Wednesday, June 16, 2004

When I Move You Move, Just Like Butt

This is the very brief holla I promised yesterday. Stuff worked out excellently today, so I will be able to leave fresh and early in the morning, going to sleep very soon. Be in the TC on Friday and updating sometime later. We'll see.

If you aren't watching the second season of Reno 911 you need to get your act together. The first 5 minutes of tonights episode is funny as fucking hell. Goal is to drive all the way to Mad-town tomorrow, crashing with my bro, and taking it the rest of the way on Friday. I think I am going to have McGriddles for breakfast, which really spices up the whole day.

Take me to the pilot.



Tuesday, June 15, 2004

They Rally Round the Family, With a Pocketful of Butt

T-minus one more fucking day of work and I get to come home to the TC, get married, and finally have some days off. I know I will be hella busy while I am in town, not to mention that I still have 16ish hours of driving ahead of me, Nonetheless, anything that does not involve me being at the Wal-Mart is a step in the right direction. I am so used to repeating "single or double prints (pause) cd or an index print at all (pause) be ready for you in about an hour" that I think I would probably blurt it out in the throes of passion. Better than "do me like a salamander on crack" but not by much. I wonder what a salamander would be like on crack. You know who would be fucking hilarious on crack, the Geico Gecko. Maybe dude does alot of acid or something, it would explain why Zoid and Lord Gorlock came to life and threatened each other with blasters and such or where he got the sweet little blue car. Even makes slightly more sense out of him spinning in a field with a hot human chick, she was probably just a really beefy pale gecko.

Anywho, there is this new commercial playing on the Wal-Mart TV network which is a suggestion from Family Living Magazine (which I have never read or even actually seen, but assume is some family values inspired home-cooking-cleaning-not doing drugs-teaching your children to hate the liberals sort of rag) about how to have a nice summer barbecue. It suggests that you grill some corn on the cob and apply a spicy sauce made from some herbs, none of which can be accurately described as spicy, and mayonaise, which is a disgusting idea. The disgustingnessosity of putting mayonnaise on corn when butter has no disads and lots of advantagest, for instance, not sucking, is not the issue here however, the issue is the opening line of the commercial, which I cognitively know is "Are you up to your ears in corn" but every fucking time, sounds like "Are you up to your ears in porn." This idea I find very humorous especially given the woman's inflection in the sentence, which I have no idea how to convey in print format. By the way, I get the whole attempt to pun on "ears of corn" but no non-farmers ever find themselves with a problematic surplus of corn. You buy corn from Pahl's fucking market, or other random roadside stand, on the way home from work or a baseball game and cook it up that night. You only buy like a dozen ears, its not like they sell it by the tractorfull. Find a better fucking intro, you don't have to use punnery to convey the shitty idea you are shlucking off on Wal-Mart customers as novel innovation.

The national debate tournament is being held this week in Salt Lake City. I don't have much involvement with any of the people there this time around, but apparently none of the teams from Southern MN NFL even cleared this year, after placing three of the top 6 the last go round. Thats pretty fucking incredible, a greater acheivement than a single conference getting 3 teams to the elite eight one year and not qualifying a single one to the dance the next time. These kids are still hella good debaters, this shouldn't take away from their performances and acheivements,not to mention all the various complicating factors of schedules judges and general nationals hullabaloo, but I would never have imagined this shit. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

Speaking of losing some, LA is well on the way to giving away the NBA finals to the Detroilet Pistons. I won't count my chickens, both because they have yet to hatch, and because I have no chickens. So the counting session would be really really boring. It would be analogous to counting my alligators before they had sex with a microwave.

I will at least holla goodbye at ya manana, but I promise little more from my entries for the next two weeks or so. I do promise some Twin Cities and wedding wrap-up when I am back in Assalo, but thats a ways in el futuro.



