... Nothing like a lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon -- and some good baseball -- to ease your mind ... With our lawn mower still in the fix-it shop, combined with some rather unhospitable weather, my usual weekend yard puttering has been shut down -- forcing me to relax like I haven't in a long, long time ...
First, the baseball. So I discovered earlier this week, by accident, how to use the picture-in-picture feature on our TV. Whoah nelly, am I having fun now!! ... Now, on all those nights where I have three, four baseball games to choose from on the tube, I've got a way to watch at least two of them at the same time ... With the Brewers-Cards, Cubs-Pirates and Mets-Phillies all on yesterday, I took advantage of it and didn't move an inch from the couch for like four hours. ... And now we're doing it again! The rain falling outside has canceled our plans to partake in some of the community activities today, so here Kates and I sit, reading our books, newspapers and magazines, sprawled out in front of our big picture windows ... and on the TV, of course, the Cubs-Pirates and the Reds-Pirates ...
To prove that we aren't just merely a couple of bums who sit around watching baseball, we did get out last night to Prairie Family Days. Had mongo plates of Mexican Food. Took one of the free pontoon boat rides. Walked around the lake. And joked about all the teenie boppers beginning to congregate as the sun set ... I was most excited, however, to hear Wingspan -- a highly-touted Wings tribute band from Chicago -- but when they took too long to get through their sound checks and started 45 minutes late, eventually opening with a terribly loud, blown-out song to which no one could've possibly understood the vocals, Kates and I got up and walked away ...
We got home in time to catch the Saturday Night Live re-run featuring Natalie Portman -- in my opinion, the best and funniest of the season ... which is probably why NBC re-ran it ...
... And now, I'm presenting to you another edition of some of my favorite reads from this past week ...
Film ...
a Oliver Stone's 9/11 is a Tale of Courage ... I'll admit I was a little skeptical at first, but the more I read and see of this one, the more intrigued I am. I talked on here before about my fascination with 9/11. What's more, this film has it's own tragic story and it has an appeal to all ages...
a It Pays to Be a Print Journalist -- in Films
Techy stuff ...
a Why Wiki Can Drive You Wacky ... I've said it before and I'll say it again: Wikipedia is one the best, coolest sites on the Web. It's just too bad pranksters, politicans and vandals are so amused by wrecking it ... although Stephen Colbert's little prank was funny, I'll admit -- but it also goes to show how relentless and careful the Wiki-people are about their site ...
a Downloading firm settles global suits ... And another one bites the dust. I never thought I'd say this five years ago, but thanks iTunes for making us realize legal downloading can be just as fun ...
Music ...
a Marie Claire Editor, Readers Lash Out At Ashlee Simpson ... I don't care what kind of nose she has, to me, she's always seemed fake and too concerned about her image ...
a A Backstage Pass to Intimate Moments in Rock's Odyssey ... a downright fascinating read.
a MTV won't say how old it is (but it's 25) ... I still wish they would just play music.
Sporting news ...
a ESPN Should Return to Its Roots: Broadcasting Sports ... Can I get an amen!?! E$PN (as I saw it written on another blog today ...) seems to be growing further out of touch with its fans every time I turn it on ...
a Rodriguez's sloppy defense hurts Yanks ... The Yankees are getting what they deserve.
a It's still mostly downhill for Cubs' Wood, Prior ... Nothing shocking here. And as much as it hurts this Cubs die-hard to say, I'm not surprised either. With all the hype that surrounded both of them coming up, I laughed everytime someone inferred they were future hall of famers ... I hate it when the sports people do that. Now, Wood's career is as good as over with the Cubs, and unless Prior starts winning he'll be right behind ...
a It's time to tell all, for everyone ... Seriously. As if it's not breaking my heart enough to see the steroid news coming out now about the guys I idolized all through the 90s, I see today that McGwire is refusing to cooperate with MLB's investigation. These guys just don't get it; they're only making it worse by not talking ...
a This Artist Doesn't Paint by Numbers ... Lucky number or not, Maddux waz amazing the other night. It sucked to see him leave Chicago, but, hey, I still have my soft spot for the Dodgers, too! Go Dodgers!!
a A Decade Ahead of the Rest ... and just for kicks, I'm throwing in this one which I stumbled across while perusing the Post archives. It's a good read -- about the days when the Yankees actually won respectably, and not by simply paying top dollar to top talent ...
