Time, Is Never Time At All. You Can Never Ever Leave, Without Leaving A Piece Of You

When I'm old, I will brag to my children about several things. There will be stories of life before the internet. Tales of purchasing tapes, audio and video. Demonstrations of the ability to write in cursive (Really, when was the last time you used cursive for anything other than your signature? Fifth, sixth grade? You learned it in fourth as though that was how all written communication was, but by seventh grade, everything was either typed or required to be printed. At this point, it only serves two purposes, to sign credit cards, and to give teenage girls an activity when they become infatuated with a boy [Like you didn't write out your last name with his last name. Go ahead, lie to me and say you've never done it.]. I honestly don't think my children will learn cursive. Really, I want to know how early in school teachers start requiring typed assignments. Jake, Jared, you've got to keep me up to date on this.).
In the sports realm, I will bore them of tales of the 2005 White Sox. I will dazzle them by telling them I saw Santana pitch in his prime. They will marvel that I was at Wimbledon while Federer dominated the world of tennis.
I hope they'll ask me of the utter beauty of Ken Griffey Jr's swing. (Arguably, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. No really, if it were a girl, it would probably be among the top ten ever. And to see it live, it makes you want to pick up a bat and hit until the blisters pop, and then keep hitting until the those areas become calluses. It made me believe in the goodness in humanity. I miss it a lot.) I wonder if I'll have to tell them about why Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens aren't in the hall of fame.
One thing is for sure though. They will ask, "Dad, do you remember watching Tiger Woods?"
Yes, yes I do actually. I will have to ask them what they want to know about. How he is among the elite few who not only lived up, but far exceeded the hype? More than likely, they'll want tales of just how great he was. How he was the most intimidating guy to put on spikes. Or how about how just about everyone he played with would fold in the final rounds. How he would make difficult shots seem easy, and easy shots seem pedestrian. How records were re-written from the moment he first teed off.
I'll pull up clips of him sticking that 4-iron stiff on the green from some 230 out. He'll see the best nike golf commercial ever made. (How amazing was that chip? Don't answer. Just savor the memory? It always goes down smooth.)
The boys will give the upper-cut fist pump after their first home run. My girls will give the less ostentatious form after they score their first goal. Truthfully, they might know Tiger the player before they know of Tiger the jungle cat. He's just that good. It's simply amazing. And watching him for the first time ever, come from behind in the final round of a major (Yes I know he started with the lead, but he was trailing while being the last guy on the course), to force an 18-hole playoff, there is no doubt that my children will ask me about him, just like I asked my dad about Joe Montana. He's just that good.
So, what will you tell your kids when they ask about Tiger? Word.

I'll Be Like Your Medicine, You'll Take Every Dose Of Me

Ok, so this might get a little graphic, but I had to wonder it. I'm down in Arizona and today, I kid you not, my car told me that it was 108 degrees outside. Of course, it was 71 inside so no big deal, but I had to wonder, people lived here before the fantastic invention of air conditioning. This would be the time to skip ahead to the next paragraph as this may get a little visual. If during development, the testicles descend from the abdomen because the body is too hot to sustain proper production. Now, the body is typically 98.6 degrees, give or take a couple. If the outside is higher than this, two things make me curious. 1) Wouldn't they migrate back into the abdomen where it is relatively colder? 2) In either location, wouldn't the temperature be too high for proper output and therefore make the local populations sterile for a couple months out of the year? Yep, I did wonder that.

Beyond the oppressive heat, Arizona is kind of nice. I haven't seen all of it yet, but what I have, I do like. Oh and they have all four major sports as well as PGA and I think Nascar events. I live in a fantastic neighborhood and what seems to be a good ward. Basically, I'm pleased on all fronts. And it can only get better when the DBacks come back for a homestand starting on the 13th. I'll be chilling in my seats, hob knobbing with the other season ticket holders, talking about our yachts and how we hire people solely to replace the toilet paper and start our cars so they're cold whenever we get into them. That's just what we do.

