7 words, 1 number
Kiera Knightley, Pirates of the Carribean, July 9.

Um. Did I say fondle? I meant caress.

A tale of passion, pain and obsession
At night before I go to sleep, I fondle the inner curves of the disc I keep near my bed. Sometimes I throw in a few scoober fakes to keep my pillow on its toes. When I'm watching TV I hold my disc near or throw it at an unsuspecting chair. During the day, a disc waits patiently in my bag for some attention. And thoughts of Ultimate are never far. I want to tell a girl on my rec team the cut I want her to make and when I want her to make it. I can't get that out of my head. I want to send Chris Royer the explanation of the stack that I just got in my Ultimate Player's Association newsletter. The passion and the obsession are clear then, no? The pain is in my leg. I've decided to take the weekend off in hopes it'll heal. And time stands still. The pain is in my mind.

Word to the wise
If you pass gas and say, "excuse me", that should be the end of it. 10 minutes later you should not seek out the person you passed gas near and explain to them that your "excuse me" was in reference to the earlier gas.

Cat's Cradle is the book I had hoped Closing Time would be.

The more responsibility I'm given, the less I have to do.

Hair today
The baldness has received more compliments than not. Course that could be due to that "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." Still. It's a satisfactory look. Those of you concerned shouldn't be. I am still lovable and huggable. If you don't believe it, come see for yourself.

Gone to a meeting
I attended my first meeting today. It was an intimate affair. About like you'd expect a meeting to be. I smiled and nodded a lot. That's the extent of my people skills.

Julie, beware
Here are my thoughts on my new shiny Mr. Clean head-
*Eat yer heart out Agassi.
*What am I supposed to run my hand through now? Chest hair?
*Do you feel a draft?
*Finally my beard gets the first shampoo lather and not the leftovers.
*shut up. Stop laughing.
*This is the 4th major hairstyle change in my life: straight, spiked, curly (big and small) and this.
*Please don't hate me Julie

That's me!
If you ever visit Chase's links, you'll see one for the St. Patrick's Day race. I was scrolling through looking for Chase when lo and behold I found me. What the ?? When I looked at the date, I found out that I was there. So everyone can calm down now. No one continues to impresonate me.

Don't tell Hoover
On CNN running headlines at the bottom of the screen today I noticed, "Whenever there's a power vacuum, bad things happen."

I like to chase it down
This Ultimate story in Vox gave me chills.

Spinal Tap Humor
My Rec team is calling itself "Stallin' 11". We were team 11 and we wear red. And stallin' 11 is one better than stalling 10. Sometimes you just need to crank it up that extra notch.

The Land of Oz
I went to Lawrence part of this weekend and I have to wonder: Where else can you see girls dancing on cars? Kisses for $1? Nudity in the streets and bars? Where else can you see 20 old friends and make 20 new ones? Chant "put your f$#@ing clothes on and get the f#$% out!"? Where else can neon cowboys, busty street signs and guys advertising moustache rides coexist? Where else is every evil righted by fish sauce and cleats hang like Christmas tree lights from hotel balconies? Where else is "forced hooliganism" so gosh-darned cute? Where else can you play hot Ultimate with hot guys in the cold wet of April? And where else would a jacuzzi replace a shower?
New Orleans comes to mind, but where else in the Midwest?

It's a fickle thing
After 24 hours of being infatuated with a 17 year-old girl that I'll probably never meet, let alone talk to, I'm starting to tire of it. I guess you can only get so much out of a relationship that consists of tiling your desktop with pictures, reading a brief filmography, and replaying scenes of a movie in your head. Ah well. That won't stop me from seeing "Bend it like Beckham" again, that is if you want to go. And you should.
How can they do that?
It turns out AARP no longer stands for anything. I'm sure they'd disagree with that statement, but it's no longer an acronym. It just is A-A-R-P. That's dumb. I'll make it stand for something. Just give me a sec...

The blog entry 45 minutes later
Or an hour and 45 minutes. Or whatever. She's 17. And she was the Princesses (Natalie Portman) "double" in Star Wars.
What is age anyway? Merely a number... and perhaps a law or two...

The blog entry now
I can't love. I only want a fantasized, romanticized version of a woman. What's wrong with me? When will I grow up? (I'm still smiling about Kiera.)