Life in general ...
a Are You a Toxic Parent? ...lessons in parenting.
a Daughter, Can You Spare a Dime? ... a great, funny read from the Post's Joel Achenbach. If only I had been so smart ...
8.06.2006
8.03.2006
An office survival guide
My friend Trisha sent this to me ... Enjoy reading it while I go wipe the tears from my eyes from laughing so hard ...
We've all been there but don't like to admit it. As much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, the WORK POOP is inevitable. For those who hate pooping at work, following is the Survival Guide for taking a dump at work.
CROP DUSTING: When farting, you walk briskly around the office so the smell is not in your area and everyone else gets a whiff but doesn't know where it came from. Be careful when you do this. Do not stop until the full fart has been expelled. Walk an extra 30 feet to make sure the smell has left your pants.
FLY BY: This is the act of scouting out a bathroom before pooping. Walk in and check for other poopers. If there are others in the bathroom, leave and come back again. Be careful not to become a FREQUENT FLYER. People may become suspicious if they catch you constantly going into the bathroom.
ESCAPEE: This is a fart that slips out while taking a leak at the urinal or forcing a poop in a stall. This is usually accompanied by a sudden wave of embarrassment. If you release an escapee, do not acknowledge it. Pretend it did not happen. If you are standing next to the farter in the urinal, pretend you did not hear it. No one likes an escapee. It is uncomfortable for all involved. Making a joke or laughing makes both parties feel uneasy.
JAILBREAK: When forcing a poop, several farts slip out at a machine gun pace. This is usually a side effect of diarrhea or a hangover. If this should happen, do not panic. Remain in the stall until everyone has left the bathroom to spare everyone the awkwardness of what just occurred.
COURTESY FLUSH: The act of flushing the toilet the instant the poop hits the water. This reduces the amount of air time the poop has to stink up the bathroom. This can help you avoid being caught doing the WALK OF SHAME.
WALK OF SHAME: Walking from the stall, to the sink, to the door after you have just stunk the bathroom. This can be a very uncomfortable moment if someone walks in and busts you. As with farts, it is best to pretend that the smell does not exist. This very uncomfortable walk can be avoided with the use of the COURTESY FLUSH.
OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER: This is a colleague who poops at work and is damn proud of it. You will often see an Out Of The Closet Pooper enter the bathroom with a newspaper or magazine under his or her arm. Always look around the office for the Out Of The Closet Pooper before entering the bathroom.
THE POOPING FRIENDS NETWORK (P.F.N): A group of co-workers who band together to ensure emergency pooping goes off without incident. This group can help you to monitor the hereabouts of Out Of The Closet Poopers, and identify SAFE HAVENS.
SAFE HAVENS: A Safe Haven is a seldom-used bathroom somewhere in the building where you can least expect visitors. Try floors that are predominantly of the opposite sex. This will reduce the odds of a pooper of your sex entering the bathroom.
TURD BURGLAR: This is someone who does not realize that you are in the stall and tries to force the door open. This is one of the most shocking and vulnerable moments that can occur when taking a poop at work If this occurs, remain in the stall until the Turd Burglar leaves. This way you will avoid all uncomfortable eye contact.
CAMO-COUGH: A phony cough that alerts all new entrants into the bathroom that you are in a stall is called a Camo-Cough. This can be used to cover-up a WATERMELON, or to alert potential Turd Burglars. The Camo-Cough is very effective when used in
conjunction with an ASTAIRE.
