Thursday, April 28, 2005

Chris exposed in headline shock!

  • Along with the simple ego-massaging joy of the slogan generator, I am also amused by that headline-style text. It seems to make random statement funnier:
    I'm Not Wearing Pants

    -or-
    Lobsters Are Our Enemies

    -or-
    Paula Abdul Is A Druggie

    Actually, that last one is probably true.
    If I had any legitimate HTML skilz, I would redesign my blog to look like a British tabloid and every post would have a sensational title.

  • Do those come standard with the car?

  • "Hey, what should we name this elephant?"
    "Not sure. It should be a name that recalls the majesty and power of the elephant. Something that harkens to its native and exotic territory."
    "Right. And whatever we name it, it should not be something that 13-year-old English boys will laugh at."
    "Definitely. Hey, I think I've come up with the perfect name."

  • I always appreciate outside-the-box thinking. So how could I not be a fan of a guy who runs a church that doubles as an auto-parts store?

  • Ugh. So, just this once they (the ubiquitous "they") managed to not screw up an Americanized version of a British show and it was actually worth watching. So worth watching, it turns out, that it appears most Americans are too stupid to watch it and it is likely to be cancelled. Damnit. This is going to put a serious dent in my fantasies about Pam.

  • Of local interest -- another desperate attempt to make Minneapolis hipper than it actually is by reporting on the Minneapolis scene. The blog says "Twin Cities," but St. Paul is usually wholesale ignored by these kinds of things. If you live in St. Paul, you may as well live in Moscow, as far as the Minneapolis-St. Paul scenesters are concerned. Our restaurants are better, our downtown is more attractive, our drivers aren't shit and we've got lower crime -- clearly we are very uncool.
  • Yes. Yes I do

    Chris Makes Everything Better.

    Smoky mountain rain keeps on fallin'

  • Is it just me, or does American Idol's Anthony Federov look a lot like Prince Willem-Alexander of the Netherlands?

  • Man, whatever happened to Ronnie Milsap? I think perhaps he was reborn as Marty Stuart. My knowledge of country music's past and present is frighteningly broad. Don't make me throw down the Charley Pride card.

  • I am freezin'. I had the pleasure of working from home today, which would normally be a good thing, but the apartment complex has already shut off the radiators until autumn. As a result, I spent my day wrapped in a blanket like some old lady, constantly blowing into my hands. Presently the temperature in my apartment is a comfy 56 degrees.

  • You don't know what Esther looks like, which is a shame, because that probably means you can't visualize the dream I had of her last night.
    She walked into my apartment, collapsed on the couch and shouted: "Christ on a pogo, I'm exhausted! Get me some Snackwells and a pack of cigarettes. You'll have to put the cigarette in my mouth and light it for me, honey -- I refuse to move my arms."

  • I really like the idea the idea of the Airbus A380. Specifically, I like the idea of having a bar in a plane. Traveling from, say, Las Vegas to London would be considerably more enjoyable if I could get up and wander around in the on-plane pub. I am sure, however, that capitalist pursuit will fast bastardize the massive plane and make the flying experience suck just as much as it does on smaller planes.

  • Yeah, that is perplexing. And a bit gross.

  • Perhaps I'm missing something here, but is it really very wise to do this?
    "I'm here illegally."
    "Really? Thanks for saving us the trouble of having to find you. Get in the van."
  • Tuesday, April 26, 2005

    Google image searching my blogroll

    I am out of sorts today and can't be bothered to write a legitimate post, so instead I've typed the names of people in my blogroll into a Google image search. Here's what I've come up with:

    Astrid:


    Bryce:


    Charlotte:


    Cheeky:


    Crystal:


    Dave:


    Eilís:


    Esther:


    Gene:


    Greg:


    Jenny:


    Kari:


    Lindsay:


    Linus:


    Lucy:


    Meaghan:


    Mr. Phin:


    Omega:


    Thomas:


    Willow:

    Combined weight: 300 lbs.

    I can't stop laughing at this picture:

    Stop hitting me; vote Labour

  • Note to self: Read your work schedule.
    Failure to do this will result in having to work an additional two hours on a day when you really didn't want to show up in the first place.

