So I Reached Out To Kanye And Brought You All My Dreams

An angel lost its wings this past Friday. At the same time, another angel got theirs. I had a dream and had done an excellent job making that dream a reality. You see, I wanted to live my life so that I never, ever, mowed a lawn. Ever. I made it through my teenage years and my mission having successfully dodged numerous "opportunities" to mow a lawn. I can't begin to tell you how close things got. At least once, I was mere steps away from grasping the handles and laying waste to all things over 2" tall, only to be reprieved.

Last Friday, it all came to an abrupt end. I was working on a rental home my dad owns, and had spent the better part of the morning scraping both sides of some 30 panes of glass with a razor blade. It sounds about as much fun as it is, but unfortunately, nothing else was left for me to do besides mowing the lawn. Reluctantly, I grasped the handle I had spent the last 26 years of my life avoiding. (For the record, I did know how to both start and use the mower. It did take me a while to realize how to use the clutch, but nevertheless, I got the job done.)

And like that an angel fell. However, the celestial balance was restored almost immediately.

Even though I had never mowed a lawn, I knew that there was a technique used to optimized efficiency and aesthetics. I also knew that I didn't know it. But Mike does. I sent him a text asking him what pattern(s) I should run. I get back a series of ha ha ha's and then a phone call explaining to frame the yard a couple times than go across the middle with a snake pattern.

And an angel is born. You see, Mike had a dream that I would one day mow a lawn. Actually, he has a dream that I'll spend my life doing every manual labor job imaginable. Granted, in his dream I'm successful and still able to hold season tickets to the local baseball team, but manual labor it is. Let's just say, he might win small battles, but the war is mine.

Also, to bring finality to things, Florida State said no, so I'll be heading down to St. Martin's in the caribbean for medical school. I know, it will be rough spending the next two years or so in a tropical paradise, but I will have to manage. The school is called American University of the Caribbean, or AUC. It's on a rock 36 square miles big. That's like Provo and Orem. Maybe some Lindon thrown in. I'm pretty psyched about it to be honest. It's almost like a second mission, only I don't have to wear a tie, can call home when I want, and don't have to worry about a companion. Ok, so maybe it's nothing like a mission. Forget you. I think it is.

Word.

Did You Forget About Me Mr Duplicity

"Paging Avril Lavigne. Paging Avril Lavigne. Please pick up the white courtesy phone for your message from jilted teenage girls."

So I was watching a show called Video Yearbook. It's on Fuse and it's fantastic. They show some of the most prominent music video's from a year, and the viewer cringes/applauds/dances along to what they used to love and illegally download. For example, 2004 included "I love the way you move" by Outkast. What happened to them? They had a slew of hits, and faded away after they made that movie Idlewild. Did anyone watch this? No seriously, I don't know anyone who at any point watched it. And yet, it clearly marks the death of one of the biggest bands from 2000-2004.

The 2004 show also included "So much for my happy ending" by the aforementioned Ms Lavigne (or Mrs Whibley, if you're on personal terms with her. At least according to IMDB. Want to see an impressive bio? Check out Avirl's on IMDB. Favorite part "One of her songs...is about an ex-boyfriend", implying that only one is about an ex-boyfriend.). She also had a solid career, but then dropped off the earth, save the out of character single "Girlfriend" which turned out to be the most downloaded song of 2007. (Really? Yeah, really. In the world. Not kidding. What type of aural garbage was being pumped out in 2007 that would allow "Girlfriend" to be the most downloaded song? Amazing, in a shameful way.) What I'm wondering, though, is what happened to the angry Avril that got her poster put on the wall of every girl aged 14-20 who just lost a boyfriend? Every five to ten years it seems someone like her comes along. Before Avril was Alanis Morrissette, who won six grammy awards for writing angry songs about past relationships.

My question is, who's today? Is there someone filling that musical void? That is a money reservoir that needs to be tapped. The closest person to filling that would be the country artist Miranda Lambert, but even she doesn't fit the profile, nor fill the need. Of one thing I am certain, and that is that there is a generation of teenage girls getting their hearts broken and being forced to play 5-10 year old songs to fully express their anger about it all. Those songs are probably sufficient, but none of them deal with today's relationship nuances. None have to deal with texting, facebook, myspace, twitter, or even email. Really? No break up songs about being dumped via electronic means? Now that is a gap that needs to be closed. If I was a music producer, I would be on the street tomorrow looking for some girl around age 18 who had just a little bit of edge, and then have my cadre of writers prepare some songs with a hint of vitriol. It's a no-brainer.

