Look What I Did!

Today we bought the 3 older girls bikes for their birthdays, which are all still a ways away (with the exception of Bella, whose in in about a month). We picked up all three, but this was the only one that needed assembly--and I did it during "Lost" tonight. Not too shabby, if I say so myself. You'll get a better idea how small this damn thing is when she's on it and someone of normal stature is standing nearby--it's real little. Here's to hoping the pedals stay on.

Thank God for ifilm.com

This is quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen. If you haven't been watching VH1's Web Junk 20, then I suggest you start.



"...and remember, with every move you make, I want you to ask yourself 'Is This Good For The Company?'"

Spring

Because yesterday was so flippin' sweet weather-wise, I'm excited to officially announce the return of Barbecue season. Barbecue season is cool for me because it's the one time I'm allowed to cook, and I cooks real good. I've got skills that I honed at a
world-renowned institute and it's a good time for me to show 'em off. Actually, anybody can grill, and Mandy does all the prep work on the meat. I just throw it on and try not to burn it (which is actually all I learned at the aforementioned institute). She posesses (sp?) chef-like abilities with her cooking, and I gained 15-20 pounds in two years because of it.

At our house, barbecues tend to turn into an event. Not just a typical 3 hour night--people generally start showing up around 5 p.m. and most don't leave until 3 or 4 a.m. A lot of drinking is usually the theme, mixing in various activities like bocce and chasing the girls around the yard. Once dinner is consumed, it turns into hippie fest.
Stacey and I bust out guitars, a bonfire is lit, and we play and sing along until the wee hours in the morning.

This is me after about 12 bottle of Miller Lite last year. If you look real close, you'll see the Rollie Fingers-esque moustache that I'm sporting. Mandy and Stacey prouced the eyeliner pencil and figured it'd be a good idea to see if I could have a 'stache that's nastier than the one I grow organicly. I thought I looked like one of those old-time bareknuckle boxers, with names like "Gentleman Jim" and such, which is why I struck that pose. Everyone was laughing at me, not with me (which is what I thought at the time.) Screw 'em. The plan is to host the first Barbecue one week from this Sunday. By that time the yard should be dry and the weather should be a little more consistent. All are invited--the more, the merrier. Dinner is pot-luck-style, guests supply
their own forms of inebriation and any other activites outside of Bocce, Catchprase, and guitar-playing. Last year we had some great turn-outs, and we're looking to top that on a regular basis this year.


Softball starts in about 3 weeks--yet another reason to hail the return of spring. Another season of sliding headfirst, diving at line drives, and generally anything else that could lead to personal injury to drive Mandy nuts. She rules--she hates that I play, but goes to a lot of the games and is usually pretty good at inflating my ego afterwards, saying things like "You played really well tonight" and "Hey! You're not injured!" What a gal. This will also mark the beginning of a full-on assault of softball posts on this blog, complete (hopefully) with stats and pictures. I find it hilarious that anyone would keep stats on their D-League softball team, which is exactly why I'm going to do it. Who wouldn't want to follow a team named "Shampoo Your Mullet?" Especially when given water-cooler conversation fodder like "Chad Buege broke out of his slump going 3-4 in the first game last night", or "sure, they started out strong, but can they finish the season? Every year they start tough and then collapse." Names like Chad Kraml, Jason Kelvie, and Dan Boeser will become household names. Or not. But you'll see--when you run into me at the bar this summer, you'll ask me how the team is doing, and if you've been reading, you'll be able to stat-drop during the conversation. Or maybe you won't.

Too bad it'll never happen

Even though this is a little hokey, it does mirror my opinion (for the most part) on the relationship between media and sports. Some things are worth reporting, but all stories have a shelf life.

Theiner

I'm here to help. Here are a few good ways to kill time at work, and maybe even get you fired (no porn, sorry.)

Bored.com

Rotten.com

The Smoking Gun

Play This Really Loud at Work

That's all for now, but if I find more, I'll post 'em. *Disclaimer--some of these you may already be familiar with. If that's true, sorry. I'm tired.

This is the new and terrifying behavior that my daughter is starting to exhibit. I just watched the Evel Knievel Biography, and this is how that shit starts.

Dinner With 3 Girls

Mandy had fallen ill today. In an order to provide her with a break, after I put Molly to bed I decided to take Juliet, Bella and Mia out to dinner at the local
Chinese joint (that also serves American-style "cuisine"--hamburgers, chicken-fried steak, etc.). We all came in with big appetites, and because I'm an idiot, ordered $50 worth of entrees--Chicken in Garlic Sauce, Sweet and Sour Chicken, Plain Lo Mein, Eggrolls (x2), Fried Rice and White Rice. Of course only after the food had arrived did I remember that I was dealing with the stomachs of 7, 5, and 4 year-olds. Needless to say, we have lots of leftovers, like those pictured above. Not pictured--Lo Mein, Eggrolls, Fried Rice. And of course, sticking with the I'm-A-Moron theme, I forgot to bring Mandy home any soup, which was more-or-less my main objective. "Don't forget my soup, Zach!" I can hear it over and over in my head now, but when I was at House of Wong?

