Shyzer.com

“Recap of the Bill Bavasi era to date:

Sign Raul Ibanez for 4 million a year. Bad move.
Re-sign Shigetoshi Hasegawa for 3 million a year. Questionable move.
Fail to offer arbitration to Arthur Rhodes. Bad move.
Fail to offer arbitration to Mike Cameron. Bad move.

You never know how much you’ll miss something until it is gone. Mike Cameron, thanks for the great years. Good luck with your future team. Hopefully a better ballpark and an organization not obsessed with strikeouts will lead to a year that allows folks to realize the value you have to a club. I’ll never forget

Oh, and the Mariners offered arbitration to Pat Borders “due to the special relationship he has with this club.” I am unable to rationally comment on this tonight.” - U.S.S. Mariner

The Mariners will never win a world championship until they finally get an owner who cares about winning, unlike the current Japanese owner we have who has never even seen a live professional baseball game. We will never win a world championship until we replace the men in the front office who are yes-men to their bosses and who believe in the “spend as little as possible in order to make a profit” philosophy. It is no secret since the owner of the team has publicly stated this his one and only intention is to make money, not to win a championhsip. He understand that a winning team makes the most money, so he spends around $80 million (most of which is spent through highly overpaying many of the players) which allows him to pull in a profit every year since the team he fields does well enough to draw a crowd, but not well enough to beat the big boys.

It’s 1 AM, I have an exam tomorrow that I have yet to start studying for, and I feel more depressed right now then I have in weeks. Fuck my exam, fuck the letter that the The OCPT sent me, and fuck the Mariners.

Somebody remind me why I love this team or else I might have to go and start cheering for a team that actually cares about their fans. I’m talking about your team.

We here at Shyzer take foodnaping very seriously. Such an offense should never be taken lightly and it is for this reason alone that I feel I should respond and accept the demands of The OCPT.

I recieved this ransom note earlier tonight and found it quite disturbing. Apparently Fellner has gotten on the wrong side of somebody and they have gone and abducted his prized Oatmeal Creme Pies. We all know how attached he is to his food and I shudder to think of how far and how much food this thief might end up stealing and holding hostage. I’m not quite sure why my name is mentioned in the ransom note, but I can only speculate and come to the conclusion that the OCPT didn’t want Fellner mistakenly suspecting me of stealing his food, which was actually kind of nice of him (or her…)

I’m not sure I would risk going against the will of The OCPT and actually messing with my food. That could really piss him (or her!) off…

Anyways, I felt it was my civic duty to post this note as not only a warning to Fellner, but to everybody else out there. Please, please be on the lookout for The OCPT and if anybody has any information they would care to pass along, they can leave it in the comments for this post. I will personally give anybody $10,000 for any information leading to the capture of this heinous criminal.*

Please folks, we must all band together and stop this madman. Watch over your children as they play in the yard, don’t answer your door if the person outside will not identify themselves, and for the love of God, lock all your food away safely and securly.

Together, we can put an end to the reign of terror The OCPT has brought upon us…

*(minus a $99,999.99 reward tax)

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I stole this from Kat. I thought it was hilarious and so I am share it with you.

Go to Google, type in “miserable failure” and hit the “I’m feeling lucky” button.

So what if I lied to you all and said this post would be up yesterday? What are ya gonan do about it? Huh? HUH? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Like I’ve been saying for weeks, I finally finished comparing Dean and Clark and like I said, Dean is the better option. So eat it Fellner. eat it Fellner.

Thanksgiving Break was awesome. I honestly did way too much to talk about in detail on here, so I’ve decided to give a quick summary. I got home, saw the family, ate some turkey, scored a touchdown, recieved a concussion, went out to dinner with Jess, passed out due to my concussion, went to a fancy dinner in Ashville, stayed up from 5 PM to 8 AM watching a marathon of the first season of 24, spent more time with the family, came back to school. See, wasn’t that all you really wanted to know? I took plenty of pictures, however, so expect an update to the gallery section within a week or two. They are all mainly family photos, so I now have some current pictures of my siblings!

I called Dell last night and was surprised to find out that the wait time for the support help was only around 10 minutes. I soon discovered why it was only around 10 minutes though. Apparently many computer companies, including Dell, hire cheap-labor technicians and set up call centers in India. I was introduced to Apu from the Kwik-E-Mart and he walked me through an hour and a half of stuff I had already tried before. Finally he told me that my initial assumption was correct and that my hard drive had indeed crashed. So in the next 2-3 business days, I should be getting a new drive. And HOPEFULLY this drive will allow me to install Win XP on it, because I am so damn sick of Win ME.

I just freaking got back in Columbia! So here is your update that you all so desperately want
I get back to my apartment, my computer crashes for the 9th time in 4 months, I call Dell, Dell tells me to screw myself, I attempt to but am unable to figure out how, I realize that I am late for work, I stop typing now to go leave for work.

Thank God I have all my Shyzer files on-line. Everything else was lost again for the 9th time and I refuse to replace it all until Dell sends me another hard drive. Tomorrow I am pretty busy, but trust me, I’ll actually post a “real” post then.

Also, this means that Merlin has died. RIP Merlin (2003)

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 recieved 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 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 litered 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.