Come on baby let's retire
I got my AARP membership today. How's that for service? I can't wait to start using my discounts. In my retirement I plan to read Mental Floss, since that wish was granted by my Auntie Moose(she's a regular blog reader it seems) and Uncle Roger. Chris seems to have a strange desire to mat me. I can only assume he and I no longer have the same frame of reference. And Kristin, there are something like 26 shopping days left... 'course with my discounts of up to 20%, it hardly seems fair to have a wish list at all.

Crazy drunk drivers
That's what the bum says when Michael J. Fox comes BACK TO THE FUTURE, which is now very much the past.
I spent a lot of my day in the studio watching "them" photograph stupid props for a poster. It was cool for a while, but I can only have so many opinions about a coffee mug that was moved 3 inches before I run out of opinions. It was almost like being part of something advertising though. Almost.
Great Scott.

Buy now. Pay later
In case you are shopping for my birthday present already I would like:
a banjo, a kilt, a cribbage board, a Blink-182 CD, a book-maybe called The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven and maybe not, a subscription to Mental Floss,
new pants, banjo lessons, a trip, a giant frame that I can walk through, cleats, someone to throw the disc with, a state-of-the-art pencil, mmmmmm. cookies, a book definitely a book, and some music I lika de music- Bluegrass Country? Zydeco? don't be afraid to expose me to new things I lead a very sheltered life. A visit, a piece of pie,...

Somewhere between
crotch holes growing to unmanageable size and roast beef hash patties, I managed to fit in both my first conference call (zzzzzz) and my first meeting with creative services. My pappy always said that those quarterly financial reports would make a dandy place for my advertising skills, maybe he was right. That's not what I was doing though. I was back-up to a coworker trying to get a designer to do some freakin' designing. We'll see how that works out. The calendar keeps filling up. The job becomes harder to escape. I went to work happy though and I felt guilty. It's ok to like going to work. Just don't tell the pranksters. They'll serve you electric kool-aid and make you walk through a giant frame. So we all have the same frame of reference. Thanks T. Wolfe.

What a trip, man.
It's been awhile as some of my more impatient readers pointed out, but I'm back to bore you now. Here's a little look at my trips by the numbers.
*9 different airports. Cleveland's had the coolest artwork.
*8 bachelorette parties seen in Austin, 5 in a single bar. James and I decided that there are plenty of beautiful women in Austin, but you better hurry because they are all getting married.
*13 (tied)- Leadbelly's place at Nationals.
*15-13 Stanford women edged out MIT in a thriller women’s final.
*15-? Wisconsin annhilated Oregon.
*2 Ultimate games I've seen in a stadium. Ooh. Ahh.
*6th- the “cool” street in Austin.
*Bourbon St. is not a number.
*7 drink offers I turned down
*39 average age of women I danced with on Bourbon St.
*Lots- of things I found out about my coworkers that I probably shouldn’t have.
*90-95 age that I'll live according to the palm reader.
*1 items consumed from the mini-bar charged to the room.
*2 kingsize beds in the last 2 weeks.
*a gazillion - other blogworthy thoughts that just didn’t quite make the cut for one reason or another but may trickle in later

The Adventure continues
Details in June...

Blah.
My grandma died Friday night. She taught me how to play poker. I'm pretty much ok. I'm just stressed a bit about when I should fly out of here to go to the funeral. That's the problem with having a job.
It's raining, it's cold, and the Matrix wasn't very good. It's been a particularly somber weekend. I want dinner.

Got a haircut, got a real job
Well, I did it. After complaining for weeks that my life has been on pause, I finally get to Play. I got a job! Starting Monday I'm a Program Assistant for AARP Tax-Aide. On Friday, I'm taking my first vacation day to go to Austin, Texas to see my other College Ave. roommates and some good old-fashioned College Nationals Ultimate. (And Kate if all goes well.) Then on Tuesday I take my first business trip to N'awlins. Woo. Doggie. No wonder people get jobs.

What's the deal..
with D.C. potato salad? Where I come from Potato Salad is yellow and of questionable shape. Here it looks like potato. No good. I want unnaturally yellow potato salad. No more of this Capital city creee-ap.

Austin?
Austin, Massachusetts?

Near run-ins with the almost famous
The past few days has just been filled with fame...
*My friend Rob ran into Nathalie Portman on campus in N.H. He was brave enough to talk to her.
*I met a guy who played at Worlds Ultimate. He was lazy enough to let me hand-block him and sky him. He had poor spirit and was my new nemisis until he asked me to play on his team.
*Today while eating my lunch of fried shark I eavesdropped on the proud father of a future star. You’ve seen his kid in Pizza Hut commercials and soon you’ll see him in a movie with Darius Miles, Erica Christenson (sp?) called “Perfect Score” We all expect very big things. I just wish he would’ve shut up for 10 seconds so I could think my own thoughts during my solo lunch. He’s on his 4th Volvo you know. 3 in row, one in graduate school...

And the plot thickens
If you aren't going to sleep enough and you aren't going to exercise, eventually it will catch up with you. I guess today was my day. I still got asked to play on a Coed team Memorial Day weekend. See title.

Do I?
There is something about Arlington, VA that makes me want to participate in the mating rituals of my species.

No regrets. Ok not many
Check it! That's my buddy Rodger doing OSU's scoring (message 11). Nationals baby! I could've been studying junk and using up my eligibility with that gang, but I'm living it up with the old folks and trying to win a Rec league instead. All the way OSU! All the way boys. Football and Ultimate in the same year. Why the heck not?