Ok, I have to say this, and if you haven't seen the new Indiana Jones, you're done reading for today. I defintiely saw it, and let's just say I'm glad I only paid the matinee price. Wow. Really? That's the best you got after a fifteen or so year layoff? It definitely dissuaded me from buying the other movies because I now remember that one. Mostly, I'm just glad I didn't get that psyched for the last Rocky because it would have tarnished the first four, which were fantastic. If you want to hear more, I've got more, I just don't want to spoil it for anyone. Word.

Running In Circles, Chasing Our Tails, Coming Back As We Are

Ok, Billy Chapel is amazing. He just pitched his second perfect game of the week! There really is no comparable sports accomplishment. Maybe if you would be able to negotiate two raises of 15% or more in the space of a week, then you could put yourself up there with him. Or, if you were able to have great dates with two girls you were into during the same weekend, then you might be Chapel-esque. That's really about it. He's that good. Truth be told, the Tigers are opening a weekend series in Arizona. Maybe I can make the Saturday game and watch a master of their craft.
I'm headed down there tomorrow. I'm looking for a place to set up shop for a while. My job starts down there at the beginning of the month. (For those unaware, I landed a job with Countrywide Financial as a loan consultant. It's out of Mesa, hence the move.) I've got a couple leads that I'll be looking into this weekend. Ideally, there would be this place equidistant to work and the Diamondbacks Stadium (Of course I'm a season ticket holder. Seriously? How many, if any, of you are surprised?) that was part of a strong ward and that had at least one cute girl for me. Is that too much to ask? The question should be, is it enough to get Rick Russell? Is it?
Guess we'll find out. Some people get nervous over this moving stuff. Maybe I am. I haven't been nervous for a long time so I don't really remember what it feels like. I can tell you, that my room looks really bright without the pictures, calendar, jackets, jerseys, and hog hats on the walls. It no longer feels like I live there.
Alright, I'll level. If you talked with me over the past month and thought to yourself, "That was a little different than normal" or didn't go away feeling better, I apologize. I've been taking things a little rough. You see, I acheive goals I strive for. I succeed. Sure, it gives me that swagger that at once alienates most girls and befriends most guys, but it has been constantly replenished by continuous success.
Well, I haven't had too many successes in the past months and it all came to a head at graduation. When I came home from the mission, I set two goals for my time while at BYU. When I left I wanted to A) know who I was going to marry, if not be married and B) have a clear, stable career path. The former isn't unilateral, so I'm not over worried about it. The latter is kind of all about me. Going 0-2 on the two most meaningful goals I've set stings a lot to a guy who doesn't lose a lot.
So yeah, if you thought, he seems a little off, that's why. Maybe I should have shared this earlier, but to be honest, I don't like sharing my problems. I always want to make people feel better about things. On top of that, really, where do I have room to complain? I've lived an overly comfortable life and really had most things in life go my way. If life is a highway, I've been riding on a glass surface up until about a year ago when it got increasingly bumpy. Again, sorry.
Well, I'm heading out to Arizona for good in a little more than a week. If any of you ever come down and want to catch a baseball game, I know a guy with tickets. Unless it's a Saturday game. Then you're kind of on your own. Word.