  • I realized today that when Britain holds its election next week, it will be the first election since 1997 that I will not be in the country. Perhaps, to ensure a third victory, Blair should fly me out there.
    Has anyone else noticed that when Blair defends his policy he sounds a lot like that kid on the bus who is being bullied: "Why are you hitting me? What did I do to you?"

  • As part of the duties performed for my benevolent employer, I read and reply to more than 250 e-mails a day. As such, this is bad news for me.
    (Thanks Diego for the link)

  • I think my wife and I deserve some sort of prize for the fact that we burn through a bag of Dutch Crunch kettle chips every week.

  • I spent a lot of my day Monday listening to Van Morrison's "Into the Music" CD. It arrived in the mail this morning from Amazon.
    This one included, I own 14 Van Morrison CDs. And I realize that saying this makes me 59 years old, but he is -- across the board -- my favorite musician. Van Morrison's music helped me score with my wife when all my other attempts to woo her had failed. But any Van Morrison aficionado can tell you that I am woefully lacking when it comes to Van Morrison's discography. There are still 20 releases that remain unbought on my part. That's because Van Morrison is sort of the Babe Ruth of music. Ruth hit a lot of homeruns, but he also struck out a hell of a lot. Similarly, Van Morrison has plenty of songs that will score you sweet, sweet lovin', but he also put out "Inarticulate Speech of the Heart." As such, I am always cautious in my purchases of Van Morrison CDs. After listening to this one three times I would say that it was worth the money. There are two songs that stroll dangerously close to crap fence, but he makes up for it with the other tracks, one of which is of nookie-making quality.
    Van Morrison's "Into the Music" was released in 1979. Tune in next week for more album reviews that are 26 years late.

  • Actual AIM conversation:
    CO-WORKER: Experts Declare National Tire Safety Week
    CW: i'm taking the rest of the week off!
    CW: paaaaaaarrrrrtayyyyyyyyyy
    ME: Yeah. I love Tire Safety Week!
    CW: me too. i'm almost done with my parade float
    ME: I got soooooooo drunk at a Tire Safety Week party last year. It was nuts.
    CW: that was you on top of all those tires?
    ME: Hell yeah!
    CW: aw man, that was the awesome
    ME: I just wish they would make it National Tire Safety Month. Dude, that'd be fuckin' awesome!
    CW: i'd quit this job, dude
  • Friday, April 22, 2005

    Sheik of the burnin' sands

  • The first glimpse of what the new Superman will look like was released today. Is it just me, or does Brandon Routh look just a little bit like Zach Braff?
    As far as I'm concerned, the Superman legend simultaneously hit its high and its low with Dean Cain.

  • Good name for a band: The Chimp Oppressor

  • Another good name for a band: The Best Kelly Ever

  • Here's a random memory: Gwar.
    There was about a week there (about the same time I insisted upon having no less than three Anthrax posters in my room) when I thought Gwar were awesome. The reason for this, in common parlance -- I am a dork.
    Gwar was actually a step up from the days when I would lay in the hammock behind our house in Houston, listening to Ray Stevens' Greatest Hits over and over and over on my little cassette player.
    All my life I've dreamed of being in a band, but I suppose one of the reasons it was never to be is that I would have listed Gwar and Ray Stevens among my musical influences.

  • Hey, Dontail got all gussied up for his senior picture. Lookin' good, Dontail!
    Here's what he's thinking in that picture: "Damn. I'm so sexy, I could shoot a bus."
  • Blogger still sucks

  • Ugh. Blogger sucks so much. Once again today my post was delayed I was defeated in my efforts to leave comments on other people's blogs pieces. I'm sure y'all can carry on sans my yammering on your site, but it's still annoying.
    Today's technical errors come after a dream I had last night that I had successfully organized a campaign to get Biz Stone fired. I can't remember the reason for this campaign, perhaps because he is the only Blogger employee I know of, perhaps because his name is "Biz Stone." How is that a real name? From now on, call me Jax Granite.

  • A while ago, Vanessa informed me that cosmetology school is very difficult to get into. I have decided that this fact is at the heart of why some people chose to become journalists*.

  • Pope Benedict XVI once referred to rock music as "the vehicle of anti-religion."

  • Today is National High Five Day.

