So hey, kids, how are you all anyway? Indeed, it's been a whole Goddamn long time since I posted anything of substance other than Awesomecasts on this stupid little blogsitething and, if you do a wee bit of research, you'll find that's just about how every one of my non-podcast posts have started for like...The last year. Or so. Yeah. I'm quite lame. No shock there. We've covered it. Let's move on.

Likely No Awesomecast This Week...
What with all manner of things to do leading up to the Christmas holiday, I'm just going to have to pass on recording a new episode this week. After all, as Collin said earlier today when we were talking about whether or not to record tonight, "it's your show," which is not entirely accurate but whatever. Anyway, I'm going to get around to making sense eventually, but for now, well. yeah. So no show this week, the towel is safe for another week at least and I can't verbally offend anyone by slighting their religion, sports team or other icon which they seem to hold dear. I'll get back to all that craps later on...

And Speaking of Christmas (Because We So Were)...
We're hosting Christmas this year at our house for the first time. We hosted Thanksgiving a couple of years ago and, if memory serves, it was a pretty packed house. We've got a lot of things to get done before people arrive (specifically, my mother-in-law is coming in from Florida and Shannon and Al are flying in from Las vegas) up to and including finishing decorations around the house, cleaning up various rooms and completing daunting tasks such as laundry which I've been inexplicably putting off for a week or two. I also have to go shopping specifically for the groceries to finish the holiday menu as well as for a handful of ancillary gifts. People are driving like complete retards around here and every store is packed to capacity (something that I'm sure is not exclusive to my part of the country) which is making these normally routine tasks seem arduous and draining. I can't even think of any way to make fun of it, it just plain sucks at times...

The Bird Is In The Air...
...and lands tomorrow. Or today, depending upon when you're reading this post. Anyhow, the bird (or birds, actually) I speak of just happens to be the legendary turducken, an unholy marriage of chicken, duck and turkey, smaller bird crammed into the cavity of the other and stuffed with wonderful creole-style stuffing. I learned of the magical turducken some years ago and vowed that someday I'd make one of the damn things appear at a holiday meal. This year, since I had already made mention of the triple threat to some key attendees, I checked into all of the available turducken avenues (up to and including deboning and assembling the birds myself) and finally settled on purchasing the thing from CajunGrocer.com, likely the place which knows more about them than anywhere else. As I mentioned earlier, the bird in it's protctive cryopack should arrive on Wednesday to the collective delight of myself and most of the people who will be joining us for Christmas Eve dinner. Collin mentioned to his giant son that we're having turducken and he proclaimed it to be an "atrocity." My response: more for me.

I'm Thinking About Cramming More Animals Inside Animals...
To supplement the turducken, I'm thinking about procuring a cornish game hen, quail and whole rabbit from a local meat market and constructing a RabUailEn. I'm salivating just thinking about it. Mmmmmm....

Ever Tried To Break In New Goalie Pads?..
Not likely, but it's possible. I recently purchased myself a new pair of Simmons 993 SuperFlex leg pads to replace my 8-year old pair of Boddam Air Elites. When I picked up the Elites, they were top-of-the-line butterfly-style pads. "A Goalie's Dream" the manufacturer said. I arbitrarily assigned them a 5-year life span when I first got them and, after several stitch and repair jobs and a handful of replaced straps, I was able to squeeze 8 good years out of them. My new pads came from the same manufacturer, but man, I never could've guessed how different they'd be. Many of the new features are great as far as safety go but they make skating quite a challenge, especially during the first few uses. Despite the awkwardness and goofiness, I've been able to eek out a couple of wins while wearing them, which has a shitload more to do with the fact that the team I play on is quite good than my playing well. I am getting more and more comfortable in the stinkin' things each time out which is important considering that I spent around $800 US on them and, at that price, I'm thinking that they'll likely be the last pair I buy...

And Finally, Have A Happy Holiday Season!..
Indeed, especially since I've been quite the poor blogger over this past year, I want to thank everybody who comes around on even a semi-regular basis. Granted, I'm getting a lot of search hits from God-knows-where looking for some of the strangest and stupidest things (hey, use enough words paired with enough curse words, people can find you by searching for just about any damn thing) and those are cool too, but it's the small handful of regular readers (you know who you are) that I appreciate. Indeed, I hope you have yourself a fine holiday, regardless of what you're celebrating this time of year. Here's hoping 2008 brings big fun and loads of "whatnot" to you all...

Labels: holidays, indignities, lame stories, misguided rantings

So no doubt you've heard the phrase "better late than never" at some point in your life. Hell, most of you have likely had the occasion to utilize the phrase much like I'm invoking it right now when I say "hey, it's still Wednesday." Indeed, I was very close to simply skipping this week with a small, holiday-themed excuse until I received a surprise package at work today. What was inside, you ask? Well, you'll find out all the (sordid) details when you clicky to listen...

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, misguided rantings, podcasts, sports

Well, kids, it's Wednesday once again, the only day of the week that this deserted shell of a blog carcass sees any sweet posting action. Indeed, it's once again time for the big podcast and this week you get (another) episode wherein Collin and I just chat about whatever comes to mind. I should give fair warning, though, I use a fair amount of foul language in this one (I was feeling that our explicit tag was being neglected) and I go off on quite the misguided rant about all the Steelers fans that were at Mile High over the weekend. Anyhow, that's enough with the typing, here's where YOU clicky to listen...

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, misguided rantings, podcasts, sports

Hi kids. How are you all anyway? I'm doing fine myself, although I feel as if I've been severely neglecting by wee blogsitething here over the course of the last couple of months. Truth is that I've been quite busy with some things and, since the ability to post entries from work has been taken away from both Collin and I, I find myself often forgetting/being way too lazy/being way too ready to go to bed most of the time to get anything posted from home. It's not that I haven't written (or started and never finished writing) posts which could fill precious space here in between photoblog phriday and Awesomecast Wednesday (and whatnot). No no, I have done some (near) writings...I just haven't had the gumption (as some of my older relatives may say) to get my shit together (as likely none of my older relatives would say) and give you people some reason to continue coming around. Hopefully I can find some time to do such things (like, you know, right now) and get my fat ass back on track...

So Yeah, There's "News" to Share...
Some weeks back, during one of the podcast episodes, I succumbed to pressure from Collin to reveal some "big news." I then remembered that our friend Kathy regularly listens to said podcast (thanks, Kath!) and, since the wife and I were going to wait to give her and her husband the "big news" until we were out in their neck of the woods during our vacation at the beginning of last month, I scrambled (ok, not "scrambled" so much as "turned backwards") the "news" so she would be all in suspense and such. Of course, our buddy Justin Carmical unreversed what I had said (using, of course, the same inexpensively free software that I use to edit my 'casts) and was quite congratulatory. Others knew as well although I still have yet to tell too many people at work. This news which I speak of is that my wife is pregnant with our first (and likely only) child. I say "likely only" because the trouble and worry that we've gone through in the last few weeks has really worn on me. I won't go into too much detail other than to say that perhaps there are too many tests and such available to us in this day and age, giving doctors way too many reasons to (needlessly) worry us to death. Anyhow, due date is sometime in March. I'm accepting submissions for names starting now...

And Speaking of Submissions...
Collin and I have been participating in the "Shirt Derby" at shirt.woot on a semi-regular basis since it started up some weeks ago. See, it's a design competition based around a weekly theme where the voters are anyone who has purchased a woot (regular woot.com, wine.woot or shirt.woot) ever and the winning design (actually the top 3 designs now) get printed and sold and the winning designer(s) receive(s) $200 for their efforts. Kind of like Illustration Friday with prizes. Anyhow, to this point, Collin has been able to work a zombie theme into his derby submissions with relative success and I've just been throwing up whatever spews from my fetid headmeats, drawing on not only my questionable sense of humor but my years of t-shirt design and production experience. Sadly, though (and I know I'm going to sound like a whiny little bitch here) the unwashed voting masses of shirt.woot seem to be fucking retard 1337 geeks a little hard to figure out as they vote for often the most retarded and poorly executed dogshit things in an unpredictable manner. Collin has done better than I have overall (even though my lone design beat his designs' collective ASS last week) but neither of us will ever likely win. This is ok to a point but when he and I are submitting the best design executions each week (no, seriously, we are), it gets a little frustrating to get outvoted by some hunk of shit pixelated crap design that won't even print right. Either way, I'm thinking that this week will likely be my last week giving any of my time over to the shirt derby. My concepts were strong for the theme (fictional sports teams) and my execution was fine. Despite that, I'm receiving next to no votes. Time to pack it in. I'm done giving Woot the rights to something I produce entirely from start to finish for 60 days, I'm just gonna take my things straight to Cafe Press (where they can languish in anonymity as well, but at least they'd belong to only me).