Nothing's Going To Ever Keep You Down

Jared and Mike, sorry for the three week absence. If other people pulled up this site in the past three weeks A) I'm sorry, B) I'm impressed, and C) thanks. Ok, so some of you may know this, but I'm willing to bet most of you don't. I have a black belt in Tae Kwan Do. I'm not kidding. For like three years, I was all about it. Not to the point where I'm wearing the uniform to school or learning japanese, but more like going three nights a week to class and then going to tournaments every three weeks. Yeah, I've got trophies for this. Big ones.
Here's the thing, I'm staying up in Park City tonight with my parents and watching The Karate Kid II. Ok, for starters, if you want to watch an awesomely bad movie, put this one in and watch the middle 45 mintues. Priceless. To whet the appetite, although is is set in Okinawa, everyone speaks only english, the signs are all in english as well as japanese and the martial arts dojo is filled only by white guys. Needless to say, I was laughing while remembering how cool I thought the whole things was. In particular, I remember thinking the girl Daniel went after was hot.
She's not. At all. Really, I'm borderline embarrassed by thinking that. It's up there with how I would foolishly bet against the Yankees making the playoffs every year. (This season is the first since coming home from the mission that I haven't made some sort of wager on this. I know way too much about baseball to be betting against the Yankees.)
AMC, in all their wisdom decides to go ahead a roll Karate Kid I right after II finished. About five minutes in, my mom, who had watched the better part of II with me, asked if that was what started my martial arts kick. Honestly, I'm pretty sure it was. That's right, a movie led me to dedicate three of my formative years to something I had no business starting in the first place. It might be the most manipulated I've ever been by any media. I loved Rocky IV, but never went into the ring. I can quote the better part of Sandlot blind, but never... ok, I so love baseball, but that was before any movie.
Also, how hot was Elisabeth Shue in that movie? No really? Watch it. She was on point. A little thick, but nothing bad at all. I would go for that in a heart beat.
Now here's what I really wanted to get to-- how come she never comes up in any timeless hottie conversation? Name me one movie that she wasn't looking good in? I'll wait. I've got the time. She always looked good. I thought maybe she didn't for a second, but then was blown away by her in "Cocktail". (Catch this one on TV. I'll just say that.) Just stunning. If it wasn't going to be 2:30 when this one ends, I would start scanning channels to see if I could find The Saint, or Adventure in Babysitting.
So yeah, give it up for Elisabeth Shue, the hottie that seems attainable. (Oh and by the way, she was 21 and Daniel-San was 23 when they made Karate Kid I. They were supposed to be anywhere between sophomores and seniors in high school. Word.)

The Perfect Ending To The Bad Day I Was Just Beginning

Let's not kid ourselves. Even I got bored re-reading that last post. Good golly, it just kept going, and unless you follow those shows, no one would have blamed you for stopping after the first paragraph. If you were to write a blog about American Idol and Prison Break, I would have bailed at the title. Like an art major in the quantum physics section or Mike at BoSoxNation.com, I have no business reading any of that.

With finals bearing down and the job hunt concluding, there hasn't been much else mulled over in a while. Yes, my White Sox are tied for the AL Central lead as of 2pm today, notably after sweeping the tigers over three games in Detroit. But we're tied with the royals, who also swept the tigers, so it kind of loses some prestige. I did however, pull out a win in the first week of my fantasy league, (Really, picking a major league team and following their stats to try and garner a victory? How could I not involve myself in this?) thanks to Pudge Rodriguez going o-3 in the last game of the week.
So essentially, I've been running on Krispy Kreme's and Monster drinks this past week. It's not too bad to be honest. Takes a while getting used to the swings of sugar and glucose levels, but once you do, you handle it quite well. You want to know the craziest, and easily the best, part of living like that- the dreams. I have no explanation for it, but they're all pretty vivid and extremely random. For instance: One involved playing a skee-ball game to perfection, resulting in something like 19,500 tickets which equaled $450 in merchandise. I was buying IPods and car stereo speakers with chuck-e-cheese tickets. And of course, this was all completely rational. The other one started on the baseball field and somehow wound up in class studying the movies of Val Kilmer. Again, it all made sense.

Here's the thing: I don't know if I want to give it up. Really, I have been able to survive on donuts and energy drinks. Let that soak in. I've mixed in a little orange juice here and there, but by and large, caloric intake has been dominated by glazed donuts and Kaos Monsters. It's fantastic. Of course, I realize the health concerns, and this is a major reason why I'm not keeping it going. The other is the financial side of it. If you figure you down one large Drink a day and about half a dozen donuts, that means you're staring at a bill of about $8 a day. Now, if I had the discipline and lack of regard for society, I could do it it cost wise. But I like eating nice food. I like stepping out for dinner, and occasionally lunch. (Side bar: I love the sticky fingers at wingers. So much so I bought a bottle of the sticky finger sauce and have draped it all over any chicken dish possible. The best so far... dipping Wendy's nuggets in it. It's no tootsie rolls, but it's close.)

