?
Are you the soccer ball that rolled into a foot or are you a foot that kicks the soccer ball?

Super Bowling
I watched the game for the commercials, but the game was good and the commercials weren't. Some of the commercials were close. They almost had it. My favorite commercial was in the pregame. It was McDonald's. It was cute. It was on target. It was consistent with their message of old. Dad and son complain about their day and then son gives us a real zinger. Yea. I wanted to like HotJobs.com "rainbow connection" but it was so subtle I missed it. I thought FedEx's Castaway spoof was dumb. I guess it was a teensy bit funny, but not Super Bowl funny. It wasn't timely. It made me think Fed Ex employees are dumb, but dedicated. The Beer commercials seemed especially out there this year. Guess when you "push the envelope" for so long, you run out of ideas. I admit "Office Linebacker What'shisname? Tate" was funny. I thought it was a much cooler idea when Wieden- Kennedy did it last year/2 years ago with the "What are you getting ready for?" campaign. They had street hockey players checking random people. Now that's original and funny. The ESPN "Without Sports" campaign is pretty solid, at least it was. "Without Sports, there'd be no next year?" Thank you Nike Taxi cab driver, but aren't you going just a wee bit overboard. I love sports. I can hardly imagine life without 'em, but sometimes you need a little perspective. Note to ESPN: Go back to the shelf(Without Sports a shelf is just a shelf). That's good stuff. Some people got a kick out of the other ESPN commercial with the Super Bowl ring in the soup, but I missed the middle or something 'cuz it didn't make me laugh. The Hemi Heimlich (some truck company) was worth a laugh, but I could've done without the jerky splash.
Monster.com and the runaway truck just missed as well. I can't even put my finger on why.
HALF-TIME: I switched to SNL. Wow. The party at my house was rolling with laughter. Gollum killed! The halftime of halftime was a riot. And then they let Jimmy Fallon Situation play. "What can we do to kill some time?" Er. What can we do to remind viewers of why SNL struggles?
Finally, who could resist the temptations of Jennifer Garner in Alias? Me.

So you wanna get high?
I was fascinated by things that went up today. At Gaylan's sporting goods store, which made me want to be a YUPPIE and made me miss Colorado immensely, I did a little fake-rock climbing. You'd think that my puny arms would be able to support me for hours on end, but they can't.
At Target I saw the magical, mystical cart escalator. It reminded me of that little toy with the sliding penguins. The penguins would "climb" the stairs and then slide around and around until they were back in line ready to "climb" again. I've never seen a cart escalator before. It was, to keep with the theme, "trippy."

I know you are but what am I
I refuse to admit I have a problem. I will admit that this contest looks like fun. My best idea so far: Michael Richards Nixon says "I am not a cook (pop)" and then makes that wavey upwards hand gesture.

Go ahead. Break my heart
If I had a fifth rose I'd give it to you. How bad must it suck to know that you're fifth on the list. (I caught enough of The Bacherlorette tonight.) Isn't it bad enough if "some other guy" beats you out and gets the girl? It really sucks when 4 other guys beat you out and get the girl, on National TV no less. I don't know how much more of this reality love I can take. Way back when, Temptation Island nearly killed me and still I end up catching some of these glorified personal ads. It won't be long 'till we're all on our very own reality show.
Or, are we already?
If we are, then the government is probably aware, and Scott will be happy to hear that I watched Ed tonight. I laughed once. I don't like it anymore. I would watch so much less TV if all the women would grow their hair long and smile less.

Recipe for Peace (rallies)
1 part high school pep rally
30,000 to 500,000 parts people who want peace (your numbers will vary according to how much you want peace.)
1 part mass mob mentality
a pinch of ganja
1 part parade


Mix all together with seasoned activists like Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, Jessica Lange and Chumbawumba. Chill to at least -6 degrees Celsius. Serve with powerful rhetoric and really fun chants like:
1. Ain't no power like the power of the people/ 'cause the power of the people don't stop.
2. George Bush (or Butcher) we know you, your father was a killer too!
3. No blood for oil!
4. George Bush you corporate whore/ we won't fight your *stinking* WAR.
or fun signs like
1. Bush is a punk-assed chump.
2. There's a terriost behind every bush.
3. You must be the change you wish to see in the world. (gandhi)
Could very well serve all of mankind.


And now for something completely different
The most beautiful women at the Golden Globes according to me.
In order, 1. Diane Lane
2. Halle Berry
3. Nicole Kidman
Beauty and elegance I didn't expect: Calista Flockhart, Beyonce Knowles
The person I was most happy to see sitting near the front: Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Do men get Golden Globes? I can't recall.