And Yeah, The Officiating. It's Football Season Again...
High school and middle school football is upon us once again all across this great nation of ours. This is my second year officiating football at this level and, unlike last season (my first), I feel as if I'm completely unprepared. Yes, this feeling has a lot to do with the somesuch whatnot which has been keeping me from posting on this here blog recently and, to add to all of that, my new crew chief (a highly respected official who also just happens to be head of the state association of football officials) wants be to learn the position of back judge. That, my friends, is not a problem. Back judge may be the least stressful officiating position on the football field from a mental standpoint. From a physical standpoint, though, it will prove to be quite a challenge. I'm sure I've mentioned this before but what the heck, I'll go over it again. I am 5'9" tall. I weigh in the neighborhood of 255 pounds. I could compare my physical stature to that of a brick on end or a fire hydrant. I do not enjoy running in the slightest. Since tearing my MCL joint in my left knee during a hockey game in September, 2005, I've had problems with both knees. Additionally, my achilles tendons are perhaps in questionable shape. Why do I say all of this? Well, it's simple. The back judge has to RUN. Yesterday afternoon was my first varsity game at back judge and Dear Sweet Lord, I had to run. Granted, I was beating the ball carrier to the goal line on most plays and I'm not going to ever give up (which is probably why I have so many joint problems) but it was a challenge. The midday heat caused several players to cramp up and drop during the second half, a period of time which also saw both of my calves cramp up during a long run up the right side. I still kept up and grabbed the dead ball spot but DAMMIT. I can only hope the games I back judge from here on out are in the cool of the evening. I'm still having trouble walking this morning...

But Speaking of "Walking"...
My buddy Ray and I have been playing the golf quite regularly this summer. Some weeks back, we "graduated" from playing par 3 or executive length courses to playing full size regulation courses. This may not sound like much to you but if anyone were to tell me, even a year ago, that this would be the case, I would have laughed them off. Golf, though, is like a mind virus. When it gets hold of you, it gets you good. My dad was a PGA class "A" professional golfer when I was growing up. I, on the other hand, was the worst golfer you would have ever cared to see. He even deemed me "unteachable" at one point and, I have to say, that was probably a fair assessment. Now that I'm knee deep into loving golf, it's nice to have his advice at my disposal. I'm improving every week and, when I hit a snag, I can always ask him what the problem is and he'll have advice to share. The only thing that will be better is when he gets back on his feet and can come out and play a round with us. I can't wait for that.

Get On Board, Freaks!..
So this past Monday was Freak Train at the Bug Theater in Denver. Justin and I went up with the intention of performing and Collin tagged along to watch said performing. Pat Angello was there too (even though it took a little persuasion). Being August, it was the anniversary show (8th, I think) with special video presentations and such. Additionally, people were picked from a hat to be guest co-hosts througout the night. I was lucky enough to be one of them, although I ended up introducing Justin and then Pat and then having to run back stage to prepare for my slot. I did more card magic this time and, even though I got through both tricks (and they worked, of course, because I'm a spooky magical motherfucker), I'm never going to do magic at Freak Train again. 5 minutes is just not enough time. Hell, with patter and stuff, I could spend a whole half hour on one or two tricks. I hate rushing things, even if the trick works. I just don't like it. Of course, the vibe at the Bug that night was kind of in the toilet. I hate to say it, but this past Monday was the worst Freak Train I've ever been to. The crowd was sparse and hard to entertain. I tell you what, I'm glad it wasn't like that the first time I went or I likely never would have gone back...Anyhow, that's done. Time to think about next month...

So that's probably enough babblin' for right now. As always, thanks for stopping by...You kids have yourself a fine Labor Day Weekend now...

Labels: Freak Train, lame stories, misguided rantings

Well holy crapoli, it's Thursday! Indeed, at least for the last year or so, this would be the day where I would share my crack at an Illustration Friday topic (camoflauge this week, I think) or nothing at all. of course, this being my Goddamned blogsitething, I am allowed to twist the rules to meet whatever standard (or lack thereof) pleases me. As such, here comes one of them jumbled-up random style posts...Please keep your limbs n' shit inside the ride car at all times and please, remember that we'll be going verrrry slooooww. Here we go...

I Bet The Folks At The Sinclair Station Were Scared Shitless...
If you're like most folks who reside in these great United States of ours (for my small handful of foreign readers, why not just pretend?! Pick a state to be from, we've got 48 PLUS TWO!), among your greatest fears (suppressed or otherwise), is probably "getting swept up in a tornado." One of the nice things about living here in Colorado Springs, though, is that tornados are quite rare due to factors such as altitude and dry air. In fact, in my relatively short 33-year lifespan, I know only of a mere two tornados which have actually touched down in this area, both times in Manitou Springs (a small town directly west of us) and both times right smack on top of the Sinclair station on Manitou Avenue. Again, to recap: two tornados in 33 years, both of which destroyed the same Sinclair station. It's that fucking dinosaur, I'm tellin' you. Anyhow, this was pretty much the extent of our local tornado lore until yesterday when a particularly fierce storm barreled swiftly down highway 24 in the late afternoon, creating tornados which touched down in Divide, Woodland Park, Manitou Springs and then at at least two locations within the city limits of Colorado Springs, a very rare occurrence to be sure. Now, to be fair, these "tornadoes" are nowhere near as awe-inspring or fearsome as the tornadoes which raze entire towns in hapless states such as Kansas, Nebraska or Iowa. On the contrary, they're short-lived, laid back, f-half high altitude tornadoes which barely touch ground before dissipating. Still, mass destruction or no, it did make for an exciting afternoon...I'm particularly fond of bad weather and, because the agency I work at is perched up on a very tall hill, you can see what's going on with the weather in damn near the whole city from the parking lot...Hell, funnel clouds, lightning, wind and small hail pretty much halted our productivity at 4:47 yesterday as everyone stopped what they were doing and headed outside. It was pretty damn cool...

Roy Pearson Is Still An Asshole, But He's Also Now, Officially, A LOSER!..
As you've no doubt been aware, unless you reside under a rock (a rock with spotty internet access, but a rock nonetheless), there's a dickhead judge named Roy Pearson who sued his dry cleaners for $63 million U.S. initially and then dropped the amount to a mere $54 million (still U.S.) over one misplaced pair of fucking pants. I already wrote a lengthy rant about this which appeared on my humble blogsitething back in May. In it, I had said that my faith in the judicial system was waning BUT lo, it was restored to a point when the judge in the case ruled recently that Roy Pearson was entitled to nothing. The asshole was also ordered to pay the defendants' court costs. Now, when I read that, I was elated until I learned that "court costs" in this case are only the administrative fees which total around a paltry $1,000 (again, U.S.). I did read, however, that a motion to recover the Chungs' legal fees, now in excess of $100,000, will be considered in the near future. I can only hope that, in light of the significant negative attention that this case has brought upon the legal system as a whole and the obviously frivolous and abusive nature of the case, that a judgement will be leveled against Pearson for the full amount of the Chungs' legal costs. Hell, throw in some punitive damages as well, right? It's only fair, in my opinion, since Pearson is the one who forced the Chungs to hire counsel in the first place with his selfish and misguided abuse of the system. I also would like to reiterate my hope that Roy Pearson not only be removed from his position as Administrative Law Judge, but disbarred altogether and forced to work in *ahem* a dry cleaning establishment. Thank you. That is all.

You Learn New Things Every Day...Or At Least You Should...
So, in my daily work life, I am a graphic artist. I know that I've mentioned this fact before on my blog (this thing you're reading right now, just in case I wasn't clear). I think I may also have mentioned that, unfortunately, my skills as a designer to not extend to web design (which should seem ironic since you're reading this revelation ON MY WEBSITE). Web design was not taught while I was earning my degree (mostly because, at the time, the world wide web as we know it simply did not exist! Additionally, cell phones and calling plans were ungodly expensive at the time and I drove a car that ran on LEADED GASOLINE! OH DEAR LORD HOW THE HELL OLD AM I!?) soooo I never really got around to learning it. Oh, sure, I've picked up some basic HTML stuff from selling trinkets and snake oil during the early days of Ebay and, of course, in the day to day of maintaining this blog. That, though, doesn't even begin to mean that, if a client were to come to me and say something such as "buld me a website, beeyotch," that I'd have even the slightest idea as to how. All this is changing, though, due to a push by our clients here at the agency to be more web-present. Indeed, we're all in the process of becoming web design proficient. Myself, I've been going through video training on Dreamweaver (no, not that Gary Wright piece of shit seventies song classic hit, the web design software formerly by Macromedia, now of design software juggernaut Adobe) which, I was warned, might put me to sleep. I do have to admit that, despite my attempts to stay awake, I have been quite literally put to sleep by the training, So much so, in fact, that I've had to run it back more than once to see what I missed during nappy time. It's so Goddamned boring, in fact, that I was wishing I had it on my laptop at home about 4 this morning when I found myself unable to fall back asleep. I guarantee, that shit would've put me right out in no time...

