Okay, I didn’t get the post that I was working on up, because I didn’t finish it. I’m so damn close to finishing my Dean, Clark, Bush page, but I refuse to put anything that I haven’t polished on here. So, you will just have to wait a few days =) I’m bringing my laptop home, so I’ll work on it in the next day or two and I’ll have one nice big post.
And now, I head for home, where family and friends await.
Go watch this guy play. You won’t be disapointed.
I just updated my Chrono Trigger and Final Fantasy VII pages. I realized that my summaries and descriptions of them were both lacking, so I took some time and and worked on them a bit.
This weekend was pretty damn fun. About a week ago Chong IMed me and told me that he was gonna be in town on Friday, so I was stoked. Him and his friend Josh got into town around 6-ish and that whole night was fun as hell. =) I didn’t go to bed until around 5 in the morning, but I got up to see them off since they were heading down to Charleston for the rest of the weekend. I can’t wait until this Wednesday. Not only am I going to be able to go home and see my entire family, but most of my friends from highschool will be back in town, including Chong. He is bringing back his DVDs of the complete first and second seasons of 24 and we have vowed to watch the entire 48 hours worth of episodes so that I can get caught up on what the hell is going on this season.
I also can’t wait to go back home because this Friday is the big game. We’ve been planning a football game for the afternoon and I’m excited for three reasons. (1) I get to hit somebody. That’s probably the best part. Well, that and dodging somebody trying to hit you, thus making them look like a fool. (2) We get to run some of my plays. I’m such a nerd when it comes to this. I’ll sit and think of wacky ass plays to try and pull and boy have I thought of some good ones for this game. And (3) Clay is going to be inducted into the traditional Thanksgiving Football Game. He’s played with us a few times, but up until this point he’s always received special treatment. Instead of tackling him, you just had to do two-hand touch on him. Well not anymore. I’ve made the decision that he is old enough to play with the big boys, so starting this Friday, he loses his special treatment and now can be tackled. It may not seem all that important to most of you, but trust me, the day you’re seen as old enough to be tackled is a day no boy will ever forget.
Homer Singing Do Ra Me:
DOUGH, the stuff, that buys me beer.
RAY, the guy that sells me beer.
ME, the guy, who drinks the beer.
FAR, the distance to my beer.
SO, I think I’ll have a beer.
LA, la la la la la beer!
TEA, no thanks, I’m drinking beer.
That will bring us back to… [Looks into an empty glass]
D’OH!
In light of the trick that was recently played on me, I have only this (link since removed) to say to Stan. =)
Aaron brought up an excellent point the other day. My hair does look funny when it grows out. The back gets kinda curly and the front just goes every which-a-way. It looks great after I get out of the shower when I just run the towel through it once and leave it be, all wet and sticking up everywhere.
And it’s killing me. Not because it is long and has a mind of its own. Hell, that’s what I like about it, it reflects my personality. But the reason I have to shower all the time is because it gets greasy. Very greasy. And I’m not talking shower once a day here. I’m talking, I need a shower ever freaking 12 hours to keep it looking half-way decent. But that isn’t even the worse part. I mentioned before that I only run the towel through it once and while that does produce the effect that I’m going for, I don’t think I’d be able to run it through much more if I even wanted to. You see, men in my family go bald kinda early. And I am no different. I shed. I shed worse then a dog, worse then a girl, worse then…well, worse then anything else I can think of. My pillowcase is also littered with hair when I wake up. Whenever somebody tells me that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I just tell them “No, I just woke up in a pile of my own hair asshole.” That never seems to change their initial opinion about me, but whatever.
I have been looking forward to Winter for a long time because I love cold weather. Well, I love it for about a month and them I’m sick of it, but that’s beside the point. The point is that I have been looking forward to Winter for a reason beyond the cold weather this year. You see, I halted the shaving of my head last February as a present to Jess. I figured that since I was going to be balding early anyways, I might as well let everybody enjoy my hair while I could grow it. And so, when February rolls around in a few months, it will have been a year since I cut my hair. I’ll take a few pictures, enjoy the last memories of it, and hand the blade to Fellner and let him slice this crap off.
Homer: “My hair! You chopped off my hair! Oh God, I’m ugly!”
“Awesome story though. I immensly enjoyed the sum up of the catch. I kept thinking, ‘Hurry up and tell me if you caught it or not!’” – Stan.
