis in high school, I mean a lot. I had to make up for the lost time, since I only began playing it in 8th grade. I did the whole lessons, tournaments, ladders, etc everything. My tennis pro was awesome. Gary, he looked exactly like the principal on Ferris Buhler's Day Off. Exactly. He always pushed me, but would take my smart ass mouth that I directed towards him. The only problem I had was I wasn't that competitive. I was one of Gary's best students, I just didn't care when I competed. This was evident in the tournaments I entered, where each time I lost in the first round...every time.
In high school I was a bit more competitive, especially in doubles. We won quite a few matches in doubles, a few less in singles. My coach though was absolutely worthless. He was fat, lazy, and never picked up a racket my whole career there. He was utterly worthless. But I made the best of it. My Freshman, Sophomore, and Junior year I made districts. One year at districts I was one win from state. Again I just couldn't win under pressure.
My senior year of high school I couldn't stand the coach anymore. I had been in several fights with him and thought enough was enough. Instead I asked the girls coach if I could be there manager. The girls coach was awesome, and I wanted to learn from him. He didn't know who I was, so first he I thought I was some perv, then learned who I was and made me an assistant coach instead. It was awesome. I learned a ton. I taught the girls. And I was called the "ass coach". What happened was I told a friend there was some nice ass on the team, so he started calling me the ass coach. One of our friends was on the team, and she heard him call me that. She assumed it was a shortening of assistant, so she told the whole team, and they started calling me the ass coach. Including the photo that is framed of the team and has on it, "To our #1 ass coach."
Also that year I went to Florida to tennis camp. I played next to Marcelo Rios, Jennifer Capriati, and Martina Hingis. It was great. Hingis even hit on me. Well not really, she did say hi to me, and I wasn't paying attention and just said, "hi" back not realizing the #1 lady in tennis just talked to me. What did suck there was the training. My pro "forgot" to tell me that it was rated UltraIntense by Tennis magazine. I hated him for it. As soon as I got back before I could say anything he was laughing at me. I was also the only public school kid there. There was one other private school kid, the rest were boarding school kids...I didn't even know those still existed.
In college my tennis career took a major hit. I tried out for the team, but could only give 60% at try-outs. Turns out the reason why was because I needed surgery on both my ankles. That made me give up tennis until now.
And now the reason for this post. I wanted to get back into tennis. I basically hadn't played in about 7 years. I played off and on in college, but never continuous and never against anyone my level. I decided to join a United States Tennis Association(USTA) league. The USTA rank people to determine what league to play in. The highest is 7.0, think Roger Federer or Andy Roddick. It goes down to like 2.0 someone who has never really played before. At my peak in high school I was probably a 5.0 (maybe a little higher). Now since I hadn't played in so long I didn't know what league to sign up for, so I signed up for a 3.0 league.
We have had 2 practices so far. I have dominated in both. I lost my first set the first practice, but after that I was awesome. It felt so good to swing the racket again. I wasn't sure how good I would do, or what I would remember. My serve has always been my best shot and in both practices I not only had aces, I also manage to leave welts on two different guys...they should have moved or swung their racket. I am assuming I will be moved up to 3.5 as soon as I start playing, which will probably be good.
The best feeling was today when a new guy came to our team. Most of the team is 40-50 year olds, but today a kid my age came to practice. He for some reason brought his girlfriend to sit in the car the full hour and just watch. I thought that was kind of weird, but she was a nice distraction because she was pretty hot. This was one of those kids who had a good serve, decent ground strokes, and thought he would dominate who ever he played. I think he brought his girlfriend to watch him do that, kind of show her how good he is. Well that didn't work, and if this was an 80's movie I would totally have taken the girl home with me. I destroyed him. No, that isn't strong enough, I guess humiliated him. I won the set 6-2. I was up 4-0 at one point. I guess if law school has taught me anything, it is how to be competitive and to finish off an opponent.
Game, Set, Match.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Furry needs help making a decision...want to help?
So I will be graduating soon, which means Furry needs to find a job. Two of the possibilities include 3 month stints in Europe. One in Belgium another in Paris. So here is where the Furry needs help. Assuming I get an invite to one if not both of these positions do I take it?
NEGATIVES:
Gone for 3 months from family (including my nephew who is my favorite even though I am not supposed to have favorites)
Miss a good chunk of the football season
Have to put my stuff in storage
No health insurance
And most importantly.....not sure how to pay back student loans (if I never return though I won't have to...)