So I'll have to leave this for special occasions, or wicked hard tests. Both demand such a fare. Word

Life is a Journey Constantly Turning Down an Unknown Path

The Patriots, Georgetown, Duke, UConn, and Kristi Jo. If you think your bracket and all of your prognosticating ability was trashed, you're just stepping into my torment. From Sunday the 16th to Sunday the 23rd, several of my prominent predictions came up empty. It was rough, a seemingly endless parade of failure upon failure to see into the future. It was like taking the other exit off the freeway, thinking that if you just catch a little more than half the lights that you'll save time, only to hit every red light on the way, and get stuck behind a traffic accident. Yeah, it sucked.
I have to start chronologically, simply so I know that I got them all. On that fateful Sunday the 16th, Kristi Jo, arguably the best looking, and clearly the one who had the strongest relationship with Bret, left the show. I would say she was booted, but she was given the option to stay or go. There were two girls left without passes and Bret told her that she could stay if she wanted to, or she could go if she felt she needed to. She walked. If you would have told me that it was going to happen that way before the epsiode started, I would have asked you to leave my presence and began forgetting your existence. I had her in the final four for sure. Out of all of them, I had her going as the favorite, posting at 5-2 odds. And she bails leaving five girls to compete.
Sure, she did cause more turmoil in the house than any two other girls combined. Yes, she was married and had only told her husband that she wanted to get a divorce at the beginning of the episode... over the phone. Of course, she did spend half her time crying and the other half winning Bret's emotions. To be honest, she had all the pieces that you would need for a reality victor. Great for the ratings, fantastic for drama, and very soft on the eyes. However, she couldn't handle it all, and in what came to be ominous of the week's events, the goliath's began to fall.
Wednesday the 19th: I've spoken about my passion for this before. It is deep and it is fierce. Sleep has taken a back seat to it, and I love my sleep. It's the Gauntlet, brought to you by MTV, and it is fantastic. This season was stellar, and a changing of the guard wherein many of the standard players have hung up their respective bikini's or speedo's. But what it will be remembered for is how simply dominant the Veteran team was. They started with 16 and finished with 12, while the Rookie team was whittled down to just six for the final challenge. That's right, the Vets went 10-4. Sure that may not sound impressive, but a closer examination makes it all the more impressive. Two of those losses were intentional. One of them was because the Rookies had a distinct advantage because their numbers were depleted already (They were down 3-0 at that point). The only legit loss was the last elimination challenge. It is arguable that have six members as opposed to 13 made it easier to balance the platform, but still, the rookies did it, and I'll give them that victory as a legitimate one for them. So really, the Vets could easily have gone 12-0 in non-team size dependent challenges, and 12-2 overall. Easily. Maybe they could have gone 13-1. That's obscenely dominate in the challenge, where producers try to balance out the teams.
Heading into the final challenge, it became extremely clear that the Veterans had it all but in the bag. Unfortunately for them, the bag was not big enough for the 300+ pound Eric. How he was physically cleared to do these challenges in the first place is amazing. No really, if you saw this guy your first thought would never be, "Ooh, I want him on my team in a competition of endurance and agility." It just isn't. He's not even getting drafted. Maybe someone will let him tryout and if he's lucky get a contract on a practice squad, but he's never seeing the field.
It would be like if you saw Boomer Wells walking past the track as you were training for the Tour de France. You're not asking him what his helmet size is.
Needless to say, when the first two legs are a half mile swim and mile run, the Vets were so far behind, binoculars were needed. There were five stages, and by the time the vets got to the second, the Rookies were done with the third, and by the time the Vets finished the third, the Rooks were working on the fifth. They were that far ahead. And here's where it gets completely crazy. Eric passes out and goes into heat stroke. (In case you were wondering, that's what heat stroke looks like. Inability to visually focus, decreased mental status, muscle fatigue, loss of coordination, yeah those are the classical signs of heat stroke. Short, rapid breathing, yep, that too, and by the way, when that happens, you start looking for a stretcher. Walking, much less running, is no longer an option.) They call the ambulance, and after probably ten minutes, they take him away. The Vets rightfully think it's all over and that they'll never be able to catch the rookies, but decide to press on anyway. The kicker is that they actually catch up to the rooks, and pass them. The last stage involved raising a flag, which the vets did long before the rooks, but the horn doesn't sound indicative of victory.