I's Gonna Be Gone For A Short While Here Real Soon...
Indeed, it's about time for me to take another vacation. This time, the wife and I will be driving to Las Vegas with my parents to enjoy some foods, shows and table games. This fact, of course, means that posting (such as it is) will likely be light this coming week. I have made arrangements for a podcast to be posted on Wednesday whilst I am away but...Well...I wouldn't expect too much more than that until I get back into town...Now I know that this likely affects nobody but myself but...Well...Hey, look, it filled some space which would have otherwise gone unfilled and lonely. Take heart, little space! You now have WORDS to keep you warm at night!..

So anyway, that's about it for now. As always, thanks for stopping by. You kids have a fine Thursday now...

Labels: 'round town, lame stories, misguided rantings

So hey, it's...um...Thursday! Yeah! how cool is THAT?..

What's that you say? It's NOT cool to be late? Not even fashionable anymore to be tardy? Dammit...Oh well...What can I say, being out of town threw everything into a kind of tailspin. I do, though, have the new episode to share with you kids today and it's mostly a recap of my time in Phoenix BUT! But it ends with an update of the former big time DJ M. Dung's progress since we interviewed him in December...Seems that one of the guys who found that interview (Owen Bly of Ranchero Records) has hired ol' Dungboy to emcee some concerts this summer...Regardless, this is the point where you clicky to listen:

Labels: audio, get outta town, hockey stuff, misguided rantings, podcasts

And yes, I'm back. Back in town. As you may have already figured out (if you're one of those "observant" types of people), there will be no podcast episode posted today. The reason for this is that there is no podcast episode. Didn't have a chance to record one, I was all "out of town," dontcha know. Perhaps, if you're all good little monkeys, we'll slap one together for tomorrow that you can then download and listen to and (hopefully) enjoy and stuff. Of course, that also may not happen so don't get any hopes up. In fact, it may just be that next week (our year anniversary) will be the next 'cast. Hell, we'll all just have to wait and see. For now, on with the recap of what's been going on for the last 7 days of my life...

Jesus, That's A Long Drive When You're Already Tired...
So as I mentioned, the wife and I drove out to Phoenix to play in the 20th annual Arizona Hockey Classic, me on a team in the Grand Canyon division and she on a team in the Women 3 division. Due to scheduling conflicts beyond our control (specifically the fact that if my wife were to take a "sub day" on the last day of school, the district would dock her a day's pay), we couldn't get on the road until 'bout 3:30 pm (mountain time) on Thursday. We intended to drive the 12 hours straight through to Scottsdale and arrive around 2:30am (pacific time) 'cause we're optimistic and such. On top of that, I personally had intended to make it as far as, say, Grants, New Mexico before the wife had to take over the driving ('cause I'm as optimistic as I am crazy). Long story short, we were able to do the entire drive as planned, but not...well..."as planned." I was only able to make it as far as Las Vegas, NM before the wife took over, making it as far as Casa Blanca, NM where I took over and drove until I could drive no more at Holbrook, AZ. I then slept as the wife made it all the way to Munds park, AZ. After gassing up, I took us the rest of the way into the expansive Phoenix metro area as the wife sawed logs, dead to the world. As I said, it was a long stinking drive considering that we were both pretty tired to begin with. We both admitted later that we knew it was "time to switch off" when we found ourselves going way too fast and feeling just a bit "out of control," but doing nothing about it other that passing every car we could see. But anyhow, back to the whole arrival thing...

Not Sure What Good It Does To Call People Who Don't Even Listen...
As a package deal in conjunction with the hockey tournament, the wife and I were booked in a villa suite at the Scottsdale Plaza resort. Just because I'm one of those nervous sorts of people, I had called the hotel earlier in the week to confirm our reservation details and to advise them of our (very) late arrival. As it turned out, it was a good thing that I called - the guy who made the reservations had "messed up," as he told me later, and not included Thursday as one of our booked nights, even though the wife and I had paid for it. Because the room was booked under the guise of a "group reservation," only David Cohen (the aforementioned "guy"), who runs California Hockey Productions, could make reservation changes. As such, after calling him and hearing an apology, the reservation was changed. I then called the hotel back, confirmed that the reservation was correct and advised them again of our late arrival, stating specifically that we would be in 'round 3:00 am on Friday morning. "That won't be a problem, sir," I was told. Fast forward to that time, Friday morning when I staggered into the front lobby of the Plaza and was told that, because we never showed up, I had been placed in the "no-show" pile. Fat lot of good it does to call, I realized. Regardless, after a few minutes, the confused desk trainee (with the help of the night manager) found my reservation and gave me my room keys. We were booked in room 924, a villa suite at the back end of the complex. After checking the handy map they gave me, I drove around to the little parking area that bordered the villas and started to unload. As I opened the front door of the suite to dump off the first load of stuff, I was met with a most unpleasant odor...Despite the notation on both the wife's and my reservation thing, we had been given a smoking suite...I immediately called the front desk and advised them of the error but was once again met with "we can't do anything for you, it was booked and assigned as part of your group. Only David Cohen is authorized to make changes." The hotel promised to contact him first thing the next day, but that was nothing more than a lie to get me off of the phone. No call to Cohen, no halp, no nothing...We were stuck in a lousy, stinky smoking suite.

Nasty Odor Aside, The Hotel Was Top-Notch...Especially on the Price Scale...
Despite the fact that we didn't get the non-smoking villa we had requested, I have to say that the Scottsdale Plaza resort is quite the place. Situated on 40 acres, the Plaza boasts over 400 rooms (which include almost 200 suites), five (count 'em, five) swimmin' pools, lighted tennis courts, fitness facilites and is within walking distance of restaurants such as Ruth's Chris Steak House and Roy's Hawaiian Fusion. It's also a place that struck me as one that is geared toward the well-heeled, albeit poorly prepared, traveler. The Plaza's intention of a stay at the Plaza is just that: you stay at the Plaza, eating room service or at the poolside cafe or at their finer dining establishment called Remingtons and you eat snacks from their 800% markup snacky basket and drink from their 1000% markup booze cabinet. In addition, you're invited to spend monies on in-room movies and video games, the in-room "sun kit" (you know, just in case you forgot sunscreen), their exclusive (in-room) embroidered Plaza robe and, oh yes, $10.00 per day for access to the (in-room) internets. It's insane and, hey, just for the privilege of being able to access things like your (in-room) safe and the (not in-room) racquetball court and the pools and the parking, a $15.00 per day "facilities charge" is added to your bill on top of whatever exorbitant amount you're paying for your room...Or suite...Or whatever...Considering the fact that we were in town to play multiple hockey games, I didn't figure I'd need the fitness facilites but, all things being equal, it was nice to have the space of the suite to spread out wet hockey gear to dry for play the next day. In the only form of revenge which was available to me, I replaced the foul stench of thousands of cigarettes with the pungent bouquet of sweaty goalie pads. Take that, Plaza...I stink way more than you...