POSITIVES:
Real work experience in Europe, great for the resume
I am in FRIGGIN Europe maybe even FRANCE
Get to put my otherwise useless major to use
Great food
Losing probably close to 40lbs
Even better wine...and alcohol, seriously is there anything better than a bottle of caramel vodka (yes bottle)
Oh yeah and the women....I just had this really hot chick (yes Arbusto the really really hot one) email me back and beg for me to return even if it is for a "week, day, hour, or minute" end quote, she also then went on to explain she is putting her vibrator that we bought together to good and frequent use (why can't I find women like that here?)
What does the Furry do? I know most will say Europe, but those student loan payments/ and health insurance negatives are huge negatives.
NEGATIVES:
Gone for 3 months from family (including my nephew who is my favorite even though I am not supposed to have favorites)
Miss a good chunk of the football season
Have to put my stuff in storage
No health insurance
And most importantly.....not sure how to pay back student loans (if I never return though I won't have to...)
POSITIVES:
Real work experience in Europe, great for the resume
I am in FRIGGIN Europe maybe even FRANCE
Get to put my otherwise useless major to use
Great food
Losing probably close to 40lbs
Even better wine...and alcohol, seriously is there anything better than a bottle of caramel vodka (yes bottle)
Oh yeah and the women....I just had this really hot chick (yes Arbusto the really really hot one) email me back and beg for me to return even if it is for a "week, day, hour, or minute" end quote, she also then went on to explain she is putting her vibrator that we bought together to good and frequent use (why can't I find women like that here?)
What does the Furry do? I know most will say Europe, but those student loan payments/ and health insurance negatives are huge negatives.
Monday, April 16, 2007
My 1 inning date with Arbusto
So last Friday was horrible.
It was supposed to be nice. First let me explain, I am in a group of guys who have season tickets to the Twins. We get an allotment of games depending on how much we paid. The problem is though we got the tickets the day before the season started, there are 12 of us, and we can never get together to meet to pick dates for tickets. So right now we have this god awful system where we pick by email, send it on to the next person, he picks, etc. Rinse, repeat and start all over again. Well we are a few weeks into the season and we still haven't finished picking tickets. This means the guy who is in charge has all of the tickets and cannot distribute all of the tickets until he finds out who is going to what game. So what do you do with the games that are happening now? Good question and that is where the cluster fuck-up happens. He gives them to you either day of the game or day before the game.
Flash-forward now to Friday. I had tickets to the Twinkies vs TB Devil Rays. Santana vs Kazmir, a great pitching match-up and Morneau was getting his MVP from last year. A great game. Well I had signed up for one of the pairs (we have 4 seats total but divvy up the tickets by pairs) and no one else had claimed the other pair. I get a call from the ticket distributor to go pick up the tickets from his brother.
His brother is a bartender at a fairly busy bar in St. Paul, and oh yeah I had no idea who is brother was or what he looked like. So in my suave James Bond character mode I went into the restaurant, stepped up to the bar, and surveyed the scene. I saw the guy who had to be his brother and the conversation went down exactly like this:
Me: Are you Craig's....
Him: Yes. Tickets?
Me: Yes
Him: (slides over a manila envelope to me)
I felt like I had an assignment to kill someone contained in the envelope. Instead it contained 4 tickets. Yep 4 not two. I was confused. I had only asked for 2, but I thought he must have not have been able to find someone else for the other pair so he gave them to me. I logically came to this conclusion because in all of the emails no one had signed up for that pair, and the game before he had to give away a pair of tickets because no one wanted them or could go. So I assumed they were mine. To double check this assumption I called the all mighty ticket distributor. I got his voice mail and told him to call me back immediately.
Then Arbusto showed up and it was time to go to the game. By this time I had waited 15 minutes and had not received a call. (I used my home phone and not my cell because I don't like to give my cell out. This will come evident why soon.) Arbusto invited one of his friends Utah, so I had one extra ticket. When we got to the game I scalped the ticket.
Arbusto waited outside for Utah, and I went in because the game was starting. I had a great conversation with the guy who had bought the scalped ticket and found out the scalper made a nice profit. Arbusto then enters with Utah, and we all settle in to watch the game.
First inning finishes. Then I hear from the aisle, "Hey Furry what the hell? Where the hell is my pair of tickets?" It is someone who I know is part of this whole season ticket deal, and I have no idea what the hell he is talking about. I get up and walk to the aisle so this guy does not keep shouting and because he is making quite the scene. Let me describe this guy: short, way oeverweight, beard/scruff, mid 30's, thinks he knows baseball but doesn't, and had his 4 year old daughter with him.