  • Delta Airlines is blaming high fuel costs for a quarterly loss of more than $1 billion. Does anyone actually believe that?

    *W'hey! A rare "Chris bitches about work" item.
  • Thursday, April 21, 2005

    FAQ: The story behind the title

    Someone finally asked me today what the story is behind the title of this blog. That someone is named Tyler. He grew up in El Cajon, Calif., and found my site by entering "El Cajon sucks" into a web search.

    "The only notable things about El Cajon are that Frank Zappa lived there as a kid, and Lester Bangs grew up there, which contributed to his mental torture
    and eventual early death," Tyler told me. "Did you grow up there as well? Why El Cajon...??? I'm very curious now."

    I used to live in San Diego, just near the storied 'burb of El Cajon, and the story of my blog's title comes from a sunny October afternoon in 2001, when my wife and I were at the La Mesa Oktoberfest. We were in the beer garden, listening to a polka band when a girl wearing a sash that identified her as "Miss El Cajon" asked me if I wanted to dance with her.

    Don't get the wrong idea. Despite having at one time dated the woman who would become Miss Wisconsin, I am not the sort of bloke that beauty queens randomly start making moves on. Miss El Cajon, Miss La Mesa, Miss Santee and Miss Lakeside were roaming around the festival together and performing their duties as representatives of their respective dusty Southern California cities. They were trying to get a few of us lazy beer drinkers to liven up a little.

    "No thanks," I said.

    "Oh come on," Miss El Cajon said. "You'll have fun."

    "No. Thank you, though."

    I didn't want to look stupid.

    "OK," she said, and went off in search of someone else.

    Almost immediately I wished that I had said yes. Pretty girl, sunny day, goofy dancing -- what's not to like there? What the hell was wrong with me that I wouldn't want to dance the polka with Miss El Cajon?

    For some reason that moment really stuck with me, and after a while, it became the quintessential example of what frustrates me most about myself. My life is filled with moments when I've wanted to do something, but then shot it down for some stupid reason. I didn't even try. I'm not really sure what it is: a fear of regret; a fear of failure; a fear of feeling stupid.

    I didn't go to school at University of Texas, or University of West Florida, or SUNY New Paltz, or University of Utah. I didn't stay in England. I didn't take that job at KRNV. I didn't do this, I didn't do that. Admittedly, some of those things turned out for the best, but I felt that too much of my life was becoming a catalog of things I hadn't done.

    I started this blog about a year ago when I was set to be a guest on a radio show. The week before, they had chatted with Nicholas Sparks; look how well things turned out for him. It was embarrassing that I was on this fancy radio program and had nothing to show for myself, and I think that served as the final catalyst to getting me started on the book I had spent the previous seven or so years telling everyone that I was going to write.

    The blog and the book aren't really at all connected; it's just that I chose the name at that particular time in my life when the cautionary tale of my missed dance with Miss El Cajon was again on my mind. Originally the blog's title was "I Danced the Polka with Miss El Cajon," because that it is what I would title my autobiography if I were old and famous. But I am not yet either, I am still in the process -- still on the road.

    Ironically, this blog, with a title that reminds me to make the most of the time that I am given, is just a big fat waste of time. Tedious, faux-thoughtful posts like this one are thankfully rare. Most of the time I choose to link to dancing hamsters.

    Wednesday, April 20, 2005

    User error

    On Sunday, thanks to a conspicuous burning smell, I determined that the power source fan on my computer had gone out. I panicked a bit because I was set to work from home today, but eventually I was able to jerry-rig a system that involved taking off the side of the tower and using an oscillating fan to keep things cool.

    Then, just 45 minutes before I was set to start work, the replacement fan I had ordered from Gateway showed up at the door. Brilliant.

    Not so much. I hadn't bothered to actually measure the fan that needed replacing, so the fan I ordered was too small.

    The Secret To Marriage

    Learn the Tao of Chris, grasshopper -- My Latest Column Is Out.

    Yes, I know I've bastardized the dharma, adding some random aikido element, and I will probably be reborn as a dyslexic Republican who is forced to suffer a lifetime of always getting it wrong, but, you know, I had to meet a deadline.