So You Said You Were There To Play Hockey...What About The Games, Man!?
The first game for my team was an early one. In fact, it was officially the first game played in the entire tournament, at 4:30 pm Friday at what used to be Polar Ice in Chandler, AZ. Gametime was so early, in fact, that some of the guys on the team barely made it due to their flights having been delayed by weather in Dallas. One of our centermen even had to dress in a taxi on the way to the rink. Our first opponent was the San Jose Subzero, a team which had been the champions one division lower just a year prior. Once the game started, though, it was obvious that the Subzero weren't going to be much of a challenge. My team (called the Colorado Springs Posse, only because we were wearing old Pennsylvania Posse jerseys and, hey, we're not from Pennsylvania) kept the puck in the offensive zone most of the game and, even though I kind of half-assed it, we won 7-2. Following the game, most of the team had dinner at an Asian Fusion restaurant called Thaifoon (I highly recommend, by the way) and then it was off to Arcadia Ice Rink to watch the wife's team play an 11:40 pm game against the California Polar Cats...Sadly, mostly due to the efforts of one big damn bitch (she was bigger than me) on the California team, the wife's team lost 2-1 in overtime. As will soon be revealed, though, it turned out to be her team's best chance to get a win in the entire tournament...
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Saturday found my team playing at Arcadia in the early afternoon against the Los Angeles Ice Age, a team that looked "scary fast" to some of the ladies watching and one that, as it turned out, we matched up quite equally with. So equally, in fact, that their fat goalie wears number 54 just as our fat goalie (me) does. The game turned out to be one of the exciting and hard-fought variety, one which we were able to win 3-2 because, unlike the day before, I didn't "half-ass it" and made several saves. At that point, it almost seemed like the Posse could be unstoppable as long as I kept playing well and the rest of the team continued to put good pressure on the opposing goaltender. The girls played later in Chandler and, long and painful story short, were again defeated, this time by the San Jose Burninators (named, of course, for Trogdor the Burninator). The wife played another strong game on defense but, as is usually the case, one player can't change a bad team's fortunes...
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On Sunday, the Posse had to play quite early. 9:30 am early, to be exact, again at Chandler but this time against the Riverside Wolfpack, a team which we knew that we could beat due to their substandard goaltending (a fat, nearsighted guy named Sanchez who I saw the day prior walking around in a shirt which read "snuggles," wearing (I swear), one of those "plushy" character backpacks). On top of that, if we did beat them, we would receive a bye into the championship game on Monday afternoon. Long story short, too many of the retards which make up the Posse stayed out damn near all night on Saturday drinking, partying, etc. and were completely ineffective during the game on Sunday morning. Many of the players who skated great just a day before were reduced to slobbering and falling down, losing the puck and giving the other team chance after chance which they, of course, capitalized on, defeating us 7-2. As can be imagined, I was more than a little pissed off. When we found out later that we'd have to play that same team in about 6 hours in a semifinal game, I began psyching myself up. I told the rest of the team to "fucking sober up" and that we could, in fact, beat Riverside if we could just get more than 5 shots on net. Before our semifinal game, the ladies played a 4 o'clock game at the Alltel Ice Den. I was able to watch two periods of that game before having to run off to Chandler to play the Wolfpack. In that do-or-die game, I held up my end of the bargain, holding a shutout well into the second period and only relinquishing 3 total goals to a team which was once again allowed to run wild. My "team," however, couldn't come through for me and hold up their end. The Posse skated a little better than they had in the morning but halved their earlier goal total, posting only one en route to a bitter defeat which sent the Wolfpack to the championship game against the Ice Age and sent our dumb asses packing. I also learned after my game that my wife's team had, in fact, lost their 3rd straight game, this time against the Tucson Chilly Peppers (yeah, "chilly." Brrr. I get it. Shut up) and were also done for the tournament...

Is There A Bright Side To Being Losers?..
All tolled, the Colorado Springs Posse finished in third place out of six teams in the Grand Canyon division. Additionally, not playing in the championship game afforded the wife and I the opportunity to get the Hell out of town earlier than expected on Monday, something which I would have gladly traded for the aforementioned "shot at the title." While a large number of the members of my "team" came down to party and drink, I had come the nearly 900 miles to Phoenix to fucking WIN hockey games. I played my ass off for them and they couldn't return the favor to me. I found myself missing the Sharks (my regular team), especially while playing the Wolfpack, I found myself saying things like "Kenny would have gotten to that puck" or "Ryan wouldn't have made that mistake" and, best of all, "Don or Schultz would've CRUSHED that fuckin' guy." I was run into and knocked around by every team we faced and the weak-ass roller hockey fucks on the Posse could do nothing about it, leaving me to doll out my own retribution. The Sharks would've never let things go that far. The Sharks also understand how to win a hockey game against a good team, a point which was illustrated cleanly last night as we defeated the Rampage 13-2 in my first game back in town. If I play in another tournament, I want it to be with the Sharks, not the Posse. Does that make me sound like a whiner? Maybe. Is it the truth? Absolutely...At least I won't have wasted money and time if I play with a team that knows how to get their shit together...

Split Up The Drive Home - Something We Should've Done To The Drive Out...
Knowing that we'd be pretty well tired driving home, I had procured a hotel room in Albuquerque, NM for Monday night. extremely long story short, don't EVER stay at the Days Inn Midtown on Menaul in Albuquerque. The place in an absolute shithole. I was afraid to touch anything...Dirty, dirty, dirty...

So hey, despite the fact that I tried to pack way too much into this one post, that's about it. As always, thanks for stopping by - you kids have a fine Wednesday now...

Labels: get outta town, hockey stuff, indignities, lame stories, misguided rantings, sports, tales of triumph

Crap! Crap crap crap! It's Wednesday already! Dammit!..

What I'm doing here is practicing for NEXT Wednesday...See, I'm going to be out of town for a little while and, with no awesomecasts in the can at this point, we may have to miss next week. Note that I said "may," considering that we've pulled podcasts out of nowhere at the last minute more than once in the past year (and yes, I know, it's obvious, shut up) so anything is possible. Anyhow, back to today, it IS kind of a milestone podcast in a way...Well, at least in the way that 50 is a nice large round number and today you kids get the 50th episode...Only two more weeks until our one-year anniversary...In today's episode, I goad Collin into arguments about absurd topics (you're welcome, Justin) and hilarity almost ensues...Clicky to listen:

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, misguided rantings, podcasts

So here we are, collectively staring Friday down with an unblinking gaze and HEY! There's no photo or video blog to be found on my sad little blogsitething. Now, I could sit here and offer excuse after excuse about how I don't have a videoblog 'cause I didn't get to Freak Train in enough time to sign up this past Monday or how I don't have a photoblog because I'm a lazy bastard who seemingly has no regard for other people's feelings but that would all be idle chatter. And things such as idle chatter are not becoming to persons of action such as ourselves, now is it? With that in mind, in lieu of anything visually stimulating, I shall offer to you a poorly crafted rant based on a news story which I read earlier this week...

Judge Roy Bean Was Known As The "Hangin' Judge." Judge Roy Pearson? Known Simply as an Asshole...
So it seems that there's this dry cleaning business somewhere in our nation's capital (that's Washington D.C. for you kids not in the know) which is owned by Jin Nam Chung, Ki Chung and Soo Chung. Collectively, these people are known as "the Chungs" and they hail from South Korea. It seems that two years ago, in May of 2005, some asshole lawyer named Roy Pearson was promoted to the position of Administrative Hearings Judge. Wanting to look his best, he brought several suits for alteration to the Chungs' establishment. When Judge Dickhead returned two days later to claim his property, one of the pairs of pants from his pile of suits could not be found. When the pants were deemed to be missing, the judge demanded payment for the full price of the suit from the Chungs, an amount in excess of $1,000. A week later, the Chungs were able to find Judge Pearson's missing pants and refused his demand of payment. After all, his pants were found! Hooray for missing pants which are no longer missing! The prodigal pants return! One would think that the judge would be happy to have his pants, but no. The greedy asshole merely wanted money. Being that he's in a position to abuse the legal system, Judge Roy Pearson initiated a process to do just that - He sued the Chungs.

No, seriously...You read that correctly...Instead of going and picking up his pants, he SUED the Chungs.

Now one would think that only the best and brightest become lawyers and then judges in our society. Those with a drive and a thirst for knowledge beyond that of mere mortals end up persevering in their pursuits of legal success. Of course, if one thought that, one would be wrong. The sad truth is that there are more greedy assholes with distorted senses of entitlement in these sorts of positions than not. You see, Ol' Judge Pearson began to strongarm the Chungs who offered varying settlement offers to make him go away but even when their offer reached $12,000 FOR ONE FUCKING NO-LONGER-MISSING PAIR OF PANTS, Pearson the Prick refused and moved forward with his lawsuit to the tune of $65,000,000 U.S.

No, I didn't mistype anything...This jackass judge is suing the Chungs, owners of a dry cleaners, for the sum of sixty-five MILLION dollars...

For starters, Pearson is going so far as to say that, because he no longer wishes to do business with the Chungs, the closest cleaners to his house, he's asking for $15,000 to rent a car every weekend and drive to another dry cleaner. He's also twisting the Washington D.C. consumer protection law to "fine" the Chungs $1,500 per violation, per day. See, in Prick Pearson's estimation, they've wronged him 12 ways for 1,200 days (and counting) multiplied by three (Jin Nam, Ki and Soo, in case you're keeping score). You see, the Chungs have two signs hanging in their establishment. One reads "Satisfaction Guaranteed" and the other reads "Same Day Service." Pearson, of course, claims that these signs amount to fraud since he was nether satisfied nor did he receive "same day service." While one cannot dispute that Pearson didn't receive his pants on time, I cannot believe that anyone in their right mind would simply refuse to pick up their pants once they are found UNLESS THEY ARE A GREEDY, LITIGIOUS FUCK (like Roy Pearson) WHO'S JUST OUT LOOKIN' FOR A BIG SCORE (like Roy Pearson). These things really get to me for a very personal reason...I was sued 4 years ago for an accident on a softball field. Even thought that eventually was settled out of court, the whole process left me completely disenchanted with the legal system and made me hate lawyers and their ilk. You see, if some asshole gets it in his or her mind that they want to sue you, for whatever reason, all they have to do is visit one of the many lawyers who's commercials you see on the television. That lawyer will then go through the process of ruining your life serving you with papers which mean that you have to now defend yourself which puts you out money and time. Frivolous lawsuits are clogging the legal system and are truly ruining good people's lives. Lawyers are getting fat off of these sorts of baseless claims on both sides of the fence, even if they position themselves as the "good guy" and come out against them.