As soon as I get into the aisle he bombards me with insults and questions as to where his tickets are. I explain I had no clue he was going to the game. He then says, "What the fuck you don't check your messages? What asshole doesn't check their messages? How stupid are you?" All while his daughter is standing right next to him. I tell him I would be more than willing to exchange the tickets he had bought for my seats. Since I very well couldn't make the guy who bought the scalped ticket, nor Arbusto's friend who drove 30-40 miles to get there, leave. I said Arbusto and I would give up our seats. He then informs me he was let in by security and does not have tickets. He continues to insult me.
At this point I see this is only going to get worse if I do anything else. I give him Arbusto's and my seat. We leave.
I get home and listen to my voice mails. He left me 3. Including the last one, which only said, "How stupid are you?" I then called the ticket distributor guy and told him the situation. I said it was a huge fuck up, let's not let it happen again, and that I did not appreciate Fuck Nut insulting me and leaving harassing messages.
Saturday I get home after helping my brother with a morning hot air balloon flight, and low and behold Fuck Nut has left another message here is what it said:
"I want to give you the opportunity to say what you want to say to me and quit harassing Craig with all the childish kind of crap. If you have something to say to me then call me. Don't go calling to Craig he isn't your Daddy is he or something, or I don't know is he your Mom? Why don't you just call me and tell me what you need to tell me, alright big guy."
Those are the exact words. First off this guy is one big Fuck Nut. Secondly YES IT IS CRAIGS PROBLEM, he is the one with the tickets, he is the one who gave me 4 and didn't explain it, he is the one who hasn't finished the draft before the season started.
Afterwards on Saturday I googled this guy to see what he does for a living. I did not find that, instead I found a court case for him being arrested for drag racing.
Yeah my weekend sucked. It sucked even worse when my grandma, mom, nephew (3 years old), and cousin (5 years old) went to the Twins game only to find Craig forgot to leave them their tickets.
P.S. Sorry SouthernCanadian for not calling back, and no I really wasn't mad at you, in fact good thing you didn't go to the game with us.
P.P.S. Furry may actually have a real date, sorry Arbusto you are too loose for me. I am sure I will have more Furry happenings to report about, God knows I can't have a normal date, even if it is a joke and with Arbusto.
It was supposed to be nice. First let me explain, I am in a group of guys who have season tickets to the Twins. We get an allotment of games depending on how much we paid. The problem is though we got the tickets the day before the season started, there are 12 of us, and we can never get together to meet to pick dates for tickets. So right now we have this god awful system where we pick by email, send it on to the next person, he picks, etc. Rinse, repeat and start all over again. Well we are a few weeks into the season and we still haven't finished picking tickets. This means the guy who is in charge has all of the tickets and cannot distribute all of the tickets until he finds out who is going to what game. So what do you do with the games that are happening now? Good question and that is where the cluster fuck-up happens. He gives them to you either day of the game or day before the game.
Flash-forward now to Friday. I had tickets to the Twinkies vs TB Devil Rays. Santana vs Kazmir, a great pitching match-up and Morneau was getting his MVP from last year. A great game. Well I had signed up for one of the pairs (we have 4 seats total but divvy up the tickets by pairs) and no one else had claimed the other pair. I get a call from the ticket distributor to go pick up the tickets from his brother.
His brother is a bartender at a fairly busy bar in St. Paul, and oh yeah I had no idea who is brother was or what he looked like. So in my suave James Bond character mode I went into the restaurant, stepped up to the bar, and surveyed the scene. I saw the guy who had to be his brother and the conversation went down exactly like this:
Me: Are you Craig's....
Him: Yes. Tickets?
Me: Yes
Him: (slides over a manila envelope to me)
I felt like I had an assignment to kill someone contained in the envelope. Instead it contained 4 tickets. Yep 4 not two. I was confused. I had only asked for 2, but I thought he must have not have been able to find someone else for the other pair so he gave them to me. I logically came to this conclusion because in all of the emails no one had signed up for that pair, and the game before he had to give away a pair of tickets because no one wanted them or could go. So I assumed they were mine. To double check this assumption I called the all mighty ticket distributor. I got his voice mail and told him to call me back immediately.