I’m glad somebody enjoys what I have to write, especially when it involves the activity I love most in this world. =)
I had the brilliant idea the other day to go over to Amazon.com, make up a wish list, and then send it to all my family who asks me what I want for Christmas. That way, (1) I’m much more likely to get something I want, (2) There is so much on it that I won’t even come close to getting 10% of the stuff I put on there, so it’s still a surprise, and (3) Gone are the days of freezing on the phone when I am asked what I want. I always used to do this and I’d end up saying “Uh, whatever. It doesn’t matter.” See, it really doesn’t matter what or how little I get, but I would always get a sudden lack of memory and it would happened every single time, which was very annoying to me. So I suggest to everybody to go utilize this feature and never forget what you really want for Christmas again!
Alot of people have been asking me recently why I support candidate Dean over Clark for the Democratic nomination and in all honesty, it’s a pretty good question. Both Dean and Clark are pretty similar in their views, so I decided to go through and break down everything that a politician might campaign under and list what Dean and Clark stand for. And for fun, I threw in President Bush to the equation, who opposes them in almost every way imaginable. I’ll back Clark is I have to in order to beat President Bush, but Dean really is the better option of the two in my honest opinion. I’ll try and post that within the next few days for anybody who cares.
This post turned out much shorter then I expected. I edited way too many paragraphs out, either due to stupidity or sensitivity.
P.S. Undergrads is the best show you have never heard of, hands down. I highly suggest everybody go download some of the episodes off the Internet and check them out.
P.P.S. I’m stoked about the road trip Stan and I are going to take to see Angela to watch Simpsons on her big screen TV. She made the mistake of inviting anybody and everybody to come watch it at her house, so Stan and I am going to take her up on that offer! =) And with that being said…
Homer: Burkina Faso? Disputed Zone? Who called all these weird places?
Homer’s Brain: Quiet, it might be you! I can’t remember.
Homer: Naw, I’m going to ask Marge.
Homer’s Brain: No, no!! Why embarrass us both? Just write a check and I’ll release some more endorphins!
Well folks, the Shyzer’s season is officially over. Last night was our first (and only) playoff game, as we were squared up against the team Alpha Tau Omega (very original name) and….well let’s just say it was damn fun.
I honestly had no idea how we were gonna get enough people to play. The rules were that you had to have at least 8 people and 3 of them had to be girls. After calling all the girls I knew here at school and asking around in all my classes, I was only able to come up with 2, which was pissing me off. I heard “It’s gonna be too cold” far too many times and I wanted to strangle somebody, but I knew that if I didn’t find this elusive third girl, we’d be going home early. I had swore I’d get a third girl, so I did what any person in my situation would be forced to do. Grab the phone directory and start calling. On my fifth call, I talked to a girl named Courtney who said she’d come play for us. I had expected to make at least 50 calls before I found somebody, so go figure. Excited wouldn’t even come close to how I felt when I heard her say she’d come play. I was on a whole new level, cloud 9 if you will. After making somewhere around 30 total phone calls and IMs, I finally had the count up to 8 people. We were gonna live on for at least one more game…
The game was at 9, so I was at the field around 8:30. Now, before I headed out, I stepped outside to find that it was what we down here in the South like to call “un-fucking-believably” cold. I knew I couldn’t play in my regular Mariners shirt and shorts, so I went into my closet and pulled out two priceless gems. The first being a pair of knee-high socks that I didn’t even know I owned and the second being a long sleeve, turtleneck Mariners undershirt that the pros wear when it’s cold. Retro and Mariners: it doesn’t get much better then that. I took some pictures, both on Fellner’s camera and my own, so expect some of me in my softball uniform and of the team once I develop the film.
When I got to the field around 8:30, I met Courtney and started tossing with her. Fellner and Phil were right behind me, but that was it…Game time rolled around and we still only had 4 people out there and I was pissed. As Fellner put it “Dude, I thought you were gonna blow a fuse out there.” I mean, I had JUST TALKED to everybody and I had a confirmed 8 people showing up. And now I only had 4 people on the field? What’s up with that?! Three minutes before I was forced to sign the sheet saying we forfeited, the other 4 people came strolling up and we took to the field. Now, let me just say this. Our team was composed of 6 people who had never played baseball before. (I refuse to say softball…it’s NOT the same thing, but whatever). This was a rag-tag team from the start that had been thrown together all season and even though everybody on the field had been practicing with me since late September, 2 months of practicing twice a week for an hour and a half just isn’t enough time to teach everybody everything. Our catcher had “never played ball sports” in his entire life, our right fielder had never been able to catch fly balls, and our short stop was non-existent. We never knew who the hell was going to be playing there.