Word

Look What You've Done To This Rock And Roll Clown

So, I was given some static for not mentioning that Jared was on the trip. Here's why: I didn't have any pictures of him at the time. Now I do. So let's review the blessed time that Jared spent in St. Louis. For starters, we found the only Jimmy John's in the known world to close before eleven, forcing us to find a steak n' shake for Friday night. Funny story about that.

We sit down and a group gets seated next to us. They consist of about three guys, who the smart money would put as gay, and one elderly woman who reminded me of what Cruella Deville might look like when she hit her seventies. Anyway, we finish and were on our way out, and one of the guys asks Jared to play the crane game for the old lady. He politely turns it down. However, I over hear it, and turn to face them. Next thing I know, I'm getting dollar bills thrust into my hand to try and win stuffed animals in a crane game. I wish I could tell you I was successful, but alas, I was not. Four tries, zero victories.

The next day, we went to the Cardinals game. And it was awesome. Opposite of this photo. We gave the camera to a teenager who's gender was indeterminate. They took stared at the screen, and squeezed the trigger without any warning, freezing this frame forever. Thanks.

Thankfully, we had enough time to give the camera to someone who knew what they were doing, who took that picture. You'll notice it's essentially the same as the one above it, without all the suck.

That night, I questioned whether Jared was my friend or not. It was a dreary evening. The type that makes you wonder if the sun will ever rise again. We strolled into a bowling alley straight out of the sixties. (Really cool place to bowl. Would highly recommend it to all in the area.) I should let you know that I'm not a fan of the 60's in general. This should have been a sign that things were not going to go well.

Also, it needs to be noted that prior to this evening, I had dominated the head-to-head competition with The Girlfriend. Something like 9-1. Not even close. Needless to say, I was not concerned about beating her again. We bowled the first game, and by the fifth frame, I knew that A) I was playing horribly, and B) I was going to lose to The Girlfriend. Of course, that only means we're bowling a second game so I can regain my throne. Here's where things get bad.

I started off weak, but caught back up in the late frames. I finished the tenth frame and sat down comfortably with a 20 pin lead. The Girlfriend was up next. Jared leans over to me and says that all she needs is strike-strike-one to beat me. Now, my friends love me, and I love them. However, they really love to see me lose. A lot. Like, Jared was high fiving The Girlfriend after every strike and spare. I participated in no such celebrations.

Hence it came as no surprise, and I had done the same math on my own, that Jared figured out exactly what was needed to beat me. The Girlfriend had bowled decent, but was flirting with the 100 mark, so clearly thinking that she would get more than 20 in the tenth was a bit extreme. I figured 20 was the best she would do and we would walk away in a tie. She rolls the first ball, and its a strike. No big deal. I'm a little nervous, but even blind squirrels find nuts every now and then. The second ball gets rolled, and again all ten drop. Now I'm bewildered. I know that she has rolled a gutter ball before, but why would she do anything other than just safely roll it down the middle. Accepting a good loss, I already had my shoes off when she let the third ball go. What does she do? Does she go down the middle and pick up six or seven? No. Of course not. She picks off the ten pin and the ten pin only. Strike-Strike-One. To win by one. Simply beside myself. The other four going nuts. Again, all my friends love to see me lose. This sick turn of fortune over shadowed Jared's 170 or so, and everyone remembered the XX1 that was recorded. So much so that I was texted it. Twice. I wanted no part of anything that had to do with that episode.

Coolest statue I've ever seen. If they had miniatures, I would have one already. Even the horse was fat. Loved it.

Word.

But You've Got To Learn To Reach Out There And Grab It

Just got back from a great trip to St. Louis. Quite a whirlwind thanks to an assortment of activities and dining locations. Big kudos to Brett and Brittney for not only chaffeuring us around the town, but showing us the places otherwise left unseen by casual vacations. I don't normally do this whole picture show thing. Mostly because I don't normally take pictures. However, Brittney has sent me a little over a dozen, and The Girlfriend has a host of them that I'll get from her later. Hence, I'll share those from my sister now, and the rest later.