Then Arbusto showed up and it was time to go to the game. By this time I had waited 15 minutes and had not received a call. (I used my home phone and not my cell because I don't like to give my cell out. This will come evident why soon.) Arbusto invited one of his friends Utah, so I had one extra ticket. When we got to the game I scalped the ticket.
Arbusto waited outside for Utah, and I went in because the game was starting. I had a great conversation with the guy who had bought the scalped ticket and found out the scalper made a nice profit. Arbusto then enters with Utah, and we all settle in to watch the game.
First inning finishes. Then I hear from the aisle, "Hey Furry what the hell? Where the hell is my pair of tickets?" It is someone who I know is part of this whole season ticket deal, and I have no idea what the hell he is talking about. I get up and walk to the aisle so this guy does not keep shouting and because he is making quite the scene. Let me describe this guy: short, way oeverweight, beard/scruff, mid 30's, thinks he knows baseball but doesn't, and had his 4 year old daughter with him.
As soon as I get into the aisle he bombards me with insults and questions as to where his tickets are. I explain I had no clue he was going to the game. He then says, "What the fuck you don't check your messages? What asshole doesn't check their messages? How stupid are you?" All while his daughter is standing right next to him. I tell him I would be more than willing to exchange the tickets he had bought for my seats. Since I very well couldn't make the guy who bought the scalped ticket, nor Arbusto's friend who drove 30-40 miles to get there, leave. I said Arbusto and I would give up our seats. He then informs me he was let in by security and does not have tickets. He continues to insult me.
At this point I see this is only going to get worse if I do anything else. I give him Arbusto's and my seat. We leave.
I get home and listen to my voice mails. He left me 3. Including the last one, which only said, "How stupid are you?" I then called the ticket distributor guy and told him the situation. I said it was a huge fuck up, let's not let it happen again, and that I did not appreciate Fuck Nut insulting me and leaving harassing messages.
Saturday I get home after helping my brother with a morning hot air balloon flight, and low and behold Fuck Nut has left another message here is what it said:
"I want to give you the opportunity to say what you want to say to me and quit harassing Craig with all the childish kind of crap. If you have something to say to me then call me. Don't go calling to Craig he isn't your Daddy is he or something, or I don't know is he your Mom? Why don't you just call me and tell me what you need to tell me, alright big guy."
Those are the exact words. First off this guy is one big Fuck Nut. Secondly YES IT IS CRAIGS PROBLEM, he is the one with the tickets, he is the one who gave me 4 and didn't explain it, he is the one who hasn't finished the draft before the season started.
Afterwards on Saturday I googled this guy to see what he does for a living. I did not find that, instead I found a court case for him being arrested for drag racing.
Yeah my weekend sucked. It sucked even worse when my grandma, mom, nephew (3 years old), and cousin (5 years old) went to the Twins game only to find Craig forgot to leave them their tickets.
P.S. Sorry SouthernCanadian for not calling back, and no I really wasn't mad at you, in fact good thing you didn't go to the game with us.
P.P.S. Furry may actually have a real date, sorry Arbusto you are too loose for me. I am sure I will have more Furry happenings to report about, God knows I can't have a normal date, even if it is a joke and with Arbusto.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
HATE: Charity Organization
So I could pick an easy choice here and pick one of those annoying police "charities" that call during the holiday times, or I could pick one of those African child starving as they bathe in toxic waste and eat maggots out of rotting tires that you only see on at 1AM on a weekday.
No, no that is not how Furry rolls. Rather Furry likes to pick a charity that everyone can hate...so the Furry chooses (drumroll please) the Red Cross/Crescent/Whatever the hell you call it. Seriously why do I give money to a charity that cannot make up its mind what it wants to do. What does the Red Cross do as a charity does it give blood to drug-addict gunshot victims, does it help people who choose to live in a flood plain with a faulty levee, does it walk into prisoner of war camps to make sure the "rules" of war are obeyed, or do they give shelter to people who burn down their own apartments? Seriously people make up your mind. At least the Salvation Army knows its place and does not infringe on everything. I mean sure you have to put up with annoying undressed Santas outside the store where you buying expensive gifts for your loved ones that really need these gifts.
What really irks me about the Red Cross is they are able to enter Gitmo under the premise that they are upholding the Geneva Conventions, but don't we all know anyone named the Red Crescent is really subverting the government and supplying information and supplies to all of those terrorists that harmed the US by......well we don't know how because they haven't had their trial, but we will know in 15 years when their trial takes place.