But I honestly didn’t care at all. All I cared about was that feeling you get as you run into center field. It’s one of the best natural highs you’ll ever experience. I love sprinting out there. I love commanding the outfield. I love that feeling of wanting the ball hit to you. I love making catches that you shouldn’t make and I love watching the hitter walk back to the dugout shaking his head. To top it off, this field was actually a pretty good sized patch of grass. It wasn’t your average namby-pamby little league field. So knowing that we only had enough for 3 outfielders and that I would be roaming even more territory, knowing that I had more and more area to patrol…well, it just felt awesome.
The first inning was…rough. Yeah, rough would be a good way to describe it. I don’t quite remember how, but we quickly went down 11-0 without making an out and I had yet to have the ball hit in my direction. I know we committed somewhere around 8 errors, but hey, whose counting? I just wanted to get the inning over with and get the team off the field so that we could try and get a few runs back and then start over fresh the next inning. You could see most of the team getting kind of down, realizing that it was going to be a long night and I didn’t want them having that feeling, because when you start to wish you weren’t out there, all hope is lost.
I was playing pretty deep. These guys had been burning us with line drives and I wanted to be able and cut one off and try to gun him out going to second. So naturally, since I was playing deep into center, a soft popup was hit into no-mans land somewhere between left field and the infield. Now, on any ball hit, I always break for it in a sprint. I don’t care where the ball is hit. Hell, it could be a grounder to the first baseman; I always break into a sprint. Usually after about 4 steps is when I adjust my running and either back off completely or keep going since it’s hit to me. Well on this popup, I took off sprinting straight towards it. In any other situation, I would have backed off and let the ball drop and just held the guy to a single. Hell, I remember even thinking that I should do that with this ball. But we were down 11-0 with no outs, so despite the thoughts that had just raced through my mind, I kept going. And time just seemed to stop. My mind went to that place where I’ve tried to force it to go for so long now. I couldn’t hear a thing, not a sound. Not Fellner charging the ball from the opposite direction. Not the other team yelling at the batter to try and stretch out a triple. Nothing. It was an amazing feeling. I can understand how pro ballplayers say that for the most part they don’t hear the fans because they are concentrating so hard. And I can also understand when they say that they aren’t really thinking about the play they are about to make, because for that moment, I stopped thinking. Thinking only seems to cloud your judgment in a split-second situation. You just have to go with your instincts and trust that your body knows what to do.
I swear to God the ball just held in the air a few seconds longer so that I could get under it. There is no way I should have even had a shot to catch that ball. As I got closer, I realized it was going to be unbelievably close and I was going to have to lay out for it. With my legs churning as fast as humanly possible, I dropped to the ground and slid exactly underneath where I thought the ball would land. The combination of my momentum with that of my sudden slide jerked my body into a contortion of twisted and mingled limbs. I didn’t see where the ball went, but I knew I had judged it correctly and that my glove should have been perfectly in place. I ended up seated on my ass and I finally glanced down into my calling glove. The outside fingers were covered in flecks of grass and spots of dirt, but right there in my palm pocket was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes upon; a bright and gleaming white softball. I sat there stunned and just stared into my glove for what seemed like hours. In reality, half a second after I caught the thing, Fellner was right there behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. It was at that moment his hand touched me that time sped back up. As sound flooded my ears, I shot to my knees and rocketed the ball back into the infield. I swear the whole thing took at least 60 seconds. An outside observer would truthfully say it was over from start to finish within 6 or 7. As I jogged back into centerfield, I just couldn’t shake that feeling I’d just had. No thinking whatsoever. Not even being aware of the world around me. Just being. Somebody could have shot me and I swear I would have kept running and not realized my wound until Fellner touched my shoulder. It’s what I’ve been trying to feel for so long and I finally achieved it. Through baseball…
I had a few more balls hit to me, but none of those catches even compared to the first one. We ended up losing 23-3, but when you think about it, 3 runs is the most we have ever scored in a game, so I was impressed. I uploaded my stats if anybody even gives a rat’s ass.
God I miss baseball……….
And one last thing on an entirely different subject? What the hell is up with everybody changing their messages boards over to XMB? I hate XMB. It reminds me of this:
Simpsons Quote:
Bart: I didn’t think it was physically possible, but this both sucks and blows.