ASTAIRE: A subtle toe-tap that is used to alert potential Turd Burglars that you are occupying a stall. This will remove all doubt that the stall is occupied. If you hear an Astaire, leave the bathroom immediately so the pooper can poop in peace.
WATERMELON: A watermelon is a big poop that creates a loud splash when hitting the toilet water. This is also an embarrassing incident. If you feel a Watermelon coming on, create a diversion. See CAMO-COUGH.
HAVANA OMELET: A case of diarrhea that creates a series of loud splashes in the toilet water. Often accompanied by an Escapee. Try using a Camo-Cough with an Astaire.
UNCLE TODD: An Uncle Todd is a bathroom user who seems to linger around forever. This person could spend extended lengths of time in front of the mirror or sitting on the pot. An Uncle Todd makes it difficult to relax while on the crapper, as you should always wait to poop when the bathroom is empty. This benefits you as well as other bathroom attendees.
8.02.2006
Yeah, we're still playin'
... It's been awhile since I've written anything about the men's baseball league I'm playing in this summer. There's a couple reasons for that: 1) We suck ... pretty bad. And 2) Summer got in the way. There was Summerfest, and rain that canceled games, and days that were so flat out beautiful that I would much rather be outside then waste time rambling about a couple amateur baseball games on some barely-read blog ...
So tonight -- as Kates and I wait for the rain to come our way, and we flip the TV channels between the Cubs-D-backs game on WGN and the Cards-Phils game on ESPN (what else would I be watching on a summer week night!?) -- here I am ...
... You see, because the league is in just its first year and I didn't come in with a pre-made team, I basically got thrown on to a team of misfits with no chemistry or common ground. Heck, I discovered one of the guys I play with is a felon ( ... apparently he got dealing cocaine and marijuana a couple times. Ah, the power of the press and public records ...). All the while -- as I tried to shed the rust from not playing competitively in 10 years, and I knew darn well I wasn't playing to the ability I'm capable of -- I spent a lot of the time on the bench as other guys showed up late to games, or came to games hungover and still got to start. I also was a little peeved when I realized a lot of the guys I was playing with and against were well under 25, going against the rule set when the league was organized. ... I realize now, the younger guys were allowed in the league to boost some of the rosters and teams, and build a foundation for the future of the league. But still... what a crock.
... and at the same time, we kept losing. And losing. Badly. I was close to submitting a request to the league president for an offseason trade.
... as of tonight, though, I gotta say things are looking up -- a little bit. I'm playing a lot more -- the other night I started and played all nine innings, doing the first four in right field, moving to second base for a couple, and then playing the remainder in left field. And I'm making contact when I get to the plate, even while the pitching has been pretty darn good.
... last night, even though we lost again, might have been our best effort as a team and our most fundamentally-sound game thus far. It might even be safe to say the team is, dare I say, gelling. Suddenly there seems to be a lot more support for the guys in the batter's box or on the pitcher's mound. There's more chatter in the dugout. And the handshakes at the end of the game are more genuine ...
So yeah. We're getting there ...
The season ... so far...
a Game one ... we lost, 19-9.
a Game two ... we lost, 11-5 ... or something like that.
a Game three ... we lost, 8-5 Game four ... we won, 10-8.
a Game four ... we won! 10-8.
a Game five ... back to losing.
a Game six ... we lost. I struck out twice in this game, but what was more nerve-racking was starting on the bench while our center fielder (who has some of the best natural ability in the league but lolligags like there's no tomorrow) didn't show up to the game until the second inning, eventually fell asleep on the bench and had a little tiff with the umpires (he took a Gatorade from their cooler and refused to put it back when they asked politely), before going into left field midway through the game. ... So it was a little bittersweet an inning or so later when Coach sent me to center field. As I ran past the scorned player in left and he suggested he should be playing his usual position in center, I ran right past him, without a word ...