I wouldn't mind the Red Cross so much if they didn't help out disaster victims. Don't you think God had the disaster for a reason? You wonder why God isn't smiting anyone, its becaus the Red Cross is ruining his beautiful work. Hurricane Katrina...ruined by the Red Cross, Earthquakes...ruined, city fires....ruined, tornadoes...ruined, Tsunamis.....ruined. LET GOD DO HIS WORK.
So what is this coherent, logical argument ultimately trying to say? The Red Cross is actually trying to destroy the world by keeping the human population at its all time high. So remember the next time they ask you to write your Congressmen about atrocities and torture at prisons in war zones say, "Not me, I am a Patriot." The next time there is a natural disaster say, "No donations from me, I am doing God's work." And finally and most importantly, the next time they ask you to give blood say, "No you cannot have my precious blood, I am trying to save the world."
If you do feel so compelled to give to a charity though try Amanda the Panda. Trust me.
No, no that is not how Furry rolls. Rather Furry likes to pick a charity that everyone can hate...so the Furry chooses (drumroll please) the Red Cross/Crescent/Whatever the hell you call it. Seriously why do I give money to a charity that cannot make up its mind what it wants to do. What does the Red Cross do as a charity does it give blood to drug-addict gunshot victims, does it help people who choose to live in a flood plain with a faulty levee, does it walk into prisoner of war camps to make sure the "rules" of war are obeyed, or do they give shelter to people who burn down their own apartments? Seriously people make up your mind. At least the Salvation Army knows its place and does not infringe on everything. I mean sure you have to put up with annoying undressed Santas outside the store where you buying expensive gifts for your loved ones that really need these gifts.
What really irks me about the Red Cross is they are able to enter Gitmo under the premise that they are upholding the Geneva Conventions, but don't we all know anyone named the Red Crescent is really subverting the government and supplying information and supplies to all of those terrorists that harmed the US by......well we don't know how because they haven't had their trial, but we will know in 15 years when their trial takes place.
I wouldn't mind the Red Cross so much if they didn't help out disaster victims. Don't you think God had the disaster for a reason? You wonder why God isn't smiting anyone, its becaus the Red Cross is ruining his beautiful work. Hurricane Katrina...ruined by the Red Cross, Earthquakes...ruined, city fires....ruined, tornadoes...ruined, Tsunamis.....ruined. LET GOD DO HIS WORK.
So what is this coherent, logical argument ultimately trying to say? The Red Cross is actually trying to destroy the world by keeping the human population at its all time high. So remember the next time they ask you to write your Congressmen about atrocities and torture at prisons in war zones say, "Not me, I am a Patriot." The next time there is a natural disaster say, "No donations from me, I am doing God's work." And finally and most importantly, the next time they ask you to give blood say, "No you cannot have my precious blood, I am trying to save the world."
If you do feel so compelled to give to a charity though try Amanda the Panda. Trust me.
Monday, April 02, 2007
8th Circuit Court throws out the Furry
So the 8th Circuit US Appellate Court had oral arguments at my law school today. No I didn't get thrown out by the massive US Marshall guarding the door, but I thought I was going to be. See I wasn't thinking about dressing for court this morning. It felt like a normal day at classes, so I wore the normal attire khaki shorts and some sort of shirt. If you don't know shorts are a no-no in court. So I realize this as I get to school. What to do?
I decided to test the waters and see who was entering the room. It wasn't looking good seeing other students all suited up with a tie. I thought well I gave it a shot. Then I saw some with jeans enter in. I decided then to test it out. I neared the door where the huge muscular Marshall was standing and began to enter. He stops me and says, "Excuse me sir....no book bags in the courtroom." Oh okay, I drop off the bag and try the re-entry. I finally enter and take my seat in the back so that the Justices cannot see me. Just in case.
Fast-forward to five minutes before the Justices enter the room, and the same Marshall approaches near me. I began to sweat a little. Turns out the person in front of me had some coffee and no liquids were allowed. Dodged another bullet.
The rest of the time I sat and tried not to draw attention to myself. That was one of the most uncomfortable 2 hours I have endured. At least I didn't look like the idiot in front of me who had on a blue blazer that had some sort of large cheap insignia over the left breast pocket area. Not only did it look cheap, but he had the collar completely up, so basically he looked like a man in his 60s, trying to get on a private yacht, even though he is homeless. He still looked better than me.