The blog entry 45 minutes ago
I just saw "Bend it like Beckham." It's a movie about sports; girls playing sports, British girls playing sports. Um. How do I put this: I'm in heaven. We're talking accents, soccer balls, and cute cute girls. Even if you scrapped the plot, the humor (both not bad), the interesting side stories AND the light way of dealing with some bigger issues, I think I'd still be on cloud 9. In case you were wondering, my new favorite actress and current crush: Kiera Knightley. I don't even know if I spelled that right, but I promise to make it up to her.

T&A
I'm not on Spring Break. The "real world" doesn't have Spring Break. So I watch MTV's Spring Break. I'm not old enough for Spring Break. It's snowing here.

It'd be cuter if it was figurative
I watched the Friday night launch of Ed. It had me digging at my heart with an Oreo brand ice cream scoop. It's not important why I had the scoop out. The only important thing is that Ed is back. And it kills me. I owe the writers of the show an apology. They're back. I don't think it will last, but at least they pulled themselves up for a time. I thank them for a glimpse into that past of Ed greatness. I don't care if it's fiction; it got me and I miss the Ed crowd.
Good night.
One parting thought: Carol Vescey should not say S.O.B. It doesn't suit her.

Say what?
Sometimes I feel like books choose me. I'm in the middle of two books right now, "Dharma bums" and "Closing Time". I almost never get into the middle of two books. I just can't seem to finish either one. One day I'm wandering around smoking weed and making up poetry and the next I'm talking nonsense, reliving my war days and dying of cancer. And someone has to take responsibility for choosing these works. It's not me.
I'm tempted to consume a fruity alcholic drink and watch TV until I fall asleep, perhaps with my shirt unbuttoned and one sock part way off.

It'll all come out in the wash
*People who say things just to get a rise should be forgiven.
*There are now 3 Saturns in my family and 2 in the driveway.
*Jack Keroauc makes me want to wander.
*People who miss Ultimate games to play Ultimate games should ultimately be forgiven.
*For Doug's sake, if I were Chris I would take Clare and Kate out to dinner and avoid an ugly scene.
*My new favorite word: "Ridiculous"

It's like we're family.
Today I met a guy who is going to join the MUtants and be a J-Scholar next fall. This spring I'll be playing Ultimate with him on Sundays. Kinda neat.
I also met two sisters who I don't believe are sisters. They look nothing alike.

War makes me nauseated
go tigers.

One day, but not today
*I won't be able to show up on Catholic University campuses and play Ultimate.
*I won't be able to bum meals from college students "21" meal plans.
*I'll have to do my taxes.
*Residence Hall food will not taste so gosh darn good.
That day actually happened long ago, but then I forgot and now I'm pretending it never happened.

This one goes out to Ryann Castle
You know all those cool people you meet in college and you swear up and down that your high school didn't have cool people like this? Well Ryann Castle was cool people and she went to my high school. I was just retarded by high school mentality and only got a glimpse. I bet there were lots of others like Ryann.
Silly kids.

Me and my reaction to change
I just pretend it isn't happening until it is. Then I figure out what to do. Sometimes I should figure it out sooner so I can enjoy the transition.

At least he's a nice guy
This weekend I picked up the nicknames "Snatch" and "4play". The things going through your mind are likely far more exciting than the real stories. I kind of hope those don't stick. The title of today's post was overheard as we were lining up to pull during Sunday's Ultimate game. I heard that from across the field and I had the distinct impression that it was referring to me. What do you think was said beforehand?

It's not easy being green. Or so I've been told
Dang it! My laundry is still in the washer. Tomorrow, if things get clean, I'm wearing my green pants and my green dress shirt. I don't care if they match. Nobody is pinching me. Well... maybe not "nobody".

If I remember right my mom used to make something special on St. Paddy's day. Corned beef? I don't know. I also seem to remember Lisa calling me Patty O'Furniture at about this time sophomore year. She thought it was really funny. At first it was.
Happy St. Patrick's Day. Kiss me! I know people that are Irish.

The stunning pace at which they grow up
My sister's Tuesday consisted of her '94 Saturn breaking down. So she came home with a nice '03 Ion. Pretty exciting.
My sister's Wednesday consisted of her boyfriend coming to town. So she came home with a fiance. Holy Toledo.