So we went to the Arch, but there was quite a line. Needing to kill roughly an hour, we went to the museum of Missourian history attached to the Arch. Let's just say, don't change plans to attend this place. It was quaint and informational, but could have been infinitel better if they would just let you ride the Bison, or other assorted display animals. Where's the harm in that? I say none.

Something about the arch, for those of you that haven't been. If you have any claustraphobia, avoid this site. You ride up in a cylinder on its side that can't be more than four feet deep and six feet in diameter. With four other people. Up 60 stories. To a railway car with tiny windows. That sways in the wind. Stuffed with 80-100 people. Nightmare waiting to happen.

Luckily, neither of us were claustraphobic, so it was great. We then traipsed over to Soldier's Monument for Rib Fest. I know. A celebration of meat on a bone, how could I not attend. Easily, the best ribs I've ever had. Hands down. Fantastic. Should have figured out how to have them mailed to me.

Ok, let's be real. Like I would plan a vacation during the summer of fall to some city that didn't have a ballclub, or that I would go there and not attend a game. Really? Do you not know me? I planned St. Louis for two reasons. One- My sister lived there, and I've never visited her since she moved there. Two- The Cardinals were in town that weekend. No brainer really. Nice to see the Royals get beat.

Best, maybe second best to the game, part of the trip was the various dining locations Brittney and Brett took us to. I have this thing. When I travel, I refuse to go to chain restaurants unless I have to for safety or sanitary reasons. Why go to some new place if you're not going to try the local cuisine? Seems like a bit of a waste to me. Knowing this, we never went to a place that had more than a handful locations, and most of those were still in town. Perfect. Great food all over that town. Big ups to the local recommendations.

Word.

Inhale, Exhale, Heard Your Clientele Doing Well

Next name that I'm crossing off the list of people I saw play: Albert Pujols. Tomorrow, if you're in the St. Louis metropolitan area and feel like spending some time at a premiere sporting event, you can join me, the girlfriend, the sister and Jared at the Cardinals-Royals game, cheering wildly for the home team.

Ok, I need to clarify a little. I have already seen The Machine play. But it was back in his rookie season of 2001. I was in San Francisco and by happenstance the Giants were playing them over the same weekend. So yeah, in one game, I saw McGwire, Bonds, and Pujols.

Now it is hard to say that I didn't see him in top form, considering he's been ridiculously, consistently good since he laced it up the first time, but now he is simply amazing. Why pitchers pitch to him I'll never know. In all honesty, I think I would let Santana pitch to him, and that's about it. Everyone else, just roll it four times. He will beat you. He's just that good. And so help me, if he test positive, it would just make me sick.

Which brings me to Manny. Easily, his positive result was the most painful to take. I hoped that we had turned the corner and the steroids era was either A) coming to a close, or B) fading back into the shady background. And either is fine by me. No really. I take them both as the same, and have no particular preference. As long as I don't have to hear about it, I'm fine with it. Let it die.

Word.

It's Amazing, I'm the Reason, Everybody's Fired Up This Evening

So I have a more pressing point that I will spend the bulk of this post addressing, but first I feel obligated to posit the following theory:


Tiger is on the decline and will not eclipse Jack Nicklaus's record of 18 career majors.


Now, some might say this is premature. And it likely is, but I'm a man who is apt to go out limbs, prone to leap without looking, (For the sake of all things good and holy, go watch Star Trek. I'm by no means a trekkie, but that movie was absolutely phenomenal. It went perfectly right by staying away from the intricacies about how warp drives work or how time-space is woven, and stayed with simple characters following a simple plot. There's a good chance I'll catch a matinee sometime this week. You should too.) and so I have made some early calls. However, in the first couple months of this PGA season, I am yet to see anything resembling the Tiger of old. His shots are erratic. His focus is shaken, and his competitive drives seems diminished. I hope he re-tools his swing, but even that might not be enough. Remember, he went through essentially reconstructive knee surgery. This is not a hang nail. It's the knee that made Augusta lengthen the course. Countless athletes are forced to hang it up because they can't come back like they were.

Thankfully for Tiger, his B game is better than 95% of the tour's A+ game, so he doesn't need to come back full strength to win, but I don't think he'll come back enough to win another five majors. I simply don't believe it.