How did this day in court end? Oh yeah, the second to last case two gentlemen sat directly next to me. One was clearly a lawyer, the other clearly not a lawyer. I look at the schedule and the only case left deals with a felon who is guilty of several burglaries, including stealing a shot gun. Sure enough when the last case starts, the lawyer takes his position in front of the podium, leaving his client the armed felon sitting next to me. Since, I was taking notes on the lawyers I made sure to only right good things regarding his attorney. With a felon sitting next to me, and a Marshall who I thought had it out for me, I wasn't taking any chances.
I decided to test the waters and see who was entering the room. It wasn't looking good seeing other students all suited up with a tie. I thought well I gave it a shot. Then I saw some with jeans enter in. I decided then to test it out. I neared the door where the huge muscular Marshall was standing and began to enter. He stops me and says, "Excuse me sir....no book bags in the courtroom." Oh okay, I drop off the bag and try the re-entry. I finally enter and take my seat in the back so that the Justices cannot see me. Just in case.
Fast-forward to five minutes before the Justices enter the room, and the same Marshall approaches near me. I began to sweat a little. Turns out the person in front of me had some coffee and no liquids were allowed. Dodged another bullet.
The rest of the time I sat and tried not to draw attention to myself. That was one of the most uncomfortable 2 hours I have endured. At least I didn't look like the idiot in front of me who had on a blue blazer that had some sort of large cheap insignia over the left breast pocket area. Not only did it look cheap, but he had the collar completely up, so basically he looked like a man in his 60s, trying to get on a private yacht, even though he is homeless. He still looked better than me.
How did this day in court end? Oh yeah, the second to last case two gentlemen sat directly next to me. One was clearly a lawyer, the other clearly not a lawyer. I look at the schedule and the only case left deals with a felon who is guilty of several burglaries, including stealing a shot gun. Sure enough when the last case starts, the lawyer takes his position in front of the podium, leaving his client the armed felon sitting next to me. Since, I was taking notes on the lawyers I made sure to only right good things regarding his attorney. With a felon sitting next to me, and a Marshall who I thought had it out for me, I wasn't taking any chances.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
HATE: Wildcard.....Musicals
I cannot stand musicals, you name it, I hate it. Cats: hate, Rent: hate, West Side Story: hate, South Pacific: hate, Grease: hate, Guys and Dolls: hate, Les Mis: hate, [Insert any other musical title]: hate.
In fact there are maybe two I don't hate, but I cannot say with certainty because I have not seem them: Monty Python's Holy Grail and Mel Brooks' The Producers. Mainly because they are so funny and were originally movies it would take an idiot to wreck them. But believe Broadway could find a away and easily.
See my irrational hatred for musicals stems from my minute ability to act. In high school I was in several plays (lead roles), voted best actor out of 2,000 people, and even received a $15,000 scholarship to act at the college I first attended. So sure I wasn't much of an actor but kind of knew what was going on. That coupled with my love for the movies allows me to think (even if it isn't true) that I can tell what is good acting (Gwyneth Paltrow) and what is bad acting (Ben Affleck).
So this brings me back to musicals--THEY ARE FILLED WITH BAD ACTORS. Usually what happens is the singing voice is picked over their ability to act. Thus causing the musical to be complete crap because now you have singers trying to act. This upsets beyond nothing else. How can you have something on stage where there is a story being told, and have no actors on that stage? It is ridiculous. I singled out The Producers and Monty Python because in their original casting they actually had actors rather than singers playing the parts. Sure the singing may not be the greatest but what detracts more from the story a person who you can't follow or believe because their acting is so bad, or someone who might be off pitch or key occasionally? I thought so.
I think there should be a boycott on any musical or play putting singing voice above acting ability when casting. That being said in one of my insomnia filled nights I looked up an old classmate from high school who I haven't heard from ever. He is apparently pretty big in the Dallas musical/opera scene. I would go to his musical, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't HATE it.
In fact there are maybe two I don't hate, but I cannot say with certainty because I have not seem them: Monty Python's Holy Grail and Mel Brooks' The Producers. Mainly because they are so funny and were originally movies it would take an idiot to wreck them. But believe Broadway could find a away and easily.
See my irrational hatred for musicals stems from my minute ability to act. In high school I was in several plays (lead roles), voted best actor out of 2,000 people, and even received a $15,000 scholarship to act at the college I first attended. So sure I wasn't much of an actor but kind of knew what was going on. That coupled with my love for the movies allows me to think (even if it isn't true) that I can tell what is good acting (Gwyneth Paltrow) and what is bad acting (Ben Affleck).