    Tuesday, April 19, 2005

    Habemvs papam

  • Wow. Ten years already.
    I was living in Snarr Hall when it happened. I had an 8 a.m. class that semester and each day after class I would go back to my room and spend an hour or so lying on my bed in half-sleep. I watched the CBS News coverage and my exhaustion added to the sense that it was not real. When I remember it now, the whole thing seems very surreal. Actually, it still seems surreal. Who the fuck attacks Oklahoma?
    Of course, we (Americans) weren't as paranoid then, so the original operating theory was that it had been some sort of massive gas-line break. By the end of the day, though, "the FBI and Oklahoma police put out an alert for three men believed to be of Middle Eastern origin driving a brown Chevrolet pickup truck." My dad, for reasons that are beyond my understanding, theorized that Basque separatists were to blame.

  • There is no reason for my putting the picture to the right on my blog piece, other than the fact that I thought it was funny.

  • I find it ironic that the method of informing the world of a new pope is so un-opulent. Watching smoke come out of a makeshift chimney doesn't really stir the soul. It was sort of an anticlimax.
    The good news is God won't expect me to go to church. I asked for a smart-ass Irish guy; rightwing Germans make me nervous.

  • If the Vatican's secret archives are on the web, they're hardly secret are they?

  • This guy can pretty much do anything he wants now.

  • I think I could win a spot on the first 15 for Canton RFC.

  • I'm sure people will complain about this, but I think it's kind of cool. The Benevolent United States Federal Government now offers personalized food pyramids (soon to be known as Pyramids of Freedom -- "Freedom Pyramid" is already taken).

  • It's National Stop Snoring Week in Britain.
  • El Papa Ron Mexico

  • Crap. Well, on the plus side, perhaps now is a good time to take out a 30-year loan; I won't have to pay it off.

  • You get the sense that she wouldn't handle the labor pains very well.

  • I hope that the new pope will choose his name to be Pope Ron Mexico.

  • Ever have one of those days in which this is your soundtrack?

  • I really like this song (nifty little video, too), even though there are parts when I wanted to start singing, "Take on me... Take me on..."

  • Blogger continues to suck. I had wanted to comment on several people's blogs pieces today but couldn't because of Blogger's sucktacular nature. The same problem is to blame for this post being three hours late.

    Your Linguistic Profile:

    65% General American English
    15% Dixie
    10% Yankee
    5% Midwestern
    5% Upper Midwestern

  • Sunday, April 17, 2005

    I'll see you in the rapture

  • Here's a line that I had considered putting into my column this week (comes out Tuesday), but I eventually decided against:
    "My wife is busily collecting enough romance novels to see us through The Millennium.*"

  • You know, I really don't remember ever linking to this picture, but apparently I did and at least one person a day finds my site whilst searching for it.

    *I am referring, of course, to the 1000-year reign of peace mentioned in Rev. 20. But I figured that no one would get this, or, if they did, they wouldn't think it was particularly funny. There probably a whole lot of guys out there who, like me, spent time studying the Bible simply because they think that religious chicks are hot.
  • Friday, April 15, 2005

    Equo adeste animo

  • Today -- unless you live in an alternate universe -- is April 15, and that can only mean one thing in the God-Blessed United States of America:
    That's right, today is "Bryce Hasn't Updated His Blog In A Month Day."
    Hooray! Be sure to celebrate

  • Although, if Bryce has my Internet provider he has an excuse. Comcast sucks.

  • According to an anonymous e-mail (which makes it all very random), I learned today that the Cope family motto, "Equo adeste animo" means "Be ready with constancy."
    Ready for what?
    I guess it just figures that I would be related to people who would come up with a motto that doesn't make any sense. Personally, I'm thinking of changing my family motto to something more practical, like "Videbat esse notitia bona id temporis" (It seemed like a good idea at the time).
    Or "Las crepes son deliciosas" (Pancakes are delicious).
    Of course, that second one is Spanish. But that's close enough to Latin, and more practical because people actually speak Spanish. Although, admittedly, "Quiquid latine dictum sit altum viditur.*"

  • Avast thar! As first reported right here on my blog piece, a pirate has been elected student body president at North Carolina State University.

  • Speaking of pirates, remember this?