Look, when it's all said and done, this asshole Roy Pearson is still a sociopath in a position of inordinant power. I can only hope that, when his judicial appointment comes up for review, this gross abuse of his power is considered and that he is not only removed from his position, but disbarred. There's no room in society for individuals such as Roy Pearson to roam free, wielding legal power like some sort of shotgun as he attempts to compensate for his microscopic genitalia. Hey, I'll say it again: FUCK YOU, Judge Roy Pearson. FUCK YOU TO HELL.

I have learned one thing from reading the news reports of this incident, though...If I ever open a business, the only sign I'll hang will read simply "We reserve the right to refuse service to lawyers and judges." Of course, that would probably get me sued all over again...

Labels: indignities, lame stories, misguided rantings

So it's Wednesday again. As expected, I'm about to foist another episode of the Son of Cheese Half Hour Power Hour on you kids. In this week's episode, Collin and I essentially do what can only be called "blog entries for the blind" since what we're talking about has already been covered on our respective blogs. Still, if you listen to it, you get to hear some spontaneous curse words and...Well...Doesn't that always brighten up your day? Anyhow, get with the clickin'!

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, misguided rantings, podcasts

Hey, kids, it's almost Monday as I'm typing this and, just so's you know, I'm having trouble getting to sleep...This lack of sleep thing is most likely due to the fact that I may have included a little too much caffeine in my diet today or maybe it's that the standup routine that I wrote for tomorrow's Freak train keeps traipsing through my fetid headmeats, leaving it's muddy footprints everywhere and refusing to hang it's coat on a hanger, like a civilized set of thoughts would...At any rate, I figured that if said headmeats were going to refuse to shut down, I might as well put them to good (HA!) use and bang out one of them blog posts that the kids (whomever THEY may be) seem to love so much. Ready? Good, here come the sentences...

***Update*** The egg on the face, it tastes...Like egg! It seems that "Submission Reviewer" is NOT affiliated with our local paper. It also would seem that I'm still somehow in the running for the whole reviewer thing at this point, provided I can make it to a specific location at 4pm this Friday...So in the long run, "SR" was just trying to make people sad by leaving scathing comments. WTF am I talking about here? Read on and find out...
Your Words, They Cut Like The Knife...
One of the people that I work with who also happens to have a blog (other than Collin and the lady-who-remains-nameless-even-though-we-all-go-for-lunch-'cause-she's-our-surrogate-Kathy) had a post on his blog last week in regards to our local paper holding a contest of sorts in order to find themselves a new dining critic seeing as their current (and soon to be former, if'n he ain't already) dining critic was (and this is seriously what they said) "looking to devote more time to his day job." What they wanted was for the unwashed masses to submit their own dining reviews so that they may be considered for the (lofty) position of part-time food critic at the ol' newspaper. Once I found out about this, I decided that, since I had more than a few "restaurant reviews" kicking around on the ol' blogsitething here (seriously, check the archives, I have tons of posts wherein I type about food, no wonder I'm so fat), I figured that I'd just use one of those as my "entry," choosing (foolishly) to use my review of Famous Dave's BBQ from when I was in Las Vegas a couple of years back...I figured "all I have to do is show a sample of my writing style as it pertains to food and they'll love me."

It's ok, you can stop chuckling...I've been wrong before, it ain't the first time...

Word to the wise: never use a blog post as an entry into a contest where actual journalist-types are judges. This blatant faux-pas will be seen as "half-assing" your entry (which...duh...It is) and the resultant comments which your submission will generate will be...Um..."less than kind." I know, I know, I didn't do myself any favors by choosing an old review of a chain restaurant which happens to be out of town. I also failed to focus on the "total dining experience" (you know, hours, prices, what the waitresses wear, shit like that) but...Well, I didn't give that any thought at the time. Anyhow, with the deadline for submissions having been this past Friday, I checked on Sunday to see if there had been any comments left on my entry and lo-and-behold, there had been. Of course, one was from a "shill" of sorts (my wife) and her comment was vaguely positive, which I liked...The comment which followed my wife's wasn't unkind either (the commenter called my review a "fun read" and then brought up valid points about my not describing the menu in enough detail). The next comment, though, illustrated the main problem with using an old review: there now happens to be a Famous Dave's location right here in town...I'm sure this commenter was thinking "why didn't you simply review the one IN TOWN, doofus? I wouldn't blame him (or her) if they had, it's a valid concern, but one that you kids already KNOW the reason behind...The next comment (where things start to go South, just so you know) hated, to the point of wanting to "barf" even, my gross overuse of the ellipses (you know, this shit: ... ). I can't really say anything to that outside of "sorry, that's just how I do things." I never claimed to know how to write but 'de ellipses, last time I checked, are a thoroughly acceptable way to denote a pause and...Well...I "pause" a lot, as you can probably tell by now...Anyhow, moving on to the next comment which was left by (dun dun DUNNN) the Submission Reviewer or "SR" (as I'm sure he (or she) is known to his (or her) friends). As you can likely imagine, SR did NOT like my little blog entry restaurant review one Goddamn bit. Outside of the valid complaints (I didn't go in depth enough, restaurant location isn't local, blah blah blah) SR was able to put in one of those Journalists-hate-blog-entries jabs by saying that "the writing was Junior High at best." SR follows up this slight by ignoring what he (or she) said just a sentence or two earlier about my choice of location and snidely recommended other BBQ restaurants in Las Vegas, including Memphis Championship which, ironically, I did review in another one of my (insipid) blog posts about Vegas...I just didn't send it in for this contest...

Before I move on from this, though, I feel the need to revisit SR's complaint about my writing: "Junior High at best." Down to the brass tacks, his (or her) comment means that even on my BEST day, which are few and far between, I can still muster up no more informative and descriptive power with my typin's than your average 8th grader. I see this as a bit of a disappointment...I had more on the end of this paragraph, but have removed it for the time being because I'm a total sellout.

Anyhow, I guess it's safe to say at this point that I won't be doing any paid dining reviews anytime soon (or ever). Of course, it's probably for the best as I barely have enough time in my week to foist my sub-sophomoric storytelling on you poor bastards (and bastardettes), let alone eat out all the time and get paid to type about it. On top of that, if I WERE a dining critic, I'd probably have to change my byline to H. Fatty Obesenstein...

Which leads me to another topic...

They Say The Camera Adds Ten Pounds...How Many Damn Cameras Were On Me, Anyway!?
I know I've mentioned before that, in my not-so-copious spare time, I've been officiating high school and middle school (see, it's not even called "Junior High" anymore) wrestling. As such, this past week, I was scheduled to be the JV referee at a dual meet which just happened to be one of the "televised" variety...When these sorts of things are televised, the cameras are only trained on the varsity mat which meant that I wasn't supposed to be "on camera" for any of the matches that I was scheduled to officiate. Anyhow, long story short(er), following weigh-ins, it was apparent that, of a possible 14 matches, the JV squads were only going to be able to muster 3 measly little matches for me to work over on the (lowly) JV mat. Because of this (the great JV match drought of ot-seven), once my matches concluded, I wandered over to the varsity mat to assist the varsity official. Now, in addition to me assisting him, the varsity official talked the varsity coaches into allowing me to officiate one varsity match just for the sake of expanding my experience. Anyhow, all of this led to my fat self being highly visible on the television broadcast of the event, which I was able to watch on friday evening. Now, before I go into detail about how grossly enormous I appeared to be on screen, I should ask you kids a question...Have you ever felt like "ok, I know I've put on a few pounds, but I don't look TOO bad" and then you end up seeing a picture of yourself or (God forbid) a video of yourself? If you have, then you know just how disparate your self-image and the image on the screen can be which was exactly the case when I saw the broadcast...I looked...Well, I looked like Godzilla AFTER eating Tokyo...Just a fat blob in black-and-white stripes and, to tell the truth, I was dumbfounded that I was able to move, let alone move so fast, pudge rolls a-jigglin'. Hell, with all of the fat hanging off of the extra fat (which, of course, was nestled close to fat I didn't even know I had), it appeared that I stood upright only through the workings of a miracle. Christ, I'm a circus freak...You want to talk about a quick way to become depressed...I was even starting to wonder, watching Fatty Fatterson play the role of me on the TV, if I would ever be able to fit into human-sized clothing again...