But here's what I wanted to spend some time on. I was watching tv with the girlfriend, and on came the trailer for "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past". She turned and said something to the effect of, "that looks like a good movie. We should go watch it." I looked to her and said that if she wanted to go see it, that that was great. I however, would not be sitting next to her. She was a little dismayed, so I had to tell her why. "I'm done with Matthew McConaughey romantic comedies. I've seen all he has to offer, and I am not particularly fond of it. I'm done with him."


And I am. I really am. I loved How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, but all of his other efforts are weak at best. As far as I'm concerned, his talent well has ran dry. Obviously, to say I wouldn't go to the movies with the girlfriend wasn't for real, but she believed it, (and might be a little upset that I'm saying now that I would have actually gone to it with her. Conveniently, I was out of town for it's release weekend, so I never had to deal with the issue, but I clearly have given myself a new issue to deal with) and hence, went to see it with a friend. I don't think I'll watch it at all. Possibly ever.


This leads me to the following two lists: the actors who's movies I will never watch, and those who's I will always watch. The second one, regretfully for my wallet, is significantly longer. This is because actors who I don't like, tend to be poor actors, and quickly wind up unemployed. Regardless, I feel it good to put these lists out there as well as a couple of guys who are teetering on the edges of these lists. And for clarification, these are all time dependent, meaning I will only avoid/attend their movies released from now on.

The Matthew McConaughey Miserables:

Matthew McConaughey, Sylvester Stallone, Johnny Depp, Jordana Brewster (she is horrible, and not that hot when compared to other hollywood-ites. She would blow normal people away, but she has set herself apart from normals and has done so to her detriment), and Sarah Jessica Parker.

Those who just might fall in: Hugh Grant (show me something new), Eva Longoria (see Brewster above), Kevin Costner (his baseball movies are keeping him out), Jessica Biel, and Will Ferrell (To his credit, he always delivers what you expect him to, but that's it. He's going to have a couple of lines from each movie that people are going to quote for months, but that's mostly because of it's non-sensical nature. He seems like a less intelligent Vince Vaughn, which says something. He has one character, and I'm quickly getting tired of it.)


I simply don't enjoy the product these people put out.


The Harrison Ford All-Stars:

Harrison Ford (Although that last Indiana Jones really hurt him), Will Smith (he gets my $8.50 without question), Simon Pegg, Matt Damon, Tom Cruise (I don't care if he's crazy, he's great on the screen),Leo DiCaprio, Justin Long, Jennifer Aniston and Julia Roberts.


On the fringe: Shia LeBeouf (did he make an Even Stevens movie, because if so, that might his only blemish on an otherwise impressive resume), Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Reese Witherspoon and Christian Bale.


Sure, they may not be perfect, but they're pretty close. I do love them, and I support them with my finances.

Word.

Blame It On The Goose

Watching Tommy Boy, and almost laughed off the couch during the opening scene where that fat kid who only has like five lines drills the sliding glass door. How awesome is this movie? I say a solid 9.8 out of ten. Still the funniest movie I've ever seen. I sure do miss Chris Farley. Nobody could fall through a coffee table like him.
So, two weeks into the season, and I'm already embarrassed I picked the Yankees to go beyond September. Looks like another season with fingers crossed over Phil Hughes's development.
Let the world rejoice with the resuming of Real World/ Road Rules: The Duel. It looks like another season of top notch competition and sluttery. My favorite part of this season, the fact that Bill Simmons dedicates about 20 minutes of his weekly podcast to discussing it. I was driving to Tallahassee and absolutely dying listening to it. Honestly, laughing so hard I was slapping the steering wheel and wiping away tears. Priceless.
Which I guess brings me to the most pivotal event of the past two weeks for me. I had an interview with FSU's medical school. I think it went really well, but won't find out until the end of this week at the earliest, and about a month from now at the latest. If I don't get accepted there, I have been accepted to the American University of the Caribbean School of Medicine, and will start there in the fall. It's a good school, and is on the island of St. Maartens, which I'm told is lovely. Hopefully though, I'll get into the FSU and not have to worry about going abroad for school.
Wow, this has been pretty incoherent and disjointed. Mostly, I'm slapping something up here because my girlfriend asked me to. She's awesome, so I'm willing to forgo my typical writing process in order to get this posted. Enjoy.
Word.