Drop Bush, not bombs
I'm not exactly sure what I wanted out of that experience and I'm not exactly sure what I got. Stay tuned while I sort out my virginal demonstration feelings. Many many thanks though to Kristin's Mom for that final push out the door. I needed that.

#10
#10 on the "Things to do before I die" list stares back at me from the crumpled reciept that depicts a few of my goals. 10. be in a peaceful demonstration
Tomorrow is my chance, and yet I hesitate. Why? Don't I want to voice my displeasure with "impending war"? I do. And the protest is just a Metro ride away, not hours a way, or days, but mere minutes. I bet my farecard from this week will cover the ride. I could do something that I've always wanted to do. I could let my inner-hippy out, at least for a Saturday morning. "Peace, man." It's what I want. It's what I whine about. Here's the opportunity to do something, to be a part of something. What kind of man am I if I let a little cold get me down? Don't I like the cold? I don't know what to wear. It doesn't matter, does it? I don't understand me. I want to be fired up, to burn with the kind of passion that fuels people to organize protests, not just half-heartedly join them. I don't want to be "sheep". That's part of what's holding me back. I don't have a fluid well-thought out answer if someone asks me tomorrow, "why are you here?" "uh. well, um. I've always wanted to protest something." Bollocks.
I'm trying to convince myself that I'm going to do it, that I'm just afraid of trying something new, that's all. It's ok if my anti-war sentiments don't have the power to lead a protest. It's ok to be one of the masses. It's ok to support a cause that doesn't consume your entire being. Right? I am valuable as just another human being who cares about the lives of human beings, who thinks that War is good for absolutely nothing. Even as I sit here and type it I believe it, but the fact that I don't believe it, just eats me up. My high school journalism teacher believed in the first amendment. When he started talking about free speech, his face turned pink and the passion poured out of his mouth. I'll be lucky if I can see a glimpse of passion hanging in the crisp D.C. air next to my breath. I think I should do it though. Partly because it's on the list and partly because it's important. Make love, not war!

I bleed blue
Sing it B.B.! While I pop green olives and wait for Tangy Shake N Bake to cook.
Ultimate fans will be excited to learn that I bleed black, the Ultimate documentary, is finally out on DVD. Buy yourself a copy and we'll share.

Or a New York Minute, which I just found out doesn't mean what I thought at all. Instead it means really fast. Molasses though is still slow. And the punchline to a number of poor jokes.

That usually passes in a flash.

Sometimes I worry about others' perceptions of me.

Ultimate time
I spend Mondays daydreaming about Sunday’s Ultimate game. I try to replay my key moments from every camera angle. I still haven’t decided if my layout D was gratuitous, but it sure was sweet. Mr. Smith thinks I should have caught the disc, but I elected to knock it down once I knew it was in my hand. I also still can’t decide what made me think I could squeeze an inside-out forehand around my teammate cutting across the lane to another teammate cutting in. Mr. Cut-across got whacked in the side of the head. Oops.
Now, about “Ultimate Time”. Ultimate time is kind of like 15 Hawaiian minutes or a New York minute. It means “whenever” and usally later rather than sooner. I don’t understand it though. The Hawaiians are laid back so that’s their excuse. The New Yorkers try to hurry, but there’s just so gosh darn many of them that they end up late. Ultimate players, though, what’s their story? If I was running the show “Ultimate time” would mean EARLY. It should be like Christmas morning. I can’t wait any longer to play with my new toys. We have to get up NOW! That’s how I feel about Ultimate. I’m almost always the first one at the fields. I usually have time to run a warm-up, stretch, put on my cleats and throw the disc to myself for a few minutes before any of the “early” players show up. I kind of understand if it’s a Sunday morning during a tournament. Those days are hard to get up for. After all, those usually come after you’ve been eating, drinking (often too much) and sleeping Ultimate for an entire weekend. Ok, maybe those players can be 15 minutes late once and a while, but the casual players? What have they done? Gone an exhausting round at church? Worked their fingers to the bone switching between the Redskins game and the Ravens game? Come on people. Dave wants to play! Put your pants on and let’s go. I do mean pants. You might regret that.

Unexpected Bonuses?
*Julie wants to love me madly.
*My parents called. I forget they read this stuff.
*I might have agreed to do someone's homework. I didn't mean to do that.
*At work, I heard a song called "Geezers need excitement". Man! I wanted to crank the volume on that one.