So I'm going to go back on a weight-loss program...I'll let you kids know how that goes...

And Speaking of "Half-Assing" Things (Oh, We Were)...
Later today (much later, actually) is the January Freak Train at the Bug Theatre in Denver. I mentioned at the very beginning of this already way-too-long post that I have a stand-up routine which I plan to unveil at said Freak Train running through my headmeats and preventing me from attaining sweet, peaceful slumber...The reason for this standup routine's forceful takeover of my brain is a simple one: I just got around to writing it. To be fair, I had SOME of the jokes written a couple month ago and I plan on doing a live version of one of my many audio entries which used to grace the pages of this sad little blogsitething on a semi-regular basis, so that's not terribly hard to memorize but...Well, the meat of the routine is all new...This, of course, means that I'm currently caught in the Hell of knowing that I need sleep but also knowing that I may get up on stage Monday night and completely space out what I'm supposed to say...Of course as you've probably already discerned, I'm trying to reconcile all of the aforementioned stress by typing up a shockingly long and pointless blog entry (this one). Since that is the case, though, I should probably mention that Justin Carmical plans on catching a ride with me up to the Train so that he can try out a standup routine which, if I remember right, he wrote in a fever dream. Should be lots of fun. I promise (HA! Look at me promising) that I'll bring my trusty video camera along in order to capture the moment for posterity...

So that should be that, kids...As always, thanks for stopping by. You all have a fine Monday now...

Labels: Bad Stand-Up Comedy, get outta town, I eat food, lame stories, misguided rantings, sports

You know, back a few episodes we found out that, on the Son of Cheese Half-Hour Power Hour, we should never try and report news. Today, we find that we should also never try and tackle any sort of real issue...say like "racism." In this episode, Collin joins us via the telephone again and we get into it regarding all things discriminatory. Clicky to listen:

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, misguided rantings, podcasts

So remember back about 3 weeks ago when our old buddy Collin and myself began a discussion about how Kevin D. Denee was crazy 'cause he thinks that blogging is the devil? Remember that? Good, 'cause this week's episode is the continuation of THAT episode from three weeks ago...So here it comes:

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, misguided rantings, podcasts, religion

Woo hoo, it's Wednesday again! Of course, this means that I'm about to unveil yet another episode of the Son of Cheese Half-Hour Power Hour! Look, it's no secret that we record these things (well) in advance of when they post and so it should come as no surprise that, much like last week, we're going to be "drunk" in this week's episode. Ready for the booze-soaked shenanigans? Clicky to listen!

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, misguided rantings, podcasts

Wow, Wednesday again already...Of course, this means that I'm about to unveil another episode of the big podcast...This week's half-hour Power Hour has to do with drinking on the job (specifically the time that I almost got Collin fired). Additionally, because we wanted to give this show an "authentic flavor," so to speak, we were drinking (premium) booze while we recorded it. Anyway, enough rambling, clicky to enjoy!

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, misguided rantings, podcasts

Hey hey, it's Wednesday! Of course, that fact means that I'm about to unveil (yet another) episode of the Son of Cheese Half-Hour Power Hour! This week's episode is merely a continuation of the tangent which we found ourselves off on following the July 5th episode, talking about movies and television and entertainment which we like (or dislike). In-studio guest for this episode is Trevor Davis. Hope you enjoy:

Labels: audio, awesomecasts, collin crap, misguided rantings, podcasts

Ok, do me a quick favor, kids: look around your area and make sure that everything's neat and tidy and that you're ready for the MOTHERFUCKING APOCALYPSE! AAAAAAAAAAA! SACKCLOTH! ASHES! WAILING! GNASHING OF TEETH! MASS PANIC IN THE STREETS! BILLY RAY CYRUS ALBUMS ON AN ENDLESS LOOP! DOGS AND CATS LIVING TOGETHER! FIRE! BRIMSTONE! SAUERKRAUT! THE REMAKE OF THE MOVIE "THE OMEN!"

Oh, the humanity...

Yeah, so it just so happens that TODAY is Tuesday, the 6th of June, 2006. "So fucking what?" you are likely asking, while brushing bagel crumbs off of your newly stained shirt and wiping cream cheese off of your (this one's just for the ladies) slovenly, unshaven face. certainly, if you are an astute reader of this stupid little blog (and who isn't, right?), you would know that I already made mention LAST week of the fact that there are a number of theologians who now believe that the number six hundred sixty six being given the (dubious) distinction as the "number of the (motherfucking) beast" was nothing more than a mathematical error. That's right, kids, a couple thousand years later and these guys are JUST NOW getting around to checking the math. Anyhow, yeah: 666 is right out and now, the REALLY REAL number which the beast calls his (or her) own is REALLY (for the reals) "six hundred sixteen."

Well now...THAT'S anticlimactic...

616. six-one-six. "Number of the beast light: 50 fewer singles than the original number of the beast." Yep, kids, everything you thought you knew about the DEVIL is flat out WRONG: six hundred sixteen is the new number of the beast (and the new number of the beast is 616)...See, for the past TWO THOUSAND YEARS (give or take thirty), it seems that we've been collectively fearful of the WRONG FUCKING NUMBER. Oh, how silly we have been...What's next? Friday the 13th was REALLY SUPPOSED to be Friday the 15th but it fell on a Sunday that year and just wasn't convenient and oh, what the Hell, 13 sounds cooler? DAMMIT! GET YOUR SHIT STRAIGHT, PEOPLE WHO INTEND TO SCARE US ALL! Anyway, this recent development pretty much means that all of the hype surrounding this day which your friendly neighborhood death metal bands, satan worshippers and Hollywood execs have been waiting impatiently for like so many demented kids at Christmas with all of it's spooky, devilish potential is nothing but a load of horseshit. By this logic, the REAL day which we should have been all screwy about would've been the FIRST of June, 2006.'

Newsflash: That day has come and gone...

Yeah, so the "day of the beast," if you believe the NEW number came and went sans fanfare last Thursday. Think back to last Thursday with me, kids...Where were you? What were you doing? Did anything spooky and unexplainable happen last Thursday? Probably not, right? For me, personally, It was a normal day...I went to work, played hockey and went to bed without any apocalypticness. Of course, if you REALLY think about it, if ol' satan were gonna REALLY get us, don't ya think that the bastard would be sneaky enough NOT TO DO IT WHEN WE'RE COLLECTIVELY EXPECTING IT? of course he would! He'd nail us all on some RANDOM damn day, like...August 12th. Nobody expects shit to go down on August 12th! So anyway, if you ARE all skeered 'cause today's 06/06/06, well...Snap the Hell out of it, would ya? Get out and enjoy a beautiful late Spring day...have a picnic, feed some ducks, hold up a 7-11, poke fun at some panhandlers, put burning bags of dog crap on the porch of the local crackhouse, ring the doorbell and run, whatever makes you happy because after all, kids...

Today is just another day...

Labels: holidays, lame stories, misguided rantings, religion

And so, much like last week, the week before and (likely) the week before that, we find ourselves once again locked in a staredown with that bastard they call "Tuesday." I'd like to take this opportunity to tell all (3 or 4 of) you kids that I have a lot to type about, and you should be absolutely RIVETED by what you're about to read but...I'd be lying to you if I did that. Of course, this wouldn't be the first time I've lied to you (not by a long shot) so I know that, by now, you can handle it. Hell, you've no doubt come to expect it. In fact, the handful of you who keep coming back to this goofy little blogsitething here must REALLY like being lied to...For that, I am appreciative...Thank you...

Anyhow...

How 'Bout Them Avalanche!?
I started off LAST WEEK'S completely random Tuesday post with this topic and I am compelled to do the very same thing THIS week...SCREW YOU, DALLAS STARS! Yeah! ha HA! The Colorado Avalanche, the same team that played poorly down the stretch during the regular season, the same team that had a big, fat glaring question mark at the goalie position, the same team that backed into the playoffs and had me worried that they would fall flat against Dallas not only did NOT fall flat, but they hung a Texas-sized asswhuppin' on those Stars, eliminating them in 5 games. In the series, 3 of the 4 Avalanche wins came in Overtime and the much maligned (by me) Jose Theodore stood tall when it counted, shutting the door on the Stars late in the games and giving the Avs the opportunity to score the late goals which meant the real difference. Also: Andrew Brunette, you're my HERO...