Animal House

Mandy and I have been living together for almost 2 years now. Here is visual proof of why we're retarded.
This is Rosco. Mandy and the Girls bought him for me days before my 25th birthday, because I was (and still am) freakishly outnumbered in my house (at the time it was 4-1 girls.) Rosco is a purebred Saint Bernard, and is a complete spaz. I loved this dog until I came into the kitchen one day and saw that he had Mia pinned in the corner. That effectively ended that relationship.

After Rosco left for Elko, we decided it was time for another cat (Rainbow had left once she got territorial and started pissing on everything that belonged to the baby.) Not pictured is Ellie, the crazy-ass rescue cat we got from the Como Humane Society. She literally jumped off of an apartment building at 2:30 am once, so she was gone. This here is Foxy, who is half-minx. She was a fun little kitty until her feral insticts took over and she started attacking the kids (there is a recurring theme here.)

After two failed cats and the relocation of another to the girl's dad's house, we decided it was time for another dog. This is Mickey, the purebred Coonhound. I thought we had struck gold with this one, also from the Como Humane Society. He walked great on a leash, was real mellow, and generally just kept to himself. The fact that he came home grossly underweight (48 lbs.--he should've been right around 60) and he had Kennel cough weren't bid deals--we got a free vet visit and free meds so all should have been peachy. One week of antibiotics put the spring back in his step, and off he ran into the streets and out of our lives. Bummer. (If you haven't noticed his enormous dog penis or huge dog balls by now, I'm sure I just helped you out a little bit.)

These two we picked up for $50 each, named them Phil and something else, and sold them for $200 each a week later. Lab/wirehair mix puppies or something like that. Nice dogs, fed them well, but one week was long enough. We knew what we were getting into with these two, and found them great owners who like to hunt. Perfect.

Which birngs us up to the present. This, as stated below, is Seamus, The English Springer Spaniel. Hopefully this guy turns out alright. At press time we've had him for 6 days--he's only barked once, follows me everywhere I go, is fully housetrained, loves kids, walks well on a leash, and doesn't freak out if he sees another dog. He utterly rules. Not pictured is our cat Vivian (Vivi to her friends)--she's on the mend from having her womanhood and only lines of defense surgically removed. Also not pictured is Dumpster, my dog from childhood who is dead. I'll find a picture of him and get it up here ASAP. He was funny.

There you have it--Mandy and I have lost our minds.

Here it comes! More pictures!

Mandy just pointed out to me that in my profile, I'm listed as a female bartender. That's not true, as shown by the picture above. That's not me, but you get the idea (that's actually Jason Kelvie). Problem solved.

Give a guy $500 and a public-access television studio....

....and he'll give you this in return. Ratt called, and they want their sound guy back. Mandy and I were watching VH1 last night (all hail the return of cable!) and we found out that this guy comes from New Jersey. Really, I never would have guessed.

Forgive me for going
Sung Sook on this, but we just got an English Springer Spaniel from the Woodbury Humane Society named Duke. The name Duke sucks, so we renamed him Seamus in honor of us finding him on Saint Patrick's Day. He's 3-4 years old and could possibly be the Tamest Dog in the World (TDW). The kids love him, and vice versa. They crawl all over him and he just sits there like it's nothing new. There will be plenty of photos to follow these two, so skip if you feel it necessary.

Sure, but she's no Isiah Rider

Either way, Candice Parker's Dunks were pretty sweet, especially considering that she's a freshman. That baseline dunk, even though it kind of rolled in, was tough. And throwing down at full speed with a defender on your ass? All in all, pretty impressive. Next time I want a tomahawk.

Nothing Says "March Madness" Like 6 Inches of Snow

The Brackets have officially been made final, so it's time to start speculating. Me, being an official Gonzaga fan for over 8 years (yes, I know who Dan Dickau and Blake Stepp are, and I know where Ronny Turiaf plays), I'm delighted that they won't have to run into a number 1 seed until the regional final. I'm upset because they got a 3-seed, meaning they could potentially fall prey to the inevitable 14-over3-seed upset. They didn't play well in their conference tournament-even though they won-and if Xavier can stop Adam Morrison, then the upset could happen.


This snow is ridiculous.

Editor's Note

The link for the Natalie Portman rap in my previous post of course now does not work, because NBC's worried that something may have fallen out of their grasp. So skip over that and click here if you want to see it. Boy this is annoying.

Looks like Sexy Math and I aren't the only ones who are feeling a little bummed.