Sunday, June 13, 2004

Can't Get the Stink Off, It's Been Hanging Round For Butt

So Katie asked me what she should suggest is served at some bridal shower for her that someone is throwing. The details aren't important here. Well, a couple details are important here, but I haven't gotten to them yet. Here they are: the people throwing this shower are veg-heads, they are nice, good friends of Katie and her family. Katie wanted to ask me what some luncheon style foods that she would like might be. Another relevant detail is that Katie hates mayonnaise. No is the answer to the obvious question, she doesn't hate eggs or oil when not emulsified, which is all mayonnaise is, but nonetheless. Hence, what would normally be the obvious choices, pasta salds, chicken salads, etc are out of the question. For the most part I back up these decisions. Pasta salad swallows the stuff which its sauce looks like. Pasta shouldn't be served cold and salads need to involve lettuce, preferably good non-iceberg lettuces. My suggestion was sandwiches, but since no meat is involved in this situation a sandwich is really just a salad on bread. Katie told me that I wasn't being helpful, and I wasn't, and then suggested that I think more summery. To which I responded with the obvious answer, barbecue. Of course you can't really have barbecue without meat, I mean I guess you could grill some veggies, but thems side-dishes by anyone's definition of the term. Finally, I realized what the problem is and I was best able to explain it via analogy.

Having a dinner or lunch party without meat is like inviting your guests over to dinner, then when you answer the door, instead of getting them a drink and some food, just punching them in the face. This needs the premise I always include when I josh on the non-fleshially inclined. You can eat whatever the fuck you want, I don't care. You are allowed to make that choice as you obviously should be. Eat cat feces if you want, so long as I can still get a double-porter at Mannys. The point is however, you can't throw an eating intensive party type thing and not have fucking meat. You can have a party without meat, maybe its an evening soiree and there are just chips and dip and shitty around, fine. Thats cool. You can even have a very casual get together without any meat, Kiarianna almost never had non-vegetarian food at reading groups, virtually every dinner I've had with a class at some random profs house was meat free, thats cool. The focus of the thing wasn't eating, it was just a bonus beyond class. You just have a couple over for pizza or something, chure. All good. You could even get away with it if you do some specification like "Vegetarian Dinner" or something, though I can't imagine you are going to get many people to show up with that kind of an invite. You might as well just write "Don't Even Bother" on the RSVP line of the invitation, it'll save everyone alot of time. If we are talking serious eating, time to get down and fucking munch (hehhheheheheheheh ;) ) you need some actual food. Admittedly, I doubt I will get invited to many bridal showers over the course of my life, though you never can tell. Even so, if I was a person who did get invited to bridal showers and had spent several afternoons in my life chowing on weak Earl Gray and Watercress Tea-Sandwiches, I would be overjoyed to show up to the scent of pulled pork sandwiches, BBQ beans, and cornbread. I would proclaim it Greatest Bridal Shower ever on the spot. That is that.

Whoa, Karl Malone's daughter is kinda cute. Thats fucked up, how does that work out. It forces me to rethink my whole total hatred of Karl Malone. Well, it doesn't reallly force me to rethink it, but it almost complicates it. Not really. What it does prove is my theory that Jan's girlfriend has the least reason to exist of anyone in all of time, because even Karl Malone, someone fimly in contention for that coveted title, has a hot daughter.

I get to come home in like 4 days. Its gonna be sweet. I think I forgot to mention, and I don't know how I fucking forgot to mention this, because it has been the only thing I have really been doing besides watching TV, but I have been hanging out with a stuffed pug dog that Katie sent me as a fantastic present last week. I named him William the Puggy, and I call him Spike for short. It was inevitable that I would name someone or thing after the Buffyverse, and since Katie has repeatedly shot down both Willow Rosenpug and Alyson Hannipug (as well as the non-Buffy related, but still good, Maggie Gyllenpug and Vladimir Pugtin). I really dig Spike, he is officially my best friend in Buffalo, beating out No One and his brother Stupidhead Fuckface. He watches TV with me all day and goes to sleep about the same time I do. Its hella convenient. Spike is originally from St. Paul, but he was a very young puppy when he lived there, so I doubt he remembers it well. We will have to introduce him to the finer things that accompany a Minnesota lifestyle, money, cash, hoes, etc.

Alright, I am going to root the Pistons on in their last 8 minute push against the fucking Lake-show. Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot.



Saturday, June 12, 2004

Can't Do Without it, This Feeling's Got Me Weak in the Butt

So I am watching the MTV Movie Awards, which are somewhat interesting, but mostly just a warm up for the VMAs in September. There was a time when they hadn't yet decided whether the Movie awards would just be an excuse to get a bunch of celebs together, or something legit, so they did it live and all that jazz. Now its fucking tape delayed, people just show up wearing jeans, its less interesting. I was kinda psyched that Lindsay Lohan was hosting, because she has been entertainment gold for the last little while (excluding Freaky Friday) with Mean Girls, SNL, and at least one or two other things I don't remember. The ads MTV was showing for the awards show did the typical promotion of her breasts, but about halfway through the show Lindsay's top half has been largely absent, maybe what I thought was an obvious formula has been disproven. The only other observation I have from this show is that the Beastie Boys are old. I mean, they were still pretty good, but they are fucking old. Its really odd to see any 40 year old dudes doing hip hop moves and shizzy, especially white guys with gray hair. I don't know why that is, I guess its probably because there are just so few of them and white hip hop guys are only finally growing old enough to be noticeabl.e That was rambling and unexplanatory. I fucking rock.