  • One of the things I've been looking forward to quite a bit lately has been the release of the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" film. But the trailers have worried me a little because they didn't look very, well, funny. The trailers contained a lot of shouting and things exploding and some very nifty special effects (we've gone so far since the BBC days of Zaphod's ridiculously unrealistic plastic second head) but not what made the book so great -- its humor.
    this trailer has assuaged those fears.

    *Whatever is said in Latin sounds profound.
  • Thursday, April 14, 2005

    That's not what storm spotters do

  • You know, I was thinking that today was a pretty good day, until I realized that it's Thursday and not Friday, as I had thought.

  • "A lot of people saw the movie 'Twister,' in which the characters put themselves in harm's way to chase tornadoes. That's not what storm spotters do..."
    A lot of people also saw "Navy SEALs," in which Charlie Sheen shot a terrorist bloke in the head using a one-handed shot from the hip with an assault rifle. That's not what storm spotters do, either.

  • Random memory: Silverchair. They're the band that reinforces my theory that no good music comes from Australia.

  • Just stop it, you evil bastard.

  • Google will now allow you to upload video.
  • Boobies of death

  • I do not understand all this sudden interest in bringing back silicone implants. Is there some sort of untold medical tragedy occurring that we need so desperately to bring back deadly boobs? The only pro-death-tit argument I can find is the tired cliché that "consumers should be allowed to choose."
    The whole thing reminds me of Steve Martin's "Cruel Shoes."

  • I swear to you, this morning as I was commuting* to work, I saw HM The Queen driving a blue Honda Civic. I suppose it's not surprising that she would drive such an economical and reliable automobile, but I'm not sure what she was doing driving around baseball fields in Saint Paul, Minn.
    "We are very eager to see the start of Little League play."

  • Who would have thought this would be a problem?

  • What is the best song of all time? Ever? I don't mean some cool song that you really like at the moment, but a song that will always elicit some sort of emotional response from you? I'm inclined to say, sadly, that Thin Lizzie's "Boys Are Back In Town" is up there on my list.

  • "The robber... had cut eyeholes in his stocking cap, which he had pulled down over his face."
    Apparently he got his fashion sense from Dumb Donald of Fat Albert fame.


    *"Commuting." That's the big word I use to avoid admitting that my dad gives me a ride to work every day.
  • Tuesday, April 12, 2005

    My wife is smart

  • My wife successfully defended her master's project Monday. That means that she can now put "MPH" after her name ("master's in public health" not "miles per hour"). It confounds me that I have been able to surround myself with such intelligent people in my life, despite the fact that I am an insufferable moron.

  • Speaking of which, this could have been about me. That would make a lot of sense, actually. Offhand I can name no less than 40 people who would have written that at some point, and that's without considering the air hockey community.

  • It depresses me that this is not already a law.

  • For once, Bill Clinton is off the hook. This time Jeff Jarrett* is to blame.

  • I'm not sure who is to blame for Ricardo's awesome haircut.

  • Apparently Italy is not in Europe and Honduras is in Italy.

  • I was lying in bed last night and came up with an idea for a post about all the places I've lived. I have called no less than 17 spots "home" in my short and relatively uneventful life. None of those places are particularly exciting, mind you, but it just seems like a lot of shuffling about to me.
    Maybe not.
    Either way, I abandoned that idea because I decided it would be too much work. I may still do it someday, though.

  • Do you ever have those moments when you start talking to someone and then you look at them and realize that they are paying no attention to you, so you just sort of trail off and feel extremely stupid? That happens to me a lot.

  • Good name for a band: Ruthless Meth Addicts

    *Jarrett is a pro wrestler who famously hits people with guitars.
  • I am the Global Media Conspiracy

    Woohoo. Check this out. I will add this to my resume: columnist, copy editor, recognized by Radio and Television News Director's Association, the San Diego Society of Professional Journalists, and the Fargo Marathon.

    You know you wanna be my Friendster now.

    Monday, April 11, 2005

    Slapdashery

  • Ewwwww

  • Here's a question for you: My co-workers and I were today trying to think of an Internet phenomenon that is older than the dancing baby. There must be one, but I can't think of it.

  • Have you noticed that every Blackeyed Peas song essentially sounds the same?