The Shyzers are in danger of being eliminated from the playoffs having never played a game in it yet. I’m two seconds away from going door-to-door asking random girls to come play for us since we can’t find another damn girl who isn’t too prissy to come get dirty and play. I’m serious, if we don’t have 1 final girl lined up to come play by, say, 4:00 tomorrow, I’m going door-to-door in this apartment complex until I find somebody.
Well, I did happen to learn something while working on my essay last night. No, it wasn’t about how we were a little over 2 hours away from nuclear destruction or how General LeMay was a total asshole. Na, it had nothing to do with the Cuban Missile Crisis at all in fact. It had to do with proving an age-old theory I had always held, which stated that if I go to bed early in hopes of getting up early and finishing my essay, I will oversleep. I woke up about 20 minutes after my essay was due, so I just rolled out of bed and took my time finishing it and whatnot. A 5% late penalty isn’t all that bad, and besides, does it really matter? Not at all my friends, not at all.
I think I was meant to oversleep however. Because had I not overslet, I would have been in class around 2 PM. And had I been in class at 2 PM, I wouldn’t have noticed that a guy I haven’t talked to in over a year was on-line. In fact, Fellner and I were talking about him not too long ago, wondering if he was even still alive, or how his surfing career was going and whether or not he’d become engaged for the billionith time only to find himself another women. And so there I was, just typing my essay taking a break and looking at my buddy list when I saw he was on. Good ‘ole Kline. Now Kline is one of those guys that such a HUGE jackass that he is funny. All he does is make joke after joke and make fun of people non-stop. If he’s your friend, he’s hilarious. If not, then you hate his guts. And that’s exactly how it should be. Turns out he might be coming back to our hometown within the coming months, so if so, expect some great Kline stories.
Now, unfortunately, I have to comment on this. Look, I love the Simpsons. They are….well, were great. But there comes a time when a show must accept the fact that they are no longer funny. That was what wasgreat with Seinfeld’s exit. They realized that they were out of funny ideas and called it quit, which was the right move. But with The Simpsons, they just keep going and going, and not in the good Energizer Bunny way. Three years ago, I remember only a few funny episodes. Last year, I could only count 3. And by the way this season is going, well 3 might be on the higher end of the spectrum. Come on guys, go out with some class.
Okay, somebody give me something to do on this site. Tell me something you’d like to see on here so that I can work on it because I am bored. Oh, and go give Angela some love since she is feeling like shit. Flu’s suck. And I guess that’s it.
I hate the Eagles. That is all.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
SKIN’S BEEN CANCELLED! How oh how could they drop this show after only 3 episodes? Did they finally realize that in the first episode alone, they wasted every ounce of material they had for at least 2 whole seasons? Did they realize it was their version of Couplings? Or were they just trying to shatter “Falcone’s” record for “Most promos shown during a prolonged sporting event versus number of actual episodes that made the air?”
Or, did they realize that HIS FATHER’S THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY!!
And in the great words of Fellner: “Well, his father was the district attorney.”
I’m heart-broken.
Oh yeah, I’m training for a marathon now. More details to follow.
The IMs are being sent at alarming rates, phone calls are being made 24 hours a day, e-mail are bouncing back since the addresses are so outdated….that’s right folks, a football game is being planned. The “old gang,” as we so cleverly have dubed ourselves, is being rounded up and notified. I lost out on the group pool that one of us would be in jail by now, but I still haven’t gotten in touch with a few guys, so that could easily change within the next few days. To anybody who is going home for Thanksgiving, come play football with us the day after (Friday). IM, call, or E-mail me for more info.
I finally understand why people get their wisdom teeth pulled out. Mine started coming in about a year or so ago and they didn’t hurt at all, so I felt there was no need to run to the dentist and get all drugged up for no reason. And to tell you the truth, having a few extra teeth around to help chew was a comforting thought. I’m always seemed to swallow food a little too quickly, which is never as fun as it sounds. But a few weeks ago, I started getting canker sores right around the four spots where the teeth had come in. And I swear they’ve grown bigger and more painful. Me buying that 2 quarts of orange juice didn’t help matters either, since the acid in it seems to burn them. I really need to get a dentist appointment here soon.