Pablo Francisco didn't make it through on Last Comic Standing, which is incredibly ridiculous. Dude is fucking hilarious, already has half hour specials on Comedy Central, and didn't even make the top 20. That said, the selections were high quality for the most part. This dude Dan Nattington, who I found fucking hilarious, is a kind of Steven Wright-Rodney Dangerfield comic, both because he sort of combines their unique voices and the one line style of comedy which is so hard to pull off. I don't think he is as good at it as, say, Mitch Hedberg, but its still good. I'm not sure if that will make him a funny dude in the house or not, people who can really pull it off, Rodney himself for instance, are about as funny as people come. you can totally have it on stage and be a dud once you step off the mic. Step off the mic. Sounds like some spoken word sequel to Bring in the Noise, Bring in the Funk. I suppose Def Poetry Jam already fulfills that role, but you can't get too much funky poetry. Let me rehash that sentence, funky poetry sucks. I mean, funky poetry is not unique in that regard, its more that poetry sucks. Here are your options, you can do some sort of musical performance, rapping singing etc. or you can talk. Fuck this whole talking to a rhythm that isn't audible shit. When poetry was cool...That wasn't actually an attempt to start a sentence. It was a demonstration of the fact that you cannot begin a reasonable sentence with the phrase "When poetry was cool." You could try to make it into some joke about how long ago it was when poetry was cool, but its not a good joke because not only was poetry was never cool but because jokes about poetry are not funny. Seriously, bring your best fucking punchline about poetry. Poetry is lame, write a song or write a story. You don't just get to list a bunch of words and call it something fancy. For a long time I maintained my argument that poems need to rhyme and I maintain that argument. Notably, when I make that argument I am really just thinking about Colerdige poems. I won't deny that this somewhat complicates my argument, but in my defense Coleridge's poems are essentially just stories in verse. There aren't really allegories or lists of words, manupulations of rhythm or timing in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. It would be pretty much just as good if it wasn't a poem, the story is sweet. Fine, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is a sweet poem, I admit it. Still, fuck poetry.

Man Jack Black fucking stole my fucking look again. He's got this sweet beard thing going on, just like I do, and while he looks slightly more pyampya in that motherfucker than me, I still think he ripped me off. I would trust you to believe that I really do have a pretty long full beard at this point, since almost none of you have seen me, and I will likely have shorn it by the time you do, but you are all fucking liars and disbelievers. Disbelievers and liars, disbefuckingliars. He is wearing a VOTE KERRY tetro t-shirt, which is kinda cool, and he is really fucking baked.

I had a bad ass ice cream sundae tonight. It was pretty much an assemblage of the various sweet things I have left in the apartment. There was some Breyer's Peanut Butter and Fudge Ice Cream, some toasted walnuts, some chocolate, some whipped cream, and some Samoa crumbs which had gathered at the bottom of the Samoa box, as Samoa crumbs are want to do. It was bad ass overall, the perfect blend of crunchy and creamy and fudgy and chewy. It was like they do at those bad ass ice cream places, which are like 5 bucks for a one scoop sundae, but otherwise entirely bad ass. I mean, Baskin Robbins puts out some damn fine ice cream sundaes. Every time they land a movie promotion and make a specialty dish for it I am like damn, get e some of that action. If you ever make it into one of the 2 or 3 Baskin Robbins locations in the country and try one of these sundaes you will be blown away both by the deliciousness and the tininess. You get like two bites and then you can sop up all the melted cream and leftover syrup. I've seen larger nipples on a fly. Let me assure you that my dessert did not fall victim to this problem