Perhaps my good looks have taken me as far as they can
I didn't realize how incredibly awkward I could be until this very evening. I'm not that awkward when I'm alone, but put me at a table with an old college chum (am I old enough to have an old college chum yet?) and let the awkwardness begin. Granted, not everyone gets to see this side of me, but tonight two lucky ladies did. Count 'em, two. Not just the old college chum, but the friend of another chum as well. Awkwardness just dripping from every orifice. Not pretty. And yet part of me wonders if either noticed. Maybe awkwardness has the same sort of blinding quality as beauty.
Yea. That'll let me sleep tonight.

Usurp Palindrome
I spent portions of both Friday and Saturday nights conceptualizing mixes. Friday was a mix for a 20-something on her birthday. Tonight required the help of two monkey lovers, Matt and Rob. A mix of songs with "Monkey" in the title tentatively called "Go Bananas". We'll see if either mix gets made. Now I pose a question to my male readers and those of you who know males: Do the males you know like monkeys? I mean "like-like" monkeys.

The leader of the free world conundrum
In 6th grade I wanted to be president. Ask Eric "Pistil-Stamen" Larson if you don't believe me. What was I thinking? I watched Bush up there tonight and that looks like a sucky job. Then again, maybe he makes it look sucky. Whenever I watch him I think, "he would've made such a fine baseball commissioner, why is he running a country?"
Saddam as menacing comic book villian or not, I still say war is bad. I'm with the hippies who think that going to war isn't the route to peace. Tonight it doesn't feel that simple. Do I live in a bubble? Does W have my best interests at heart? I doubt it. I almost wonder if he's trying to pick a fight because that's the one area he knows he can come out on top. Can't win any where else? Beat up on other countries. Still, I don't want his job.

The elevator conundrum
It is established in elevator etiquette that the women exit first. (I believe this is in case the elevator is about to break free of its cables.) So, here's the problem: I got on the elevator and two women were already on. They therefore had occupied the back corners. (The back corners are the most comfortable spot in the elevator.) With so much open front space, I couldn't squeeze between them and crowd the back wall. That would be rude. BUT, when we all reached our final destination etiquette dictates that they had to exit before me. I saw two choices: Buck etiquette and sprint like hell or at the last possible moment shrink back to the back wall. I opted for the second choice. Utterly ridiculous and yet somehow I feel that it was appreciated. Proposed soluton: Stairs.

M.O.?
My life has more bells and whistles. This week might have to be traded.

Feeling gypped
Avril, but you won't get much out of it. The more I uncover the less I like. Even though the writing/band/lyrics circumstances are fuzzy, I still enjoy the music. And hey, her bandmates have her listening to the Pixies.

Mr. Grumpy grumbles
I have absolutely no good reason to be grumpy. Yet, here I am. Grumpy. Here's some possible-but-not-good reasons:
1. I can only turn my head 86 degrees to the left.
2. The ground was wet, slippery and hard at my game of Ultimate.
3. Safeway receipts have become more complicated than tax forms.
4. The going to bed after the 3 and waking up before the 10.
5. The sinking feeling that it is once again time to "get my act together."
6. Your mom.

Monkey gone to Heaven?
The plan (before I read Justin's comment incidentally): Listen to Doolittle by the Pixies and read Closing Time by Joseph Heller.
The outcome of the evening: A very long discussion on whether or not to have children and why. I'm calling myself a confrimed 5th wheel these days and I love the other wheels. La la love.
FYI: I'm more convinced than ever--
that I want kids.
that this move was a good one.
that I need to make some bachelor friends.
that Fred Rogers rocked.

A sad day in the neighborhood
Mister Rogers died.

I prefer the prepositions
I tried that "Norah Jones thing" today. One coworker decided she needed to share her CD with everyone. So I think Norah Jones was playing simultaneously in 3 offices and my cubicle. After two listens, I'll say I'm impressed. I understand the hype. Am I buying the CD? I don't know that I am. I do know that I preferred the songs with prepositions in the titles or the refrains. When Norah says "Come away with me," I start packing.
HOOcous? YOOcous!

Dance Mr. Tummy, Dance
My lunch today consisted of Yoohoo! and couscous. Hoocous? YOOcous!