  • Here's a random story: The first CD I ever bought was Megadeth's " Peace Sells But Who's Buying?" I used to listen to it on a stereo that my parents bought at Mills Fleet Farm. The stereo sat on the piano in our living room and I wasn't smart enough to listen to Megadeth on headphones. Instead, I turned the volume down to its second-to-lowest level and pressed my ear against one of the speakers. If you want to take all the spirit out of heavy metal music, turn it down really low. The Megadeth CD is also the first CD I sold.
    Do you remember the first CD you bought?

  • Hoss' most recent post laments money lost at the hands of an unfortunate acronym. Spare a thought for the poor folks at the South Korean Unification Ministry.

  • Wow. And I thought I had trouble with the air hockey community. That was nothing (thanks to Diego for the link).
  • The dreaded lion fish

    Saturday, April 9, 2005

    I'm hip in 2002!

    Remember that week when Friendster was cool? And you were all, "Hey, I want a load of Friendsters," and then you realized that in order to have Friendsters you had to already have friends, which sort of defeated the purpose of signing up to Friendster at all.

    Friendster -- it's like your address book, but with lots of distracting pop-up ads and a server that crashes more often than Blogger's! What a great deal.

    That all said, a friend of mine somehow managed to hit me when I was weak and I filled out a Friendster profile a few weeks ago. I presently have two Friendsters -- Sara and Lindsay.

    Anyway, the point is if you are a Friendster, look me up and I will add you to my list posthaste. If, for some reason, you want to be a Friendster, e-mail me and I will invite you posthaste. Then you, like me, can spend a load of time setting up a profile and then thinking: "What the hell is the point of this?"

    Prysur

    I'm so busy it's ridiculous. Here's a random picture




    (Prysur means "busy" in Welsh)

    Friday, April 8, 2005

    Blogger sucks

  • Short post today. It was Libel-palooza today at the headquarters of my benevolent employer, so I had to actually work.

  • I will soon need a passport to go to Canada. I feel like Paul Robeson. The terrorists have won.

  • Wired story noting what most of us already know from personal experience -- Blogger sucks as of late.

  • The King of Egypt has been arrested in Akron, OH.
  • Wednesday, April 6, 2005

    Speaking rubbish with authority

  • Random lyric I heard last night: "With a monkey that looks like Elvis"

  • My co-worker and I today were discussing my wife's observation that because of my television/radio background I have a capacity to say things with a certain voice of authority, even when I clearly do not know what I'm talking about. I don't do this intentionally, it just happens that way (Dave, if this ever happens to you please back me up).
    People who have spent some amount of their career focusing on their voice, and even those who have spent some amount of their career telling reporters and anchors what to do (I have done both) are just more comfortable in their speech. That comfort is often confused for authority and knowledge on the part of a listener. As such, no one called me on it when I falsely claimed today that Monaco is located on the African continent.
    "Wait," I said after about two seconds. "That's wrong."
    A second later, Google confirmed that I had confused Monaco with Morocco.
    "What did we do before Google?" my co-worker asked.
    "Well, I know that I certainly talked a lot more shit.*"
    The end result of this is that the technology exists and I think it's time some company (Google?) put everything together and made an actual Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It would be a sort of palm computer that linked to a massive and constantly updated database that offered everything from articles on the Peace of Westphalia to the best Indian food in the LL22 postcode.

  • Why am I so skeptical of this?

  • Avast thar, I wish my university student government had been this interesting.

  • Crime runs rampant in Omaha.

  • Angela Broussard is easily moved.

    *I once told Esther that the "I" in "I-94" stands for "Ike." She was suffering extreme womanly pains at the moment and chose to ignore me.
  • Tuesday, April 5, 2005

    Running For Half-Glory In Fargo

    Call grandma, tell your friends: My Latest Column Is Out. Please forward it to all your friends in the air hockey community.

    I can see your house from here

  • Cool. Google has added a feature to its mapping system that gives you a satellite picture. I can see my house from here, man*.