Two ads which have annoyed me in the last 10 minutes. 1) ESPN's ad arguing that the X-Games have defined a generation of sports fans. Am I part of that generation or are they referring to like the generation just below me. I guess I can't say for sure, but I don't think the X-Games have defined a generation of anything. Yes, they are big now and weren't before. Yes this is only now become an actual sport. It still seems like there are about 100 billion more fans of every generation who enjoy basketball etc. more than the X-Games. Not a very humorous observation, but one which has been pissing me off. That was the only qualification to make it into this section. Fuck you. 2) What may be the most accurate of all the analogies the anti-drug lobby has come up with yet, wherein not talking to your friends about their problems with drinking or drugs is like letting them drown. Brilliant, thats exactly what its like. When you pull every fucking analogy you can think of and end up blowing things way out of proportion even the accurate things you say sound like bullshit. Learn something from the startling lack of effectiveness the tobacco commercials are dealing with. Shit, I can't find that link. I will keep looking, but its a sweet article which is seriously asking why tobacco rates are rising among younger and younger teens in light of the prevalance of anti-tobacco ads. It was hilarious.

This seems like an especially weak entry, and for that I apologize. I had no focus today, in any department and it shows in my work. My bad jeuce.



Friday, June 11, 2004

I'm Kinda Buzzed and Its All Because, This is How We Do Butt

If you are telling me you believed a week ago that after two games the Pistons would be looking to go up 2-1 on the Lakers beating them by 20 in game 3 then you are a liar. Nostro-dobs-mas, despite his often amazing intuitive properties, couldn't have believed it. If the Lakers manage to pull this series off it will be a travesty, a sham, and a mockery, it will be a traveshamockery. I have been asksing a number of people this question and so far no one can remember anyone else ever using this strategy: Play Shaq like you would play someone else. Don't treat him like someone through a 7 foot 2 400 pound sack of dynamite on the court, just gaurd him, play against him, and let it roll. Seriously, since this dude has been in his prime you either double teamed or denied him the ball or ran a weird zone or the hack-a-shaq or whatever, has anyone ever just played against the dude. Somehow, Larry Brown and the Pistons seem to have found a way to let Shaq get his 30-20 and still win. At some level it makes sense, maybe the Lakers just haven't responded yet, and technically this game isn't over, but its fucking incredible to me at this point, blowing my fucking mind.

I've had the chance to talk to our delightful friend Mr. Andy Kemp fairly frequently over the past couple weeks. I have been on my regular communicative schedule with Sanjay, not the occassional droughts where I go a month without hearing from him. I figure its either jail, 40s on sale near his house, or he got lost in Portland, either way there isn't much I can do, so I lay low and wait for his call. If Andy goes missing for that long you have to wonder if got really drunk and took of to Venezuala with a 52 year old bar hag who he decided is "just totally real and like so fucking with it, she like sees the reality of the soul of truthful loving realness" or is in the ICU after pissing on someone whose friend was packing more than the urge to hit on Nikki and a drunken Minnesota attitude. Regardless, I have been talking to Sanjay 1-2 times a week and Andy about once every 6-8 days. We talk about random things, sports, wedding shit, good times etc. I have recently noticed what seems to be the opening fumes to an Andy-Sanjay feud based on what Andy perceives to be his friends hating on his potential to do get shit done. We have always given Andy shit about his ability to do his shit since high school and even if he really does have it entirely together now, he may never be able to live down that rep with people who knew him in the hosue days. Anyway, everyime Andy talks to me he asks me if I was telling Sanjay that he is not going to get his thesis done, and that Sanjay was making fun of him and that I was apparently involved. I don't remember even really discussing it, but I'm sure someone made a joke or something at some point. Its a very "Why are Mommy and Daddy fighting" situation which I can imagine being repeatedly rehashed in several drunken incidents over the coming month.