Turn, Turn, turn
Stop turning. Amanda's right, my love season is in November. I was thinking in bigger cycles... Alas, guess I'll have to get the heck outta Dodge since the love season is over. Not Vegas, instead it's Edinboro, baby, EDIN-boro!

I'm famous!
Buried way at the end of this contest, you'll find my entry. Honorable mention style!

Blame it on the snow
It's precipitation, neglected by Milli and Vanilli, but still deserves some blame. For instance, I'll blame the snow for not letting me work the first two days of this week. Then I'll blame the snow for the snowman and other mounds of snow that I had to create in the front yard. Finally, I'll blame the snow for some self-discovery and a lot of wet socks. I can't blame the snow for this blog, or my inability to decode my own particular love season. Who will take the blame on that?

Reactions
* Adrian's

1.5 feet of snow and counting.
Giddy as a school girl.

Of mice and men
A mini-vacation plan of sorts has started to take shape in my head. It would involve April, a few days off, No comments:

That's good advice
I saw "Talk to Her" to celebrate Valentine's Day. It started slow, but it only went up from there. A good choice for such a day. Why thank you. You're quite welcome.

I also read the "I Saw You" ads in the City Paper. I read those periodically as a service to the women of DC. In case they saw me and are lamenting that missed opportunity in print. And why wouldn't they? On second thought, I'm not sure I'm a real "first impression kinda guy". I need time to wear people down. So I read the ads for my own personal amusement.

Insert Tom Jones
Happy Valentine's Day. Spread the love.

I miss
FARC stairwells, Dan Young, Matt Borman, The XC team of '94 OPHS, Frisbee 4 nights a week, roommates that love me, TVless domains, bunkbeds, crushes, lemonade in the fridge, Rodger, Aaron P, the Mara dance, Spotlights, the columns, Coach Warner, seeing my sister in love, mom's meatloaf, infectious laughter, emotional roller coasters, plaid pajama pants and loon t-shirts, parking garage conversations, standing on my head, the Granby library, courtyards, Renny's pep talks, dating, dad's real hugs, my mountain bike, scrabble, game nights, the Ed crowd, the original J-scholar madness, school dance anticipation, Valentine's day surprises, road trips, milkshakes, late night silliness, my letter jacket, direction.

The cool thing about talking to yourself is that you rarely have to give context. For instance just moments ago I said to myself, "Stop. And Go!" And now I will.

It feels like a Monday.

Force Lincoln
I played Ultimate on the National Mall on Saturday. The coolest part other than the snow, the layouts, the beautiful 35 yard forehand huck (?) was playing defense. We either forced Lincoln (the Lincoln Memorial side of the field in plain view behind the construction) or forced Washington (the Washington Monument being just a bit off to one side towering over our game.)
Almost makes me want to sing our national anthem.

For the love of !!!!
*Change orange alert to orange sherbert. Cover it in chocolate sauce, but not magic shell because that stuff is overrated.
*I'm increasingly aware of my own mortality. This blog may soon remind you of the uplifting "Nausea". Then again...
*There's an under 30's dear abby at the Washington Post. The DC under-30 crowd whines too much about sex.
*Someone once told me that someone once told them that you must "hike your own hike."

The anti-vanity
For some reason all my internet browsers (no, I don't want to capitalize internet) are acting up. I can now post on Netscape, but I can't view my own page on it, or Explorer or even AOL. How am I supposed to get by reading my own babblings just once a day?
Meanwhile,I can read about it for hours. I just want to go play.

Is this thing on?
I met 4 girls last night. Let me tell you about them.
Sasha-her first cut blew me away. Then she got predictable, still very good. I handblocked "a girl".
Amy-She was tall, had a good forehand and liked to cut deep.
Cara-nice flicks
Sarah?-solid continuation cuts.

Post: My computer is acting up so Dotopia is temporarily down. Hopefully
this will hold you over.
A Brief History of Neckties OR Why’s it pointing at my privates?

Neckties, that formal staple, the only fashion option men really have when
going dressed up, is really a pretty strange creation if you think about it.
One part silk noose, one part pretty pelvic arrow, the necktie must have a
rich and fascinating history. According to my research, neckties began as a
medieval gag. Jesters, those clown princes of medieval times, mocked capital
punishment victims for onlookers amusement. In some areas the early neckties
were merely nooses cut down from the gallows. Other areas used early
neckties to invoke the imagery of a man spitting out his long red(and
sometimes purple) tongue. The particularly savvy jester might even have
managed polka dot tongues. (A style which was again popularized in the
1950s.) These sight gags were always good for a laugh or two, but as the
jester business began to suffer in a feudal recession, the “necktie”
business also suffered.