  • This story makes me sad. He is, after all, one of America's best journalists (note that he's actually Canadian). But I can't say that it comes as any surprise to me. When I was working at the ABC affiliate in San Diego, Jennings and his entourage came through as part of his series of town hall discussions that came shortly after 9-11. He and his crew smoked like chimneys. They took over one of the back rooms and politely asked if we wouldn't mind if they broke the rules and smoked back there. We politely explained that they were in California and smoking indoors was by no means acceptable, no matter how awesome and respected you are. You don't wear a baseball hat in church, you don't joke about bombs on airplanes, and you sure as hell don't smoke indoors in California.

  • I suck at this game.

  • I don't usually link to McSweeney's articles because everyone links to McSweeney's (and no one ever links to BBC articles?), but I really liked this one.

    *I once spent a day at Astroworld with my cousin, Shawn, and every time we were at a high point on a roller coaster he would elbow me in the ribs and shout: "I can see your house from here, man."
    By the end of the day it had become the funniest thing in the world.
  • Monday, April 4, 2005

    Vince McMahon owes me four hours of my life

  • My wife and I went over to a friend's house Sunday night to watch Wrestlemania 21 with a group of people. My overall impression of the event can be summed up in four words: Huge Pile Of Suck.
    It really says something about a four-hour event when the most memorable moment came from a wrestler's entrance. HHH came up through the floor as Motörhead played "The Game."
    Most of the matches were throwaway crap that I would click away from if it were on regular TV. Eddie Guerrero and Rey Mysterio started things off with a match that was so piss poor we were just begging for it to end. Rey's mask kept coming loose and he had to readjust it after EVERY move. How convincing of a bump is it that you have apparently been hit so hard that you can't move, but not hard enough that you still have the presence of mind to consider your appearance? Things just went downhill from there, with Hulk Hogan charging out to beat up an Arab, a six-man ladder match that looked like it had been put together earlier that morning solely for the purpose of having Shelton Benjamin pull off a cool running-up-a-ladder trick, and a championship match between JBL and John Cena that was easily the weakest and most forgettable championship match in the history of wrestling.
    The strongest matches were HBK vs. Kurt Angle, and HHH vs. Batista, the success of the latter resting solely on the shoulders of HHH who was trying so hard to get Batista over that it was just a little sad. Any time a top player goes for the blade it just kind of cheapens the whole match. And Batista was starting to tire after about 10 minutes. I can't believe they gave the title to a guy who makes HHH look like he has stamina.
    Angle, on the other hand, faced the same old problem of being so good that he can't find an adequate opponent. Having been a legitimate athlete, Angle suffers from too much stamina. He sort of schooled HBK and accidentally made it look a little too easy. We were joking that if Angle were to go against Batista it would have to be some sort of stipulation match that required Angle to run around the ring three times after every move he delivers.
    I didn't think about this until I was reading through the HBK bio that I linked to above, but considering that one of his biggest pushes came when he screwed Bret Hart and they played it that Hart had tapped, could it be that in tapping out to Angle Michaels was paying homage to Hart at Wrestlemania 21? At the end of the match he rolled out of the ring and seemed to thank the crowd as if it were his last match. Of course, we've all been waiting for Michaels' last match for years. Hoping he will be the one smart guy to bow out with dignity. None of them ever do.

  • Meanwhile, there may be hope for my chances of again being able to watch "Raw." The program is returning to USA Network, which means nothing to me because my $8-a-month cable doesn't offer that channel either. But the Spanish-language "Raw" will air on Telemundo, which I do have. I need to start brushing up on my Spanish.
    NBC will also air at least two 90-minute wrestling programs a year, which sounds really cool but will, in fact, probably suck. Instead of working to expand their audience in those specials, I have no doubt that the WWE will instead spend the whole time trying to promo their next worthless pay-per-view.

  • Here's something amusing that I found on Kurt Angle's personal Web site. At the very bottom it says: "Any use of materials without concent is strickly prohibited."

  • I apologize if all this wrestling talk is of little or no interest to you. If you were a member of the air hockey community you would complain that I am not "properly looking through the eyes of (my) readers."

  • Add filthiness to your Welsh stereotype.

  • Well, shit. This is so inconvenient. I was supposed to return my tux on Saturday. Now I'll have to pay a late fee.