a Game seven ... we lost. Nope, we got creamed. ... In this one, I walked twice. During my second stint on the basepaths, the batter slapped a ground ball to the right side and I ran safely from first to second base. But I rounded second, not realizing the runner had been called safe at first base. Before I knew it, I was caught in a pickle between second and third, and quickly became the third out ... But more maddening, once again, was sitting on the bench for the first half while our second baseman started and played the entire game, um, terribly hungover. Everybody knew it. Players even suggested he shouldn't be playing. Yet Coach still played him, even while I'm more than willing and capable of playing second base. Instead, I had to settle again, for playing the last three innings in right.
a Game eight ... we lost again. Worst yet. The other team scored at least 20 runs, and by the time the seventh rolled around I was waiting for Coach to walk up to the umpires and forfeit. ... Although this one might have been the turning point of the season, if there was one. As I spent my time on the bench and kept the scorebook (... nobody else on our team knows how to do the books. You're playing hard ball for God sakes, you should know how to keep a scorebook ...), the other few bench players were lamenting their lack of playing time, including one guy -- we'll call him Joe -- who claimed he was recruited for his pitching ability. So when Coach went to the mound to make a pitching change and didn't call Joe's number, well, Joe went balistic, throwing his mitt to the ground and yelling that he was quitting. He was packing his bags and getting ready to leave when Coach saw him and called him to the mound to save face. But let's just say, we probably would've been better off if Joe had indeed left. He couldn't find the plate. He walked 'em round and round, and even hit three batters. So much that for the first time this season, the umpires invoked our league's mercy rule (a team can only score 10 runs in an inning...) ... I did, however, play an inning in center field and then played the last three innings at second base (after our starting second baseman took himself out because he had rocks in his shoes and his toenails were too long ... true story. Go figure.) And I even slapped a nice line drive to right field for a single ...
a Game nine ... we lost. Really badly ... who cares what the score was though, we had fun just marveling at the talent on the field ... This one was a makeup game we played under the lights at the former home of the city's long-gone minor league baseball team. Although, it felt like we were playing a bunch of pros too. Playing for the opponents was Jarvis Brown -- a former major leaguer with a 1991 World Series ring to boot -- who caked one over the left field fence, a rainbow shot that you could tell was gone the moment it hit his bat. On top of that, the guy on the mound was throwing some of the hardest heat I've ever seen up close. This guy finished the game with something like 15 strikeouts (including two from me) and was pitching a three-hit shutout in the ninth when our best base runner finally got on with a walk. To no one's surprise, our base runner quickly stole second, and then made something happen by getting into a pickle between second and third, which he, as usual, bounced his way out of and landed safely at third. And then! refusing to settle for being shut out, he immediately took off for home when the pitcher and catcher turned their backs to him. He scored standing up, giving us our only run, and we all jumped out of the dugout to greet him ...
a Game ten ... we lost, something like 8-7. ... Perhaps the best game we've played all year, though. We hung with the opponent the entire game, swapping the lead with them a couple times. I started and played the whole game in right field. Meanwhile at the plate, I battled to get a walk in the third inning and struck out in the sixth (thanks to a couple of fat pitches I should've wallopped but whiffed at instead ...). Then in the eighth, with us down by the one run, and one out, I blooped a single into center field. Knowing the top of the order was coming up, I decided to play conservatively on the basepaths and stayed put on first base. I watched as the next batter struck out for the second out, and the top of the order came up. Sure enough, the next batter doubled to left, and I ended up on third base. Then the fourth batter of the inning slapped a hard shot to the third baseman. I took off, running toward home, scoring the tying run -- or so I thought. Turns out the runner behind me tried to take third -- when he might've been able to keep the inning going by staying at second -- and was tagged out. ...
... And for the record -- if my calculations and notes are right -- I’m batting .230 with three singles, six strikeouts, five walks, three runs scored and two sacrifice bunts.
It hasn't been pretty. But playin' and that's all that matters.
So tonight -- as Kates and I wait for the rain to come our way, and we flip the TV channels between the Cubs-D-backs game on WGN and the Cards-Phils game on ESPN (what else would I be watching on a summer week night!?) -- here I am ...