In addition to the 7th seed knocking of the 2nd seed (Avs over Stars), Edmonton pulled the proverbial rabbit out of their hockey helmet and, despite a superhuman effort by Henrik Zetterberg for Detroit, knocked off the Redwings in 6 games to also advance to the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Detroit, who had the best regular season record in the NHL, is not the first President's trophy winner in NHL history to be bounced unceremoniously in the first round. Some call it the "curse of the president's trophy," but I have a more realistic view: the Wings severely underestimated their opponent and, conversely, overestimated their own talent. Regardless, they're free to make tee-times now and that makes me quite happy...

Everybody Needs A Little Positive Feedback Now and Then...
As some of you may already know, I've always been quite enamored with talk radio. Among other things, I've been a talk show host in my past and, if I'm not listening to a CD in my truck, I'm likely listening to talk radio. Sadly, outside of sports talk, I've found that actual "good" talk radio can be pretty hard to find. With that said, I've really taken a shine in the last few months to the Penn Jillette Show which you can stream live from noon to 1pm (Mountain time) or, if you're so inclined, pick up as a podcast the following day. Now, because I am a proud and permanent member of the lunatic fringe, I've called into the show a couple times and also sent in an email which was read on the air. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that a "fan art" section was added to the show's website and, since I had a few extra minutes, I decided to slap something together and submit it. Now, the whole "fan art" thing has always seemed a little geeky to me and I've only slipped completely into fan-geekdom once before in my life, submitting this, which was inspired by this, to this guy some years back (he liked it). Anyhow, with only a couple of photographs to work from (and, of course, my spooky, spooky brain to assist me), I came up with this to submit to the Penn Jillette Show:
click it, it'll get all "big" and you'll be able to discern "detail" and shit...

When I sent it, I got a nice email back from Michael Goudeau saying that it was...well, I can't exactly remember what he said (and I'm not going to take the time to look) but I do remember that he liked it and that he said it would go up on the website...After a few back and forth emails between me and their web guy, it DID go up and, predictably, I felt "pride." At the end of last week, though, I got some nice, non-specific feedback on the air from Penn which led to me feeling even MORE "pride"...In lieu of an audio snippet (which might get me in trouble...copyrights and all, you know), I'll transcribe the little bit he said about my drawing during the show...

(Penn, speaking to Michael Goudeau) ...I looked at (the website) the other day, it's got pictures and stuff! Pictures from the AIDS walk, pictures of your kids, just kidnapping fodder all over the place there and uh...A picture of Moxie, me holding Moxie walking across the line at the AIDS walk and ALSO cartoons, psychotic cartoons that people send in of you and I doin' the show. There was one I really liked with you, uh, juggling donuts and me eating donuts and just boxes of donuts all over the place. I guess we give people the impression that we do nothing but eat Krispy Kreme donuts...

So there you go..."one I really liked." I know it's not much but every little bit of feedback helps. What it helps, I'm not exactly sure, but it helps. Hooray for "positive feedback" (like comments - hint hint). As a sidenote, since I was just guessing as to what the studio would look like when I drew the thing, I now feel compelled to rework it and resubmit it because pictures of the actual studio recently went up on the site and...well...The only thing I really guessed right on were the microphones. I was way off on everything else, especially about the whole "lighting" factor...

A Day Without Immigrants? Ooh, Can We Shoot For a Whole Week?..
So yesterday, in an attempt to display their "clout," scores of "immigrants" were supposed to take a cue from the AFL-CIO and forego doing any actual "work" to instead prance around in public places all across this great land and shout half-assed slogans, likely in a language which I would have trouble comprehending. Now this is all well and good, I guess - we do have a number of freedoms in this country including the freedom to assemble and the right to free speech but, if the people who were assembling and speaking are in this country illegaly...Do they really have those rights at their disposal? I think what has bothered me the most about this whole "immigration reform protest" deal which has, of course, been coming to a head for more than a few weeks now, is that those involved seem to think that the only "immigrant" which matters are those who trek across into the States from Mexico. I guess it's only fair - they probably couldn't get any help from the NAACP since the only color which that organization believes exists is "black." Regardless, around here I didn't see any significant impact - we don't employ any illegals where I work. I heard on the news that there was a gathering in Memorial Park near downtown and, following that, the group attempted to march downtown but were turned away by the cops. Now that yesterday is over (and, presumably, all of the dishwashers and construction site cleanup guys have gone back to their temp agencies to pick up some work) I'd like to say that I don't begrudge anyone who wishes to enter our country and become a part of our population. After all, this country was built on immigration, it's one of the things at the very core of american society. I just have one simple request of those who would seek to join us here:

Follow the stinkin' rules, would ya?..

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, famous folk, hockey stuff, Illustrations, lame stories, misguided rantings, radio stories, sports, tales of triumph

Hey, look! It's "Tuesday" already...You know, what with it having been "Monday" and all, I really wanted to have something written up and posted yesterday but, much like FEMA asking those hurricane folk for all that money back, chances were slim THAT would happen. Why can't I get my proverbial "crap" together and just friggin' write somethin'? I don't know...It's not that I'm terribly busy, we're actually going through a bit of a slow period at work, I guess that I'm just not terribly "inspired." Granted, my having nothing worthwhile to post has never stopped me from posting in the past so why should it stop me now? Ha HA! The answer, of course, is that it won't...

How 'Bout Them Avalanche!?
Starting off today's completely random post, I have to say that the Colorado Avalanche have been a pleasant surprise to this point, two games into the first round of the NHL playoffs. I still believe that Pierre Lacroix made a completely boneheaded move trading away David Aebischer in exchange for Jose Theodore and I firmly believe that Theodore is a mere shell of whatever he used to be but HOW 'BOUT THEM AVALANCHE!? Yeah! To take the first two games of the series from the Dallas Stars IN DALLAS is a real positive for a team that played wholly subpar hockey down the stretch and, for all intents and purposes, backed their way into the playoffs. Certainly, the series is far from over, but the Avs have been playing inspired team hockey so far in the playoffs and I can only hope that such things continue as the series shifts to the Pepsi Center for the next two games...

We Toss The Small Ones...
Some of you should know exactly what the title of this section of today's post is in reference to (especially if your name is Collin). Of course, I'm referencing the Mental Health Facility that is just down the hill from where he and I work and that has created many memorable moments, at least for me, what with the dodging of random mental patients who dart out into the road or the fact that we now have a combination lock on our doors here at work to keep them damn crazies from looting desks while everyone's at lunch...Anyhow, unrelated to mental health issues, this past weekend, I was one of four officials at the CSAL post-season wrestling tournament. During the lunch break, the four of us were sitting together, eating our free Polish dogs, when Rossie (one of the other officials) asked me where it is that I work. As I was describing the rather out of the way placement of the agency to him, Steve (the lead official) perked up and told me that he used to live where the agency is now, up on the very same hill, in one of the units of a fourplex, long before the building I work with was built. He then proceeds to tell us about a party which he threw when he lived there, many years ago. At some point, during said party, a female showed up and joined in the festivities. Steve said that he assumed that she was one of his neighbors or that, perhaps, she was a friend of one of his friends. Regardless, he only started to regard her with caution when, a few hours into the party, she pulled him aside and told him that while she was in the bathroom, she had been looking through his medicine cabinet and found some medicines that she REALLY REALLY needed and so she took some but that it was ok because she had left him Jolly Ranchers as "payment." Confused (and somewhat alarmed), Steve started asking around about her and, when it was obvious that nobody knew who she was, pulled her aside to find out exactly where it was that she had come from. Mystery psycho lady proceeded to tell Steve that she was there "on vacation" from where she lived "down the hill." "Down the hill, of course, was that same mental health facility that I mentioned earlier. Once Steve figured that out, and after a quick phone call, two or three facility workers came to take her away...

Following his (harrowing) tale, I assured Steve that the mental health facility not only continues it's grand tradition of letting crazies wander around to this day, but his former home in that four-plex is still standing as well - we at the agency (affectionately) call that small cluster of homes "meth lab row."

EVPs With British Accents...
So there was this pay-per-view seance last night wherein a handful of hacks and con-artists wanted you kids to pony up ten bucks for the privilege of watching them "attempt to contact the spirit of John Lennon." Now, I didn't watch this thing myself (I don't even know if my current cable setup allows me to even PURCHASE pay-per-view) but I did read a recap of the thing from AOL Entertainment (slogan: speeling be dammed, we beeger then u) which made it sound like even MORE of a scam than I could've ever imagined. Alledgedly, "contact" was made during the seance through "electronic voice phenomenon" (of course, an "expert" connected with the show "verified" that the voice was, indeed, that of John Lennon...I wonder if it also sounded slightly like George Harrison or maybe GRAHAM GODDAMN CHAPMAN! DID IT HAVE A BRITISH ACCENT!? DOES THAT MAKE THE VOICE AUTOMATICALLY LENNON?!) and I guess that this disembodied limey voice asked for "peace." of course, he COULD'VE been asking for a "piece" of something, most likely a chunk of the sickeningly large profits from this "seance" which, if it does as well as the earlier pay-per-view "seance" where the late Princess Diana was the target of contact, should gross over 8 million (meelion) dollars (US).