In the 1600’s another predecessor of the necktie surfaced-the puffy shirt.
The kinkier Puritan men realized that Puritan women were attracted to a man
with a puffy chest. It reminded them of muscles. It was especially popular
with the punier Puritans. There are some that still see the tie as a symbol
of a false strength. Dr. Hedwig Von Shurber, associate professor of Interior
Design at Hamburg University of Hamburg, “Zee Necktie is but a puny man’s
fashion armor. It serves no purpose but to purport to strength and power
which zee wearer does not posses.” Much of the puffy shirt died out in the
wilderness of the new world, but the idealism of democracy would bring the
ideals of manhood back to the forefront. Though not as popular as the wig,
American Revolutionary War neckties were a symbol of defiance. History
Professor Simon Santly of University of Missoula, “The necktie was a formal
sign against King George. The men of the day would wear them in a nonverbal
statement of ‘Give me liberty or Give me death.’ It was really quite powerf
ul.”

As democracy and the new United States grew so grew the necktie. The
Medieval mock noose had become an Early American revolution. Everyone who
was anyone was seen in the latest necktie fashions. Neckties ranged in size
from almost covering the whole front of a man to just a thin strip of colored
wire. The necktie’s meteoric rise to popularity was reflected in the
country’s growing manifest destiny. It was almost as if this fashion was
propelling men to take what they knew was their own. It was God’s will and
it was spelled out to men in a swath of color from Adam’s apple to belly
button. And once again the necktie returned to its roots-the noose.

Contrary to popular belief Daniel Boone was not a necktie wearer. Legend
has it that he once received a necktie on father’s day. As he was opening
the brightly- colored gift, a bear wandered into the Boone household. The
Bear seemed to be after the tie. Like a bull after a matador the bull
charged Daniel Boone. Rather than use the new necktie as a weapon, Boone
hurled the tie away and chose to defend himself with his bare hands. That
was not the last of Daniel Boone, but the bear and his necktie did not fare
as well.

Even though Boone didn’t take to the necktie, their popularity continued
to grow. Men in the roaring ‘20s loved the way it flapped as they did the
Charleston. Some considered themselves to be the real “flappers” of the day.
Anti-prohibitionists used their ties to hide moonshine while men in the
depression dried their weary tears on ties. The 1950s may have been the
biggest tie boom in all of history. Television brought the formality of ties
to a national stage. The tides change quickly though because there was a
strong anti-necktie movement by the time the 1960s rolled around. Ties and
counter culture did not get along. Many young folks found the article of
clothing to be restrictive. The 1970s changed all that as Disco music
ushered in a time of pelvic attention. Once again the tie was in fashion,
but this time as a road map to pleasure.

Today the tie means different things to different people. Professor of
Sociology, Dr. Cedric Beadle at the University of North Dakota, “The tie
today has an identity crisis. Some still find it incredibly limiting, while
others find it to be fashionable, formal and a mode of both self-expression
and reflection of self-confidence.”

Where will neckties be in another thousand years? The neck is the only
safe bet.

For those of you interested in "truth"

This was posted by the surrogate Dave

?
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.

blog hits new Lo
When the celebrity couple of the minute get married will he take her name? Then he’ll be B. Lo. As in that movie was B.lo average, or that movie B.lows goats. Maybe. Although, you have to admit that Jenny from the Block Affleck does have a certain ring. You know what else has a certain ring? The song “Dear Ben” I swear she wrote it for me. Take a look at the last four lines if you don’t believe me. There’s no way I’d leave you/It’s just not a reality/Sometimes I feel like I’m/living in a fantasy.
Concrete evidence if I ever saw it.
Do you think her kids will call her Uber-mommy? Is Uber like so last year and I’m the only one still obsessed with it?
Like Have a Totally Happy New Year.

I look sharp in my new green shirt.
Guess what I ate for lunch? Win a prize! No, really. Guess.