... You see, because the league is in just its first year and I didn't come in with a pre-made team, I basically got thrown on to a team of misfits with no chemistry or common ground. Heck, I discovered one of the guys I play with is a felon ( ... apparently he got dealing cocaine and marijuana a couple times. Ah, the power of the press and public records ...). All the while -- as I tried to shed the rust from not playing competitively in 10 years, and I knew darn well I wasn't playing to the ability I'm capable of -- I spent a lot of the time on the bench as other guys showed up late to games, or came to games hungover and still got to start. I also was a little peeved when I realized a lot of the guys I was playing with and against were well under 25, going against the rule set when the league was organized. ... I realize now, the younger guys were allowed in the league to boost some of the rosters and teams, and build a foundation for the future of the league. But still... what a crock.
... and at the same time, we kept losing. And losing. Badly. I was close to submitting a request to the league president for an offseason trade.
... as of tonight, though, I gotta say things are looking up -- a little bit. I'm playing a lot more -- the other night I started and played all nine innings, doing the first four in right field, moving to second base for a couple, and then playing the remainder in left field. And I'm making contact when I get to the plate, even while the pitching has been pretty darn good.
... last night, even though we lost again, might have been our best effort as a team and our most fundamentally-sound game thus far. It might even be safe to say the team is, dare I say, gelling. Suddenly there seems to be a lot more support for the guys in the batter's box or on the pitcher's mound. There's more chatter in the dugout. And the handshakes at the end of the game are more genuine ...
So yeah. We're getting there ...
The season ... so far...
a Game one ... we lost, 19-9.
a Game two ... we lost, 11-5 ... or something like that.
a Game three ... we lost, 8-5 Game four ... we won, 10-8.
a Game four ... we won! 10-8.
a Game five ... back to losing.
a Game six ... we lost. I struck out twice in this game, but what was more nerve-racking was starting on the bench while our center fielder (who has some of the best natural ability in the league but lolligags like there's no tomorrow) didn't show up to the game until the second inning, eventually fell asleep on the bench and had a little tiff with the umpires (he took a Gatorade from their cooler and refused to put it back when they asked politely), before going into left field midway through the game. ... So it was a little bittersweet an inning or so later when Coach sent me to center field. As I ran past the scorned player in left and he suggested he should be playing his usual position in center, I ran right past him, without a word ...
a Game seven ... we lost. Nope, we got creamed. ... In this one, I walked twice. During my second stint on the basepaths, the batter slapped a ground ball to the right side and I ran safely from first to second base. But I rounded second, not realizing the runner had been called safe at first base. Before I knew it, I was caught in a pickle between second and third, and quickly became the third out ... But more maddening, once again, was sitting on the bench for the first half while our second baseman started and played the entire game, um, terribly hungover. Everybody knew it. Players even suggested he shouldn't be playing. Yet Coach still played him, even while I'm more than willing and capable of playing second base. Instead, I had to settle again, for playing the last three innings in right.
a Game eight ... we lost again. Worst yet. The other team scored at least 20 runs, and by the time the seventh rolled around I was waiting for Coach to walk up to the umpires and forfeit. ... Although this one might have been the turning point of the season, if there was one. As I spent my time on the bench and kept the scorebook (... nobody else on our team knows how to do the books. You're playing hard ball for God sakes, you should know how to keep a scorebook ...), the other few bench players were lamenting their lack of playing time, including one guy -- we'll call him Joe -- who claimed he was recruited for his pitching ability. So when Coach went to the mound to make a pitching change and didn't call Joe's number, well, Joe went balistic, throwing his mitt to the ground and yelling that he was quitting. He was packing his bags and getting ready to leave when Coach saw him and called him to the mound to save face. But let's just say, we probably would've been better off if Joe had indeed left. He couldn't find the plate. He walked 'em round and round, and even hit three batters. So much that for the first time this season, the umpires invoked our league's mercy rule (a team can only score 10 runs in an inning...) ... I did, however, play an inning in center field and then played the last three innings at second base (after our starting second baseman took himself out because he had rocks in his shoes and his toenails were too long ... true story. Go figure.) And I even slapped a nice line drive to right field for a single ...