Now, random British accents and big fat scam profits aside, It's time to make fun of the article itself. What struck me most about Sue Zeidler's weak ass Reuters/AOL article recapping the seance, even more than the fact that "skeptic" was spelled wrong in it, was this actual sentence: "EVP is based on a belief that spirit voices communicate through radio and TV broadcast signals."

Um...No, dumbass: The belief that EVPs are carried along via the airwaves was born of that stupid movie with Michael Keaton...In theory, EVPs can be captured anywhere, not through the static on your TV...Dammit, woman! Learn to not only SPELL, but to do some GODDAMN RESEARCH! You HACK!..

Anyhow, if you'd like to hear a more in-depth explanation of the poo that likely occurred during last night's "seance," I would suggest that you listen to the Penn Jillette show today (4/25) from noon to one (Mountain time) as he and his co-host Michael Goudeau are set to forgo "Monkey Tuesday" and have Garrett, the listener they specially selected to watch the seance, report on the shenanigans (also: goings on) surrounding last night's attempt to contact John Lennon.

So there you all go...Hey, look at that! I was able to BS my way to a pretty full post despite having nothing really going on upstairs. Now, just because I like you kids, I'm gonna do my level best to get back on track and post SOME sort of audio entry for Big Audio Wednesday tomorrow but, like always, don't believe anything I say: I just lie lie lie lie LIE all the damn time. Anyhow, you all have a fine Tuesday (I'm NOT lying about THAT)...

Labels: 'de paranormal, collin crap, hockey stuff, lame stories, misguided rantings, sports, stagnation

...So where was I when I left off?..
Wife's Christmas present, forgot my sunglasses, forgot the directions, fuck YOU, Kansas, stopping to see friends, good Mexican food, big ass burrito, I'm "sick"...

Food ALWAYS Makes You Feel Better...
Ok, yeah...I was feeling better after having eaten lunch and, since we were on a bit of a schedule, the wife and I hit the road once again, plugging along, now in the state of Missouri, on our way to St. Louis. Despite the fact that Missouri, like flat Hell Kansas, has implemented an asininely pokey 70 MPH speed limit (fuck YOU too, Missouri), at least the dreary flatness of western Kansas was a distant memory, replaced by slightly more scenic things like rolling hills and trees and rivers and dead raccoons and "stuff." The closer we got to St. Louis, though, the more I was filled with a growing sense of dread re: having left behind the MapQuest directions which would have shown conclusively how I was going to get to our hotel. I decided, though, that there would HAVE to be signs on the stinking interstate directing me toward the Savvis Center and, since our hotel was supposed to be directly across the street, we'd get there just fine despite my boneheaded mistake from (way) earlier in the day...Look, I was "sick," gimme a break...

Assuming: it makes an Ass out of...Oh, you get the picture...
Despite the obvious disadvantage of driving time versus flying time, I really enjoy driving into a city that I've never been to before as opposed to merely landing at an airport. When you drive, you get a good idea as to how big (or not) a "metro area" is, where certain landmarks are, what neighborhoods you may wish to avoid and things of that nature. The hotel that I had booked for our trip sits squarely in the "downtown" area of St. Louis which is right there on the Mississippi River which means that it's literally a stone's throw away from Illinois. The "Metro Area" of St. Louis, however, extends pretty far west of there, damn near beginning just as soon as you're through Columbia. Regardless, I figured that, even without those silly MapQuest directions, I would be hard pressed to "get lost" because prior to our departure, a wise man had told me that if I could see the Gateway Arch, I'd be fine: all I had to do would be to follow the Arch and I'd find downtown...

Sounds simple enough...

As my wife and I were truckin' eastward on I-70 through the expansive St. Louis Metro Area, we did, in fact, catch our first glimpse of said Arch when we were still pretty far out from it. If my memory serves, that was right about that same time that we passed some dilapidated structures in what appeared to be a particularly shitty neighborhood which prompted me to utter the line "over there's not exactly where I'd like to be toolin' around lost." Anyhow, eyes fixed squarely on the Arch, we made our way towards downtown St. Louis, expecting at any time to see that sign which I had so expected to see, directing me toward the Savvis Center and, ultimately, our hotel. I passed a couple of exits labeled "downtown" but, sadly, no exit labeled "Savvis Center."

And then I was in Illinois...

...You Need to go Down That Way, 'Bout Half a Block...
Now, I vaguely remembered that I had needed to get OFF of I-70 and onto some other interstate at some point REAL CLOSE to where the hotel was, and I KNEW that we were REAL CLOSE to where the hotel was, but I feared that, in the absence of those oh-so-important directions, I had gone too far or that I would choose the wrong interstate. As such, I exited the interstate onto some crappy state highway and followed signs in a vain attempt to get back to where we had just been, all the while getting seemingly farther and farther away from that damn arch. We went through some pretty swingin' neighborhoods on that highway, past some memorable landmarks such as illegal chop shops, drug deals in progress and burned-out strip clubs until I finally came to a road that was marked "To St. Louis." Long story short, we proceeded to tool around, like a couple of lost idiot tourists, through some of the St. Louis area's worst territory, finally ending up EXACTLY WHERE I HAD SAID EARLIER THAT I DIDN'T WANT TO BE TOOLING AROUND LOST...Long story short, we got back on the interstate, I got to downtown THIS time and we did, in fact, find our hotel WITHOUT getting shot or robbed which, as we found out later while watching the local news, was a real possibility as we seemed to have missed shooting after shooting which occured EVERYWHERE that we had been roaming around lost.

Everything Within Easy Reach...
Once we made it to the hotel that night (and found a great parking spot in the $15.00-per-night hotel parking garage, by the way), we set about to finding which of the barbecue restaurants that had been recommended to us would be easiest to get to from where we were (since we kind of knew where that was, now)...Sadly, the recommended ones appeared to be all "out of business" or simply non-existent with disconnected phone numbers and such so we eschewed the eating of smoked meaty delights and simply stayed in...All things considered, it was a good decision because the next day (Sunday) proved to be filled to the proverbial brim with activities (also: fun). Such activities shall be outlined for you all right about...now:

After I woke up on Sunday morning and found out that my wife had taken advantage of the hotel gym while I was still passed out, we went downstairs and ate a passable breakfast in the hotel "bistro." From there, we decided it was time to walk down to the riverfront and see what manner of distractions the ol' Arch had to offer. When we arrived at the arch, we took advantage of a package deal and picked up tickets to go to the top of the arch in what amounts to a claustrophobic carnival ride (I got some great pictures from the top) and also, later on, to take an hour-long riverboat cruise up and down the Mississippi which turned out to be a lot of fun (despite my forgetting sunscreen and getting burned up a bit). Following such frivolity there on the banks of the mighty Mississip', my wife and I headed back to the hotel for a quick nap before the piece de resistance of the whole damn vacation: the Blues vs. Oilers game and the Al Macinnis ceremony which started at 6 that evening...

13 game losing streak? NOT WHEN WE COME TO TOWN!..
Indeed, prior to our arrival, the St. Louis Blues had been mired in a 13 game losing streak which did little more than emphasize the troubles which the poor Blues had experienced all season long what with injuries and questionable personnel decisions. Because of all of the losin', the team was having trouble drawing fans to the games but my wife and I knew that, since Al Macinnis' number 2 was scheduled to be retired that evening in a special ceremony prior to the game, the place would likely be packed to the rafters in spite of the losing streak and, dammit, we were right. There was not an empty seat in the Savvis Center for the game and ceremony and, despite the fact that the Edmonton Oilers refused to participate in the number retirement, everything went perfectly, including the Blues winning the game 2 to 1.

Overall, It Was Fun: I'd Go Back...
Even despite the many factors which conspired against me (long drive, quick turnaround, being sicker than the proverbial dog), I had a lot of fun in St. Louis and would love to go back at some point and see more of what the place has to offer. I was able to get some good pictures while we were there which, of course, will be featured in this Friday's Phrickin' Photoblog, so you all will get to see a little bit of what I saw. As always, thanks for stopping by - have a fine Wednesday...

Labels: get outta town, hockey stuff, I eat food, lame stories, misguided rantings, sports