Can’t explain it
I went to a party Sat. night. I’m not a party guy. I thought this one would be different. It was an Ultimate party and there was free pool. It was not different. Even in a room where everyone shared my favorite talking point-Ultimate, I still couldn’t find a place to start a conversation. Beer and noise are my kryptonite.
Cut to the next day. Surround myself with basically the same people, but this time I’m in a field and conversation comes second to the actual game of Ultimate.
In our very first game I had one of those great one on one battles going. I got a D on him. He got a D on me. He called a foul. I contested it. And the play was done over. I was wrong, but he treated me with respect. I burned him. He burned me. And all through the game we battled it out. It was one of those occasions when opponents bring out the best. My team snuck away with the victory, but that’s less important to me than the rest of the story.
And the post-game story was interesting too. In between games I struck up a conversation with Chip, my new rival. As I walked away he said to me, “I have an extra skirt if you’re interested.” I thanked him and said maybe I’d find him later. A bit later I did find him and I borrowed a beautiful blue kilt. I wore it like a Scotsman should, perhaps a backwards Scotsman, but still a Scotsman. And it was glorious, probably less so for the spectators. From that point on, I talked it up with my teammates. I joked, I laughed and I didn’t care. It was my kind party.

My sister asked me an interesting question that I still can’t answer. “Why did he offer you a skirt in the first place?” It didn’t occur to me, but that is an interesting question. Chime in if you read all this, but don’t forget that skirt wearing in Ultimate is an accepted practice. I like to think it’s because my Spirit was visible.

As graduation approaches people start to dispense advice. Here at Dotopia, I'm no different. In honor of all those readers graduating soon, already graduated, and even those of you who think graduation is for punks, I give you All I need to know I learned from punk music
*Being grown up isn’t half as fun as growing up...The the only thing that matters is just following your heart and eventually you’ll finally get it right.
*That’s the point. I won’t think about nothing, now I’ve got to do something else.
*ROCK. It’s what we’re all about. It’s what we live for. Come on and shout it out.
*Someone’s got to lose when someone wins. Look at the world you’re livin’ in.
*You’re not alone.
*Go on and take it off. TAKE IT OFF!
*Living so free is a tragedy, when you can’t be what you want to be.
And finally although it isn’t punk, it’s very important advice from Carolyn Hax, “Nothing is better when it rules out a moon bounce.”

And this special heartfelt, nonpunk message from me, "Make me proud, but do it your way."

Nice shoes
Here's the new D.C. pick-up "line". Me: Do you read the City Paper?
CG(cute girl): No.
Me: Too bad. They have these "I saw you" classifieds and now you'll never see the one I put in about you.
or
CG:yes.
Me: Save me 3 dollars and don't make me put an "I saw you" ad in next week's paper.

I know. I know. Who can resist?

I'm flying, Jack
I'm feeling particularly antsy. Overtime isn't helping. The free southern peach Ben and Jerry's ice cream didn't hurt, but it didn't last long. Take me away. To a place where injuries heal, extra work disappears and insurance isn't twice as expensive.

I listen to Bluegrass Country everyday now. I need a banjo.

It's my life
If life is a choose your own adventure, I need to stop picking the same one every day.

to laugh, or to cry?
My grandma claims to have thrown a party this past weekend, but she didn't invite anyone because she couldn't get a hold of them. She also claims to have been kidnapped by the Mafia.
My Sociolgy teacher claimed there is no Mafia.

strange desires
If I had a banjo right now, I'd be playing it.

Sure, Dave, that'll be the day
Know how blogger introduced that feature so you could call into your blog from a phone and post? Well, why stop there? I say connect a button through your neurons that goes off whenever you press your thumb and forefinger together so you can blog as soon as you think it. How cool would that be? No longer would you get these edited, scripted posts. You'd have the real stuff. Uncut and unfiltered, or at least more uncut and unfiltered. Although, I get the feeling that Clare doesn't leave out much on American Idol days anyway. Best of all THINK of the hilarity when people posted by accident. That girl is kinda cute. She doesn't have a wedding ring. Her nose is kinda big. I wonder if I have any frozen pizza left. I really have to pee. I think I do have pizza, whoa, was that my stop? See what I mean!

I interview tomorrow.

You can say that again
but you don't have to.
That's the best Secretaries' Day I've ever had. Cookies, certificates, I even found out what the whole nine yards meant. Then, I topped it all off with some 17th century Dutch Art.

Big Time?
Lunch, on the company dime

The non-moss gathering pebble
*I applied for a job in the department I've been temping for six months. Cross your fingers. Cross your toes.
*After work today I figured if I can't exercise, I can at least be a tourist. Post Office Pavilion. April 29th is Ben and Jerry's Free Cone Day.
*Today is Kim's birthday. After 6 years of being pals with her, I finally tried the ketchup and peanut butter sandwich. I guess you're supposed to dip the pb sandwich in the ketchup, but I can't imagine that changes much. It's not as bad as it sounds, but I'll stick to jelly.
*2 games of mini-golf is a nice way to celebrate Easter. Find the symbolism. I can't.

3..2..1..Contacts
I was very pleased yesterday when this statement came out of my mouth, "The worst thing about glasses is when my face hits the ground, THEY FALL OFF!" It's just so true.

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.