So this brings me back to musicals--THEY ARE FILLED WITH BAD ACTORS. Usually what happens is the singing voice is picked over their ability to act. Thus causing the musical to be complete crap because now you have singers trying to act. This upsets beyond nothing else. How can you have something on stage where there is a story being told, and have no actors on that stage? It is ridiculous. I singled out The Producers and Monty Python because in their original casting they actually had actors rather than singers playing the parts. Sure the singing may not be the greatest but what detracts more from the story a person who you can't follow or believe because their acting is so bad, or someone who might be off pitch or key occasionally? I thought so.
I think there should be a boycott on any musical or play putting singing voice above acting ability when casting. That being said in one of my insomnia filled nights I looked up an old classmate from high school who I haven't heard from ever. He is apparently pretty big in the Dallas musical/opera scene. I would go to his musical, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't HATE it.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
What are the Twin Cities coming to?
So the other day I was driving to get some lunch during break from class. I noticed something smoldering in the road. I just assumed it was a cigarette someone had thrown out (which I hate when people do that, but I digress.) As I drove through it, I realized it was not a cigarette. I turned to B sitting next to me in the car and said, "That wasn't a cigarette was it?" He responded with, "Definitely wasn't." Instead it was as Gregory Hines called it Roman Red, Wacky Weed, or Mighty Joint.
So, so what there was a joint in the middle of an extremely busy road, across from a police station, wafting it's fumes to nearby passers. The best of the weekend was Sunday at McDonalds in a suburb just north of St. Paul. Again during lunch break of classes another friend and I went to a nearby McDos. While eating away my friend pointed out one of the greatest things I have ever seen at a McDos. A man pulled up in a very large probably late 80s Lincoln. He stepped out with a large leather coat the length of a trench coat, boots, and sunglasses. But what really topped off Smokey's outfit (that is what the employees at McDos knew him as, yes they knew him) was the large brown fedora with a feather sticking out of it and the accompanying cane with his outfit. Yes, I think we can all clearly say Smokey was a pimp. And he was looking pimpalicious.
Sadly I could not find any photos of a pimp on google that would do this guy justice.
So, so what there was a joint in the middle of an extremely busy road, across from a police station, wafting it's fumes to nearby passers. The best of the weekend was Sunday at McDonalds in a suburb just north of St. Paul. Again during lunch break of classes another friend and I went to a nearby McDos. While eating away my friend pointed out one of the greatest things I have ever seen at a McDos. A man pulled up in a very large probably late 80s Lincoln. He stepped out with a large leather coat the length of a trench coat, boots, and sunglasses. But what really topped off Smokey's outfit (that is what the employees at McDos knew him as, yes they knew him) was the large brown fedora with a feather sticking out of it and the accompanying cane with his outfit. Yes, I think we can all clearly say Smokey was a pimp. And he was looking pimpalicious.
Sadly I could not find any photos of a pimp on google that would do this guy justice.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
HATE: NCAA March Madness Nicknames
Everyone loves March Madness, a bunch of kids playing basketball for free while millions of people spend millions of dollars betting on who screws up the least. Along with March Madness come the crazy announcers shouting god knows what as the seconds tick away and Lebron Jordan shoots a buzzer beater that clangs out of the rim and they lose.
So what can be better than that?
How about the 64 teams nicknames. This year the field has such classics as Long Beach State "Beaches", Southern Illinois "Salukies" (I actually like the sound of that), Oregon "Ducks", Texas A&M CC "Islanders", Tennessee "Volunteers", and the list goes on. Be careful not to upset the Ducks on the Beach of the Islanders as the Salukie chases those damn Volunteers. That just scares the bejesus out of me.
But all of these pail in comparison to the very nickname synonymous with horror, one that strikes fear into any man or woman who even mumbles the name, one whose name causes your ears to bleed if the very name is even mentioned.....
The Penn "Quakers" Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Okay first off we are talking about an Ivy League school. Can they not think of anything better than Quakers? Are they not smarter than that? Or is it because it deals with sports they automatically suck at it? I mean this is the alma mater of Warren Buffet and Donald Trump. Yes I will say it, whoever came up with the "Quaker" nickname, "You're fired!"
So I know all nicknames are not threatening but unless a school called themselves the Mother Theresas, the Ghandis, or the jumping jesuses (how do you make Jesus plural) you could not have picked more pacifying name. Everyone knows Quakers "turn the other cheek". I hope to God that Penn does not have a hockey team. That would just be devastating.