If a hotel lobby threw up
Major furniture change here at the house. Currently we have 12 "new" chairs and 6 "new" ottomans. In a few weeks it'll be down to 8 chairs and 4 ottomans. The land lady has promised to work on a new bed next. I'm not sure I want an old hotel bed. Kinda creeps me out. It also means I'll have to peel my sleeping bag off the carpet.

cake?
Is it "I want to love you, madly" or "I want to love you madly" or "I want to love, you madly"?

Blogs and the decline of civilization
It's like I'm writing, 'cause I write, but it's like I'm not, cause I write in aphorisms and cute little stories.

Parental Units
My folks are retired. They dance. They ride bikes. They volunteer. Generally they are way cooler than I anticipated. So cool, in fact that I don't know what to do with them. They never call. They never write. Is this how they felt when I went away to college? I don't know how to talk to them either. On the one hand I want them to be my buddies now, 'cause I'm all (sort of) growns up, but then on the other, they're my parents. So I, no we, haven't figured out how to swing it. I'd say "it'll come," but I don't know that I'd believe me.

My philosophy
I do wash my hair, but if I didn't it would be because:
1. Kristin made me do it.
2. I did it to spite you.
3. The voices. I can't escape the voices.

White wine is for poultry
Remember when you fell in love with me? It shouldn't matter that I don't have millions of dollars like you thought I did. We can overcome that little white lie, can't we? It did bring us together. I love you, isn't that enough? Doesn't that count for something?

Ultimate in the snow
There's nothing like playing a little disc with the flakes falling. Ah.
The MUtants would be especially proud of me. With what modesty I have left,
I will recommend that all of you trying silly stunts in the snow, please wear shoes.
It's cold stuff.

From the kitchen
Hunger does strange things to a man. Tonight, rather than walk a block to the grocery store or a Taco Bell, I decided to make due with what I had. My creation: Mexican Spam. Take a little bit of heated and sliced Spam (a can turns out to be too much. ugh.) and mix it generously with salsa. Add a dollop of sour cream and top with cheese. Voila! Eat your heart out talking Chihuahua.

By the way, the judges have decided not to award any prizes in last week’s “Guess my lunch” contest. Three readers (including my mom, yikes.) chimed in with the answer of Spam, but that’s different than Spam spread. Spam spread reminds the judges of deviled ham. Further, the judges are extremely jealous of one Julie and wouldn’t doubt that she has been to Sheboygan without them too. hmph.

From the hormones
How about those moist lips on Tostitos ‘model’ Cindy Taylor? She’s the hottest chip model since Ali Landry.

Still in the Christmas spirit? Want out?
Check out Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris. Read all about burned-out mall elves, Christmas whores, and giving until you’re homeless. You’ll laugh. You’ll squirm uncomfortably. You’ll worry about David Sedaris.

Music reviews too?
I listened to some Nerf Herders last night and decided that while funny, they are probably not for me. Also not for me is Crispin Glover’s (you’re so gullible McFly) “Big Problem?” In a word it was “odd”. His version of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made for Walking” has been called genius by some. Dying cats could record a similar cover. The man clearly had a lot of pain and probably escaped from that pain with a lot of drugs.
Don’t buy it and don’t hold your breath waiting for his next record “Big Love”.

Special note to Clare
Yes. I meant the rest of her CD. I like the whole thing.

How a 17-year old Canadian girl makes me think of Paul and Justin
That's right, boys. Avril Lavigne gives me a glimpse into your world. I'm in no way saying that Paul or Justin is a fan of Avril. They may or may not be.

What am I saying? I really like Avril's CD Let Go. I mean really like it. I like it so much that I want to tell people about it, but I want to keep it to myself too. I feel like I have a secret. Probably not a big secret, but in my group of friends, it's still a secret. There's some Avril backlash going on around me. I guess that's ok, after all there's some pretty heavy forward motion too. So what do Paul and Justin have to do with this? They like all kinds of music that isn't on the radio. They have a whole world of hits that only a few people know and appreciate. I'm not of those people, but for a moment I felt like one. Or at least wanted to be one.

I had grand plans for New Year's Eve. They didn't happen. NYC, Atlantic City, even Wilkes-Burre, PA are all going to have to wait a little longer to see me. Drop on by and let's go to Atlantic City. I need some S-I-N.
In sports news NC State beat Notre Dame. I watched, but I'm not sure I cared. That's why I'm telling you. I shouldn't be the only one in the know who doesn't care. That's unhealthy.
Pregnant women frighten me. They have bellies shaped like giant rubber playground balls. They complain about kicking, punching and babies swimming laps. The scariest thing of all, some day soon the giant rubber ball has to come out and and and
be carried by the stork.