No Eric, no victory. Because of an all-team-members-must-be-at-the-finish rule, the vets were de facto disqualified. The Rooks take their time, and after being pounded day in and day out by the superior Vets, they win it all and walk away with the $300K, while the Vets leave only with the shirts on their backs. Un..be..lievable. It's hard to make comparisons of this in other sports. The closest would be if Colorado actually beat Boston in the World Series because it turns out, there was some rule that you couldn't use a DH in game 7, and we all would agree that Dice-K is not an exact replacement for David Ortis. Rockies would win and everyone would leave the stadium dazed, questioning how long Rocktober will last. (Honestly, had the Rockies won, couldn't you have seen people saying that Rocktober lasted from the beginning of their winning streak all the way until the victory parade through Denver? It would have been a 45-day imaginary month, that everyone knew about. Kids would have been told all over Colorado that Rocktober was real, and this would have lead to all sort of psychological trauma. If you want to find a silver lining for the Bosox win, this is it. And maybe that it will start a backlash against the Bosox.)
If I was thinking about it all back then, I probably would have reviewed my bracket. But you don't alway realize that history is going on around you. How was I to know that the biggest reality upsets ever would be during the same week as the opening round of March Madness? (Again, it makes so much sense in hindsight, but so does voting against Mr. T) No really, who picked Western Kentucky, Davidson, and Villanova to all make it to the sweet sixteen? Did anyone even have two of them going? (If you check, the leader in all of the brackets received by ESPN had all 16 members correctly, picked, while the guy tied with him missed one of them, but got more of the earlier round correct to tie it up.) Had I seen it coming, I would have gone with Davidson getting as far as they did. The other two I still would have bounced in the first round though.
So how does the week end? Right where it began. That's right, Rock of Love. With five left, all the ugo's are gone. Well, all but Destiney. How she is still there is the definition of no news is good news. She raised her voice to Kristi Jo once, and that was quickly forgotten as KJ flew off the handle. Now, beyond that, think of any other instance where Destiney stood out from the others. Go ahead. Search VH1's database if you want. You won't find one. It doesn't exist. It's up there with, "Where the heck was Jessica the first month and a half of the show?" as the greatest enigmas of this season. (And where was she? No really, I want her to win. I like Ambre because I think she's the most level-headed, but I want Jessica to win, mostly because she's short, energetic, attractive and relatively conservative. Essentially means that she hasn't stripped before, but you take what you can get with Rock of Love contestants.)
The best looking one, now with KJ gone, is hands down Megan. This is not up for debate. She's scoring a 75-80 on every measurable. Except for intelligence. Dumb as a brick doesn't fit, because the brick will actually change a little bit to make a better fit, given enough pressure in that direction. Not Megan. She's permanently dumb. She would be the ultimate test in the "Could you date a dumb chick, even if she was smoking hot?" conundrum. The two extremes are not better unified into one person than Megan.
Needless to say, I had her as a finalist. You see where this is going already don't you? Yep, she got the boot last night. Now, even though you know how it ends, I would recommend catching the last ten minutes of the episode. Her reaction is priceless and really all you need to know about her. After she is told her time is up, she stands there, silently, slowly shaking her head. For ten minutes. To the point where everyone else starts making facial reactions to it. To the point where Bret repeats himself twice to make sure she understands. Hilarious. Remember 50-cent's reaction to Britney Spears's comback at the VMA's? Like that.
Now, I'm left to openly root for Jessica to take it all, wait anxiously for the next Real World/Road Rules challenge and hope my other three final four NCAA teams can hold on. Word.