Your hint: Austin, MN

6+ hours of Back to The Future. Check that off the list.
1 evening of ice skating and 1 long sit in Burletta.
2 questions:
Why didn't Kella and I hang out in college?
Why don't they make Back to the Future IV?
3 bags are a lot to carry, especially if 1 contains a snowboard.
9 old friend sightings and 1 old teacher. 3 of the 5. Next time, gentlemen. Next time.

It's like she ripped off the band-aid and now loneliness is oozing all over everything.

Maybe you had to be there
My sister was complaining that she didn't know what to do with two chest of drawers. I said one could be her "dresser" and the other could be her "undresser".
My 10-year old cousin called his friend on Christmas. Overheard, "I'm glad you're my friend. 'Cause I don't have any of that stuff."
My sister's boyfriend called during Christmas Eve dinner. My family sang "We wish you a Merry Christmas" at the top of our lungs in the direction of the phone.
Clue is an underrated boardgame.
A family of losers? 11 tickets and not a single Powerball winner.
I had intended to see in excess of 5 old friends this week. Current old friend sightings: zero.
I have given my cousin Thomas Edward a new name. Henceforth, he will be known as Tedward.
Today is my dad's birthday. He gets the dinner of his choice and usually his choice is "I don't care." That's the spirit.

This morning I rode a recumbent bike with my dad and his cycling cronies. It's comfy on the tush, for sure. Probable highlight other than the exercise: The cronies and Dad frequent a bike store where 30-something Heather works. They flirt, one nabbed some coffee, it was cute. They just wanted to wish Heather and the gang a Merry Christmas. Ah.

One grandma headed to the hospital, the other was granted a short reprieve from the nursing home. We stuffed her in the trunk (ok, skillfully wheeled her into the back of the van) and brought her home. She had a nice time and it was so good to see her out. She's such a cute grandma. I've got the biggest soft spot when it comes to Grandmas.

My family rocked out to 88 Fingers Louie's version of "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." You've never lived 'till you've bounced wildly to Christmas punk rock. I'm feeling a new tradition coming on. This one is going to be bigger than my last one which involved saying "Happy ____" after dinner then convulsing and screaming "Poison!" and falling to the floor.
Merry Christmas. I hope Santa visits you no matter what you're celebrating.

For some reason this whole blogging thing wasn't working on the folks computer. I could feel myself start to suffocate.
Movie reviews of movie twos and other news
Two weeks notice Sandra Bullock. Romantic Comedy. Seems to be a ticket to Dave 4 star dom. PFFFT. Sandra has officially fallen off my favorite actress list. This movie is crap. And I usually like crap. Not tonight. Hugh Grant manages some charm, but somebody somewhere should give their two weeks notice or else be fired. There were a couple of instances where I saw flashes of the old Sandra, but she's gone. This is the dawning of a new era. Start vying for my favorite actress spot. It could be yours!

The Two Towers Justin is right on here. His "rushed" scenes weren't in the book. What is Peter Jackson doing to Faramir? Legolas, however, rocks. And I loved that they kept the Gimli-Legolas Orc-killing competition as part of the movie. Big time (pun intended) sadness with the Ents. There are some serious proportion problems. I liked Treebeard when he reached down and squeezed the Hobbits, but later he's not nearly as large. Further, Ents are not that thin. Was Calista Flockhart running this show? And the scene when they leave the forest to attack is poor. In the book it's like the whole forest is on the move. This is like an army of twigs. I will say the actual attack is pretty sweet. On Friday I would've given the movie 2.5 stars. It's a solid, decent affair. It's not bad for a tweener. And Lord of the Rings is cool. After seeing Two weeks I'm bumping that up to a 3. I just found out what it could've been. Despite my complaints, I can't believe we have to wait another year for the next installment. I'm ready now.


The other news: While I imagine Columbians were rockin' to the sounds of graduation, I was missing my connection and getting stranded in Cincinnati. Word of advice, just because angry married woman is fired up about setting everything straight and blowing out of Ohio ASAP, doesn't mean that she is the best choice to lead the troops against Delta airlines. After following her for 10 minutes, I struck out on my own, got things settled for the night and made a new friend. Tommy, National Geographic Office Boy and me, AARP Office Boy holed up in the Radisson with Delta discount tickets. Delta should've payed for the lodging. They haven't heard the last from me.