Now I can make fun of them because growing up I went to "meetings". Yes that is Quaker service or in today's terms Society of Friends (apparently Quaker is too old fashion). My Dad is a Quaker. My mom ELCA Lutheran. That meant I spent one week at boring old Lutheran service as my Grandma and I pointed and laughed at people who danced to the music or clapped their hands as the "spirit swayed them", and the next week at meeting.
I was young when going to meetings so let me tell you what I remember about them. We would go to a normal looking house type building with about 20 people there. I would grab a magazine, usually a Zoobook (I loved those) and everyone would sit in a circle. Everyone but me, who was intently reading how fast a Cheetah can run, would be silent and staring at nothing for about 20 minutes. Then out of the blue someone would stand up and say something that either concerned them or that they read in the news. At this point I had moved on to how bats can "see" in pitch black caves. Then after another 10 minutes or so of more silence or someone occasionally saying that they were saddened by the plight of the migrant farmers in Pushatanwali, we would break for cookies, cheese, crackers, and coffee. I would go to some lame Sunday School where we learned how the Quakers were persecuted by the English so they came to the US. Then on the way home we would listen to Casey Kasem's top 40. All in all Quaker service completely ruled Lutheran service. I have never learned so much about animals as I did in meeting. As it turns out I know understand why they were silent, they were meditating, hopefully my page turning didn't upset them.
So remember the Quakers didn't lose to the Aggies (the real Texas A&M in the tournament), they turned the other cheek.
And I know I still have night terrors of hearing Jim Nantz yell, "Here come the Quakers running down the court!"
So what can be better than that?
How about the 64 teams nicknames. This year the field has such classics as Long Beach State "Beaches", Southern Illinois "Salukies" (I actually like the sound of that), Oregon "Ducks", Texas A&M CC "Islanders", Tennessee "Volunteers", and the list goes on. Be careful not to upset the Ducks on the Beach of the Islanders as the Salukie chases those damn Volunteers. That just scares the bejesus out of me.
But all of these pail in comparison to the very nickname synonymous with horror, one that strikes fear into any man or woman who even mumbles the name, one whose name causes your ears to bleed if the very name is even mentioned.....
The Penn "Quakers" Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Okay first off we are talking about an Ivy League school. Can they not think of anything better than Quakers? Are they not smarter than that? Or is it because it deals with sports they automatically suck at it? I mean this is the alma mater of Warren Buffet and Donald Trump. Yes I will say it, whoever came up with the "Quaker" nickname, "You're fired!"
So I know all nicknames are not threatening but unless a school called themselves the Mother Theresas, the Ghandis, or the jumping jesuses (how do you make Jesus plural) you could not have picked more pacifying name. Everyone knows Quakers "turn the other cheek". I hope to God that Penn does not have a hockey team. That would just be devastating.
Now I can make fun of them because growing up I went to "meetings". Yes that is Quaker service or in today's terms Society of Friends (apparently Quaker is too old fashion). My Dad is a Quaker. My mom ELCA Lutheran. That meant I spent one week at boring old Lutheran service as my Grandma and I pointed and laughed at people who danced to the music or clapped their hands as the "spirit swayed them", and the next week at meeting.
I was young when going to meetings so let me tell you what I remember about them. We would go to a normal looking house type building with about 20 people there. I would grab a magazine, usually a Zoobook (I loved those) and everyone would sit in a circle. Everyone but me, who was intently reading how fast a Cheetah can run, would be silent and staring at nothing for about 20 minutes. Then out of the blue someone would stand up and say something that either concerned them or that they read in the news. At this point I had moved on to how bats can "see" in pitch black caves. Then after another 10 minutes or so of more silence or someone occasionally saying that they were saddened by the plight of the migrant farmers in Pushatanwali, we would break for cookies, cheese, crackers, and coffee. I would go to some lame Sunday School where we learned how the Quakers were persecuted by the English so they came to the US. Then on the way home we would listen to Casey Kasem's top 40. All in all Quaker service completely ruled Lutheran service. I have never learned so much about animals as I did in meeting. As it turns out I know understand why they were silent, they were meditating, hopefully my page turning didn't upset them.
So remember the Quakers didn't lose to the Aggies (the real Texas A&M in the tournament), they turned the other cheek.
And I know I still have night terrors of hearing Jim Nantz yell, "Here come the Quakers running down the court!"
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