And I Wasted All My Time Waiting Up For You to Make Up Your Mind

So I'm sitting at this baseball game about a year back, and the girl I'm sitting next to is seeing one of the players. They aren't officially dating yet, but it seems to be heading that direction. She doesn't know much about baseball other than the uniforms make everyone look better, so she asks me what I think about the player of interest. I tell her he has a couple of strengths that will carry him for a little while, but that his biggest problem is that he performs poorly under pressure. He simply wasn't a clutch player. If he was coming up with two outs and runners on in a close game, I was heading for the concession stand to get my meal because he's making the third out. Like Willie Mays under a flyball or Lou Gehrig with the bases loaded, it was just going to happen.
Turns out, one time she was talking to him about baseball and for whatever reason, she decided to share my comments with him. Thankfully, I don't think she credited them to me, although if she wanted to, I would gladly say I was their author (I thought about this, and although it would remove some of the humor of her passing off astute observations as her own, it would make the relationship a little better. I just like to see those things work for people). It came as a shocker to her that he became visibly upset at this. She couldn't understand why telling someone that they perform horribly at their job when it matters the most would make that person upset. (Oh and future reference, telling any guy they don't perform under pressure in any circumstance is a bad idea. It's just emasculating from so many angles.)
This brings me to what I really wanted to address in the last post, but wound up laying down a challenge. I'm a free-wheeling guy. I take chances and sometimes those don't work out. I take risks that would give Mike ulcers (for all I know, him simply knowing my actions, or lack thereof, might weaken his immune system prepatory for an ulcer). But I do so with a degree of foresight and maturity that makes those choices understandable. I have come to realize that all people do not act this way, but rather still walk around the proverbial New York City with dollar bills dangling from their pockets, expecting not only that people will not take them, but that people will actually add to them. Yes, it sounds a little crazy when couched in those terms, but I've seen it.
I spent a couple days around people who seemed to live in the world, but acted like they were better than the world. It was a little arrogance, mixed with a little success, mixed with a skewed paradigm on things. Stir it together, and it becomes immaturity. It's what you feel when someone expresses a superiority complex. It's what you taste when you try and start a conversation and they have no interest in that topic, or any other you propose. It's what you hear when their talk is centered on their life and their accomplishments. And it's ugly.
I'm going to stop there. I have to catch myself from time to time and wonder how many of these things do I embody. I'm ashamed to say that I notice them in myself more than in my friends, and I know this is the truth for the most part. However, I have little doubt that if people were to ask if I were mature or immature, I would be the former and if there were to be a spectrum with mature being 80 and immature being 0, I would be upwards of 65. Good enough to make the bigs due to the high scores in other categories, but something that would be beneficial for me to improve.
What I'm getting at is, it's amazing how immaturity can completely alter the way a person is viewed. They can go from A-list to D-list in a matter of moments if immaturity is found. Obviously, we're not talking about people who are 16 or so, because for the most part, the ability, or expectation, of maturity is not there. I don't expect 13-yr-olds to be gauging how there actions will effect not just them or their friends, but other people in the area. I do expect it from anyone who has graduated high school.
Yes, we all make mistakes and sometimes say things that simply shouldn't be said. It happens. About a month back, I made a comment in a group of people that getting engaged on valentine's day was cliche. Then I made the faux pas of saying that getting engaged on New Year's Eve was cliche. Did the girl just behind the guy I was talking to just get engaged that past New Year's Eve? Of course. I quickly conceded that it might not be cliche given the right circumstances. (Side note: Under most circumstances, I still think it's a little cliche to get engaged on either of those days, but if the relationship is at the level and those events do come, you either have to propose on those days or before those days. You can't wait until after because that would ruin those holidays, as the girl is probably expecting it to come and if it doesn't, then she'll start to wonder why, and having a girl wonder about the seriousness of your relationship is never good. Ever. Ever.) The key is to make those instances happen less and less, and when they do, be quick to correct them. This is what adults do. Or at least this is what adults worth talking to do. Word.