-Blogging is the new e-mail.
-If Big Brother isn't watching, I wonder if he's reading my blog.
-Some people are so judgmental.
-Are Erotic Dots related to Trophy Dots?
-I thought Tom Mueller was in the Holiday Gap commercial
-Will I still be invited to dinner parties if I don't bathe?
-It's winter. It should snow, not rain.
-I bathe regularly and I still don't get invited to dinner parties.
-There is a time and a place for behavior like that.
-You can hate Dr. Laura, but sometimes she makes sense.
-Why do teens get angst, but 20-somethings are supposed to be having a blast?
-All the roomies watched the Gilmore Girls this week. We're building rapport and those gals are the foundation.

Hmm. Very interesting.

I have some friends that are graduating this very weekend. CONGRATS! to them.
I can't believe it. I can't believe I've only had said friends for 3.5 years. The kids grow up so fast these days. Good luck, my friends.


I graduated once. My big problem since is what to do with myself without a degree looming. This weekend it's see Lord of the Rings and go home to the family.


Let me just say that Back to the Future (1-3, plus extra footage) is out on DVD. I don't do DVD, but even if I did, I don't think I could be more excited. I've waited since 1887 for this. Great Scott! This is heavy.

I found out today that if I walk an extra half-mile to the next Metro stop, I'll save .15. That's like $375 every 10 years.


Now please weigh in on where I should ski/ride in the East.
Is it Killington?
Or maybe Stratton?
Sugarbrush?
Or one of these?

Finally, please just weigh in.
The fights start in under an hour.

The night brushing my teeth felt like magic
I went to a holiday party last night. We sang pop songs, watched Halloween movies set at Christmas time, and consumed a lot of sugar. Early in the evening I ate lasagna and then it's all just a whirl of gingerbread men, white-nut somethin' cookies, Nestea, Schnapps Chocolate, and on and on. It made my head hurt. And we didn't even get to the chocolate fondue.
I know a man who once said, "She was like, (super valley girl emphasis)'where am I?' in the Bermuda Triangle." And his teammates said, "Amelia Earhart". And they were right. And it was funny. And he is the best Taboo player I've ever seen.

From the blogs of note list, this is a funny site. Even better though is this little exercise in timed writing.

It’s a Practice Date

After working the first 40 hour week in I believe 13 months, I decided I deserved a little something special. So after work I took myself out. The Tuscany chicken sandwich, the fruit salad, and even the potent lemonade were all merely appetizers for the main course: Maid in Manhattan. I’m anxious to hear what Uber-blogger K Jo. has to say. I for one found it to be predictable, cute, and not too special. My date enjoyed it though. I’d say it wasn’t worth the $6.50 I paid for matinee, but I’d also say that I could’ve watched J-Lo for many many more hours. The kid was cute too. Actually, the whole supporting cast was pretty solid.
My final thoughts on this issue for the evening involve the exchange between J-Lo and R-Fi that you’ve probably seen in trailers.

J-Lo: “I only came tonight to tell you that we can’t see each other anymore.”
R-Fi: “Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress.”


Cute, but he’s right. What’s with that dress? Was the point to make her not quite fit in? That worked. She looked orange. I mean, come on the woman looks spectacular in a maid’s outfit, in a borrowed hoodie, in corduroy pants; and you’re telling me that they couldn’t find a dress?


That’s all I have to say about that.

I went to blog and nothing came out.

The current worries in my life:
1. Thinning hair
2. expanding waistline/lack of exercise
3. never leaving the Tax Aide department at AARP
4. Dying a lonely, dirty, rotten old man

Disclaimer: I also have daily sort of worries like "does my breath smell ok?" but these are the big ones that aren't as important as they seem this morning.

P.S. At the moment my breath does not smell ok. The night and a healthy helping of Apple Zings (registered trademark) have not contributed to minty freshness.

Some things I think you should know:
1. The Gilmore Girls is a good show. 3 out of 4 roommates agree. I watch it. I like it. My only wish is that I could watch 24 first and then cool down with the girls.
2. I smelled my 8th grade girlfriend today. Ol factory memory is a strange thing.
3. I have not done anything nude since Feb., although in April I heard rumors of a guy snowboarding in his designer jockey shorts with or without a neon green cowboy shirt.
4. The 4th rule of Blogspots. Don't talk about blogspots.