a Game nine ... we lost. Really badly ... who cares what the score was though, we had fun just marveling at the talent on the field ... This one was a makeup game we played under the lights at the former home of the city's long-gone minor league baseball team. Although, it felt like we were playing a bunch of pros too. Playing for the opponents was Jarvis Brown -- a former major leaguer with a 1991 World Series ring to boot -- who caked one over the left field fence, a rainbow shot that you could tell was gone the moment it hit his bat. On top of that, the guy on the mound was throwing some of the hardest heat I've ever seen up close. This guy finished the game with something like 15 strikeouts (including two from me) and was pitching a three-hit shutout in the ninth when our best base runner finally got on with a walk. To no one's surprise, our base runner quickly stole second, and then made something happen by getting into a pickle between second and third, which he, as usual, bounced his way out of and landed safely at third. And then! refusing to settle for being shut out, he immediately took off for home when the pitcher and catcher turned their backs to him. He scored standing up, giving us our only run, and we all jumped out of the dugout to greet him ...
a Game ten ... we lost, something like 8-7. ... Perhaps the best game we've played all year, though. We hung with the opponent the entire game, swapping the lead with them a couple times. I started and played the whole game in right field. Meanwhile at the plate, I battled to get a walk in the third inning and struck out in the sixth (thanks to a couple of fat pitches I should've wallopped but whiffed at instead ...). Then in the eighth, with us down by the one run, and one out, I blooped a single into center field. Knowing the top of the order was coming up, I decided to play conservatively on the basepaths and stayed put on first base. I watched as the next batter struck out for the second out, and the top of the order came up. Sure enough, the next batter doubled to left, and I ended up on third base. Then the fourth batter of the inning slapped a hard shot to the third baseman. I took off, running toward home, scoring the tying run -- or so I thought. Turns out the runner behind me tried to take third -- when he might've been able to keep the inning going by staying at second -- and was tagged out. ...
... And for the record -- if my calculations and notes are right -- I’m batting .230 with three singles, six strikeouts, five walks, three runs scored and two sacrifice bunts.
It hasn't been pretty. But playin' and that's all that matters.
Why bother?
... So I'm watching my evening news (this is a fascinating little read ...) and I just saw a commercial for this.
Interesting.
... But I'll be sticking with my sleek little cell phone for talking only, thank you. And my iPod for listening to my own music collection.
... I don't understand it. Just give me the phone for talking. Don't gook it all up with these other features and charge me $200 for features I'm never going to use ...
...Then again, I didn't understand the reasonsing for putting CD players in cars, when the radio always suited me just fine ... until I got a car with a CD player.
* * *
Back to the news ...
...Has anyone else been wondering if those prophecies about the end of the world are finally coming true?
Let's see ... we've faced 100-degree heat for, well, the month of July. Gas prices are still skyrocketing, along with interest rates and the adjustable rate mortgages. Fighthing is still out of control in the Middle East. And now the media is telling us to watch out for Hurricane Chris ...
Interesting.
... But I'll be sticking with my sleek little cell phone for talking only, thank you. And my iPod for listening to my own music collection.
... I don't understand it. Just give me the phone for talking. Don't gook it all up with these other features and charge me $200 for features I'm never going to use ...
...Then again, I didn't understand the reasonsing for putting CD players in cars, when the radio always suited me just fine ... until I got a car with a CD player.
* * *
Back to the news ...
...Has anyone else been wondering if those prophecies about the end of the world are finally coming true?
Let's see ... we've faced 100-degree heat for, well, the month of July. Gas prices are still skyrocketing, along with interest rates and the adjustable rate mortgages. Fighthing is still out of control in the Middle East. And now the media is telling us to watch out for Hurricane Chris ...
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