  • This weekend was beautifully warm (68F/20C -- that's blazing hot in Minnesota spring), which meant that everyone in Saint Paul flocked to get ice cream. After two years of living just a few blocks away, we finally checked out Izzy's where I was instantly smitten by their Guinness-flavored ice cream. Of course, I bought it on principle, but it was surprisingly good.
  • Sunday, April 3, 2005

    Somewhere there's a plastic puck with my name on it

    I have been informed that the air hockey community is very upset with a remark I made in a previous post (the remark has since been removed because I'm a wuss who doesn't particularly enjoy conflict).

    Some of the comments I received:
  • "Your blog is disgusting."
  • "Shut down your blog now."
  • "Your comments will give others the wrong impression of our comparatively wholesome sport."
  • "...we find your message a case of Bloody Ignorance*."

    Ignoring the irony and humor of my drawing the ire of the air hockey community, I extend to them a whole-hearted apology and suggest that they explore one of the other 36 million blogs that currently exist on Ye Olde Internet.

    Indeed, I extend the same invitation to any of you who may take offense with my blatant pro-Welsh leanings and links to stories about bathtub cheese. This is not journalism. Although I work for the Global Media Conspiracy I make no claim to be upholding the standards of truth, integrity and fairness on this insignificant corner of the Internet.

    If you are easily offended by strong language or concepts you should click away now. You may also want to shut off your computer and board up your home, because there are far ruder people than me out there.

    I'm just shocked that this has happened. Why, some of my best friends are in the air hockey community. Besides, everybody knows that the real threat comes from people who are into curling.

    *Good name for a band: Bloody Ignorance
  • Saturday, April 2, 2005

    The Pope-izzle

  • Short post today because it's been all pope all the time. If you had any question about the influence of Da Pope-ah, you need only look at my deleted items folder. Literally hundreds of pope-related stories came across my virtual desk today.
    Interesting fact I learned in the process: The state with the most per capita Catholics? Rhode Island.

  • Also today, I (perhaps foolishly) promised God that I would become Catholic if he appointed a Guinness-drinking, smart-ass über Irishman as the next pope.

  • Good name for a band: Silver Hammer.

  • Mmm. Google Gulp

  • Google also announced Friday that it would be increasing storage space on its Gmail system (how about giving us the option to put things in folders?).
    If you are one of the last eight people on the planet who have not received a Gmail invite, I have 50 of them to give away. Drop me an e-mail if you are keen.
    One strange element of Gmail: The other day I was trying to look through sent items to find Jenny's IM screen name (I know that she once sent it to me and I replied). But the Gmail system seems to think that I have never sent a single e-mail to her.

  • "... the 8th Century poem Beowulf records a genuine encounter with a Tyrannosaurus Rex." Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggghhhhhh! We live in Bizarro World.

  • Radio 1 plays a song by Faith Evans all the time in which she claims that she has been a victim of the media.
    "They speculate and exaggerate for a better story," Faith sings.
    Huh? Who are you? What are you talking about? I remember a whopping ZERO Faith Evans stories.
  • Friday, April 1, 2005

    These bloody people

  • Oh, man. The person behind this blog is going to hell.

  • And what is hell like? Well, it's a lot like being trapped in a dark room watching "Miss Congeniality 2" with a load of screaming children.

  • Yeesh. It's called bonding with your sons. Calm down. And I think this exchange may answer some questions about Charles' flippant attitude:
    Reporter: "As this is your last holiday together before the wedding, I was wondering, William and Harry, if you were planning any kind of appropriate send-off for your father?"
    Prince Harry: "It's been and done."
    William: "You missed it. It was good fun."

  • Lately my favorite phrase has been: "A feat of derring-do."

  • Thursday was Cesar Chavez Day. You could have broken someone's arm* up here in Minnesota and they wouldn't have been able to tell you that.

  • Here's a random truth: Somewhere in Irving, Texas, there is a jar with $7.43 in it buried in the back yard of my family's old house.

  • Helpful hints for really dumb people: When changing the battery in a smoke detector "open the door or top of the detector and pull the old battery out."

  • Ah, no wonder the Twin Cities are such a safe place to live.

    *I have no idea what that means. Lately I have been embracing my Texas heritage and making up homespun similes and metaphors, regardless of the applicability.