I can easily fall in love with a mole on a cheekbone,
but I can't imagine falling in love with a girl connected to a mole.

Merry TubaChristmas.

I bet you don't remember when Saturdays were for baby showers either.
Awkward social situation turned into nice evening with surrogate family.
I talked with my friend Monika's sister's friend's father about a future in sales. Ok, fine. He talked.
I also learned the difference between second cousins and first cousins once removed.
It's a generation thing.
Meanwhile Christmas cards are not forthcoming. I've decided to return to Valentines. It's Justin's fault. So get me your address by late January. Look at that, I'm like a procastinator's dream.

Remember when Friday nights were for dates? Me either.
But snow shoveling will cure what ails ya.

I was smelling markers at work today. Don't worry. They were Mr. Sketch markers and they made me long for the FARC front desk like nothing else. If I had a J. Crew handy I'd tear into that sucker.


There's a song. Actually there are lots, but the one I'm thinking of has a chorus that says, "I'm a hopeless romantic. You're just hopeless." It's a good song. Trust me. I think I used to be a hopeless romantic, but now; you guessed it - hopeless.


Oh yea, I nearly forgot. I'm pissed at Maslow. You might know him from his famous "Hierarchy of needs". Jerk.

I went to see if W. had made any snow angels. As of 2:15 I'd say no. CNN was up to something though. The irrepressible joy is not back, but snow still has magic. It made work a half day. So, I walked the snow covered streets of a mostly closed D.C. I got in a snowball fight with a kid. He started it!
I love the quiet that snow brings.
Just now, as I sat on my couch eating coffee ice cream, I missed Colorado. The snow is different here, not as fluffy. And it makes people grumble, not smile.
I'll smile though. I'm off to play in the snow now.

Snow. It no longer produces irrepressible joy. I like it, but it used to make me giddy. Maybe I'm not giddy because I was hoping to get the day off work. Instead I get to take my first Metro ride in the snow. I can't see the snow having too much effect. This isn't like the first sleigh ride or anything.

What with jobs, TV and blogs, I hardly notice that I don't do anything. Blogging is not exercise. Say it with me kids.

My box of Sizzle and Stir has the suggestion "Be creative" Then it tells me exactly what to do. Ah Creativity.

One of my best friends in the world has gone and made a baby. THE END IS NEAR


I creatively burnt my Sizzle and Stir. I'm such a free spirit.

I, donning my AARP hat and "What the FARC happened t-shirt?" was asked by Bob, fellow frisbee player, "So are you a retired member of a Colombian rebel group or what?"

Well, no. But I like acronyms. TTFN

where underworld and the elite meet-It's 42nd Street

What a day! Sorry to those of you left out of the will, but the ticker is still ticking.
This could be a long entry, so BUCKLE UP.

My dreams were interrupted this morning by a softly spoken, "David," at 5 AM. It was my uncle
ready to embark on a little trip in an even littler plane. We made about 35 loops around the airport practicing landings and takeoffs. The man is good.
He's going to make a fine pilot. And he'll look spiffy with one of those thin black ties they must give out in pilot happy meals.

Top 3 scary things about flying

1. My hair scraped the wings walking under this micro machine of a plane.
   
2. The stall warning, even at 7 feet above the runway sounds like the signal of impending doom (at least the first time).
   
3. Did I mention that a commercial jet could eat a cessna and still have room for pumpkin pie?

The winds were smooth and it was fun, but not quite as fun as say, 42nd St. Silver always told me she loved musicals, but I never got it.
I probably still don't get it, but man oh man "Give my regards to Broadway." For those of you that think I'm less of a man for loving a musical, here's a testosterone-filled list.

Top 3 manly things about going to THE SHOW

1. Dancing girls
   
2. girls dancing
   
3. 
   

Great things about 42nd St.

• Tap dancing is so awesome
  
• The ending wasn't Hollywood
  
• The talent just oozed off the stage
  
• The songs were fun
  
• The costumes were fun
  
• The set design was sweet. I don't know how many times that exact thought rattled around in my head.
  

Yesterday's sushi may not have been my cup of raw fish, but I might have to make a return trip to the sea of Broadway. And I got some ideas for careers: I could be
a Naked Cowboy. I could also be in a chorus line. (Those of you who didn't realize that I can sing and dance, of course know me best.)