And speaking of appointments I need to get, what’s the longest period of time that anybody has ever used the same contact? I’m closing in on the 11 month mark for my right eye and we swear that we are gonna make it to our 1 year anniversary. I found an old stash of somebody’s contact when my family was moving and they happened to be the same perscription for my left eye, so I’ve been able to replace those every month. Who says you can’t make a 1-a-day contact last 30-a-days? I just need to get that lasic eye surgery after I graduate and never worry about these damn things again.
I got my cam set up, which can be accessed by the remote over there on the right. I need to get a small picture of my cam up so that people know what the hell the remote is talking about, but I’ll work on that later. Right now, I am need to be working on my major History essay that is due on Wednesday. Classically, I have only accomplished to write my name and date on the paper. Every time I think about a title, I get flustered and go take a 24 hour break. I’m running out of 24 hours though. But honestly, I couldn’t care less =)
Homer: Step aside everyone! Sensitive love letters are my specialty! ‘Dear Baby, Welcome to Dumpsville. Population: you.’
Thanks to Fellner, Caitlin, Jess, and Angela for commenting on my picture gallery. I should be uploading just a few more to it tonight. Also, I wanted to point out that anybody can comment on any given picture if they so feel inclined to. Just click on the picture and click ADD COMMENT.
Also, I got my webcam revived from the dead. I also have it set up to where it refreshes every 30 seconds and takes a live picture of me. So you can sit here and watch me watch myself! Just click on the cam image over there and enjoy.
Tip # 47: Never create a password for your e-mail that you are soon to forget.
I finally remembered my password for my old Hotmail account today. My computer had been set up to where it automatically logged into my account when I went to Hotmail, which was a good thing, because I had no idea what my password was. But my computer has crashed 4 times in the past month and a half, so I had no idea what my password was. I tried to recover it through the recovery system, but even I was confused by my secret question. Apparently, I thought I would forever remember my work ID # at the job I had 3 years ago, along with 3 other sets of numbers that I haven’t used in well over 2 years. The 30-day limit was only 1 day away too, so I got lucky since everything in there wasn’t eliminated. However, out of 600 some-odd e-mails, only 5 were anything that I cared to read! Spammers, if you are reading this, for the love of all things holy, never e-mail me again! I don’t know anybody who decides to take up your offer for a lower mortgage or the time share down in Key West. I don’t want an on-line degree from Phoenix University and I’m not
interested in hooking up with skanky, young sluts in my area. I also have no desire to sign up for a credit card with a lower interest rate and for the love of god, if Cindy7346023 and Shelly02348754 send me another e-mail asking if I’d like to see their personal sites, I think I might go postal.
I’m not sure what I’m doing for Thanksgiving. I’m not too bummed about not being with my family during the “holiday.” It’s kind of a recurring theme with the ways things have worked out the last few years =) I know Alex is going home on Thanksgiving Day, so I might head back up there to see him and my Dad and Tommy. What I really want to do sometime soon is go see The Matrix Revolutions in IMAX. I looked on-line to see where the nearest one is playing and the and I found one down in Charleston, so I might do that on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and then head back home. Yes, I would drive an extra 300 miles “just for a movie” because honestly, it’s fitting. The only thing holding me back is money since it might come down to eating versus paying for the ticket and gas. But for this movie, it just might be worth it. I still need to figure out what I’m doing for Christmas Break as well, but that is so far away in the future.
*DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE THIRD MATRIX MOVIE YET*
Okay, I was looking for a post I made a while back because I had a link in it that I wanted. And I stumble across [link to an entry I made last May]. Now, it isn’t the post that surprised me, but all the damn comments that people left that are so new. But I wanted to comment on what Ryan said. The whole “A matrix inside of a matrix” theory is laughable. It was conjured by people who were trying to predict the final “twist” to the movie. The reason they failed is quite simple. (1) It’s way too predictable and (2) It would have nothing to do with the religious aspect of the movies.
*OKAY, ALL CLEAR*
Seeing all those new comments made me go click through all my old post to see if there were any more new ones and I’ll be damned if there weren’t. There were a ton of comments that people had made, many in the last few weeks, on posts I had made as long ago as a year ago. So this is to all you people out there who like to comment on old posts: Leave me a message on the tag board over there so I’ll know to go read it!
And now, a Simpsons quote.
Homer’s ghost: Marge you gotta help me, I have to do one good deed to get into heaven.
Marge: Well I got a whole list of chores: clean the garage, paint the house…
Homer’s ghost: Whoa whoa whoa. I’m just trying to get in, I’m not running for Jesus