I was 5 years old when I went to the Metrodome for the first time. I wasn't old enough to understand what exactly it was I was watching or who was playing. I had a hot dog bigger than my face and the soda to match. I fell in love with baseball that day, not knowing it until later.

Two years later, at the ripe old age of 7, my father came into town to take
Travis and I back to the Dome for a nooner against the Yankees. At this point I've got two years playing experience under my belt and I'm just starting to understand my love affair with the game. Yeah, we were indoors and it was 80 degrees out, but whatever--the Twins were playing and I was there so Bob Casey could tell me that there was noooooo smoking in the Dome. At age 7 in 1987, this was as good as it got.

The Twins were the Twins, but whenever Kirby Puckett was on the field, you knew he was The Twins. You hear the same testimonies all the time from all the players who played with and against him: Infectious smile, unparallelled passion for the game, could lighten the mood at a funeral. To a 7 year old kid, all those qualities were apparent. He just loved to play the game and it was so obvious that we began to take it for granted. I wanted to be Kirby Puckett. I wore his number when I played for the Pirates in the BAC. I crossed my chest each trip to the plate and I'm not Catholic. I kicked my leg high and struck out a ton of times. I slid for Kirby, I dove for Kirby, I played the game for Kirby.

October 26, 1991 is the actual date the Minnesota Twins won the World Series. If you look it up, Game 7 officially took place on October 27, 1991, but that game was really just a formality (although it should go down as one of the Top Five World Series Games of All Time--TFWSGAT). If anybody thought that after what Puck did in Game 6--the first-inning triple, The Catch, The Walk-Off--the Twins would then drop Game 7, at home, to the loudest fans in Baseball, then they just weren't paying attention. The Braves put up a hell of a fight, and John Smoltz's pitching performance will go down in the all-time annals, but Kirby Puckett and his Minnesota Twins had built a momentum unseen in this state. It was Happening.

I remember exactly where I was when he hit The Walk-Off. We had a townhouse in Burnsville, and it was fast-approaching my birthday. We had a French exchange student living with us at the time, and she gave me my birthday present--Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch's "Good Vibrations" tape, and my first fitted Twins hat, which suspiciously smelled like fish--but that's neither here nor there. I was so excited about my hat and my tape that through the first 3 innings we listened to "Good Vibrations" about 15 times. Between that and a new cap, I thought there was no way my Twins would lose that night. At age 11 I thought I was not only ready for a tattoo, but that the tattoo should recreate the magic that was The Catch.

Kirby Puckett taught me that sports were good, and that they should be played hard and always be given your best. He also taught me that this approach should carry over into everyday life. The Game of Baseball will miss Puck, the State of Minnesota will miss Puck, and I will miss Puck. We'll See Ya Tomorrow Night.

Keep fighting, Kirby. Don't die on me now.
Get the story here.

Like She's Not Hot Enough

She goes and does
this. Credit here goes to Mandy, who found not only this video for me, but also "Lazy Sunday" way back when. Now normally I would link that to You Tube, but NBC pulled their "copyright card" and had it yanked off of there. You can now only find it on NBC's website, and thank god for that because I'm sure that website needs all the hits it can get. It's nice for a struggling website to have something as nice as "Lazy Sunday" so it'll get some traffic. So watch Natalie Portman while you can on You Tube before you get redirected to NBC.com, and try to figure out which video is funnier. I know all the lyrics to "Lazy Sunday", but this might be funnier. I'm not sure.

because you know you don't care, but you'll read anyway

What a strange day. I'm trying to generate some extra scratch, so I had two job interviews today. 12:30 this afternoon came, and there I was in Maplewood at Corner Kicks Soccer, chatting it up with a nice young lady about becoming a part-time soccer instructor for little, little kids. Fast-forward to 4:30 and I'm making the cross-metro drive to Kip's Irish Pub, dreams of becoming a supervisor dancing in my head. Job interviews are weird enough, because you never answer completely truthful and you're never yourself. You also leave the interview firmly straddling the fence that is your chances of landing the job. You can lean one way or the other, but short of the person saying "You're Hired" right there and then, you can never really know until you get the call (or never get the call.) Long story longer, I kind of think that I landed both jobs, which is interesting due to the fact that I already have one. If I juggle all three, we'll be ghetto rich, to the tune of a 70-80 hour work week. Hmmm.

I would like to give appropriate props and snaps to my buddy Chris, who gave me the Teacher's Key concerning the Top 3 Hip-Hop Albums of All-Time (TTHHAAT). They are as follows:
1.Enter the 36 Chambers
2.It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back
3.College Dropout
And if you disagree, I will fight you.

Serious Concern!

You think cats (scroll down) are at risk? They've got nothing on these guys. Look at the tears!

"Veronica and I trying this new fad called uh, jogging. I believe it's jogging or yogging. it might be a soft j. I'm not sure but apparently you just run for an extended period of time. It's supposed to be wild."

We're Runnin', We're Runnin'!