My other conversation of note with Andy was on Tuesday night, when some comment entirely unrelated to structuralism and post-structuralism was transformed into a fairly thorough discussion of structuralism and poststructrualism. I don't know why this happened, but I also don't know why someone who is so unfamiliar with the tenets of post-structuralism would so vivaciously defend it. I'm not even intending to insult anyone at this particular juncture, neither Andy nor real post-structuralists, though I will regularly insult them both on most occassions. I'm merely saying that everything Andy was defending, though in disagreement with structuralism, was not post-structuralist, at least not based on any reasonable articulation of what consists of post-structuralism known to me. I'm also not being egotistical and attempting to assert that I should know this, but only that in this particular conversation nothing being said was connected to any post-structrualist authors or texts. I know thats not necessary, but its certainly helpful when what is being argued sounds alot more like Plato than Derrida. We have also reached the point in the argument where Andy takes every sentence that you use and simply emphasizes different words in an attempt to make your words an analogy for his argument. This occurs even when you briefly speak on a topic unrelated to the discussion, like "Hold on, Katie's on the other line." Which, if you follow the emphasis, Andy repeats as "HOLD ON, Katie is ON the o-th-er LINE" and then firmly believes this in some way demonstrates the complete arbitrariness of language and thus the chaotic nature of human existence. There are times when people, despite how intelligent they may be in other circumstances, firmly refuse to get something. They fight violently against attempting to actually understand what is going to understand. To prove that I don't mean this offensively against Andy, I will give the best example, which involves Moody, a man who I still think is hella smart. My junior year in high school, after spending way too much time with Mark Molle, who was a really cool kritik guy from Bronx Science who assisted in my lab at Kentucky, I got really into the Normativity argument. I mean, we didn't run it all the time, but I was really into it. Moody, who adamantly refused to accept that Normativity was not a criticism of normalcy, would constantly intervene in our discussions of the debate to jump onto tables and throw apples and scream "No link: I'm not normal!" I am sure Moody could figure out that he was mumbling nonsense here, but he refused to understand. I feel that Andy is in the process of doing this about structuralism, but we will see how long it can last, or if his newfound devotion to study results in his doing some boning up research.

I may even try to call that cat later tonight. Though it is already fairly late. Finally, I should mention that I saw the pug dogs next door outside today. There is a fawn one and a black one and they are both fucking cute as hell. I really want those dogs. Maybe I will get one for my birthday. Maybe Katie will get one for her birthday. Then we could have two and they could play with the two from next door. Or we could just get two more for Christmas and then we wouldn't even need the pug dogs from next door, we would take the shit into our own hands. Hell yizzza.



Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Cause We're Protected By the Covenant of Words and Butt

It has been a long time, I know, a very very long time. I apologize, the whole working at Wal-Mart getting home really late and being tired thing is killin me. I mean, its not literally killing me, but its annoying. Not to mention that without Katie here I never really remember to play around with the computer. I don't know why that is, but since we tend to discuss more about debate shit that occurs on the web, maybe I have to keep up with it more closely in those circumstances. Anyway, I will try to be somewhat more frequent in my updates before I go home for the wedding, and will probably be virtually incognito for that 2 or so weeks. Maybe I am wrong and I will have some time in Minneapolis to drop a line or two. Anyway, don't trust me.

So what has happened that has been of interest. Lets see. I discovered that Wanda Sykes can be funny. That was a fairly significant shock, but she was hilarious. She appeared on the latest Celebrity Poker thing with Mena Suvari, ultimate winner Rosario Dawson, Jerome Bettis, and Travis Tritt. Anyway, I never would have seen these comments, about hillbilly country music, pedophiliac relations to Mena, etc. coming, but they were good. If you enjoy watching poker on TV you should try this episode out whenever it returns to Bravo, which based on their usual schedule, would be about 2 to 3 times every day. Other TV news includes the ambiguous beginning of the now completely hip summer season. Take for instance Summerland, the WB's crazy-mixemup of The O.C. and Party of Five. Aunt Becky of Full House isn't with Uncle Jessie, but she is a fashion designer in some hip California beach town living with an ex-boyfriend, her business partner, and a hard-partying good looking young surf-shop owner. When Aunt Becky (who I will refer to in this fashion as long as Summerland is on the air) inherits her sister's three children mayhem, hilarity, and maybe, just maybe, love, will ensue. It looks to be about on par with something like One Tree Hill. I am worried that the dead parents storyline will be too dominant, but there is already some good underage drinking and angst motifs to go along with the surfing and bikinis. There is definatively no one who matches up to Seth Cohen, but what do you expect from the WB. What is about the only other non-reality program of the summer (I mean, there is North Shore, but I have yet to be convinced that it is not simply going to be Melrose Place to The OC's 90210) Fox debuted The Jury last night in an attempt to remedy the fact that without David E Kelly they haven't had a successful legal show in the better part of a decade. The show is ehh--I like the idea of focusing on the jury to examine a murder case, but that means that a huge majority of the relevant characters do not continue between programs. You've got judges and DAs who are consistent, but its hard to imagine that there is really going to be much audience involvement in a story with three recurrent characters. The show is obviously an attempt to capture whatever it is that CSI realized, looking at somewhat odd murder cases from a non-detective-lawyer standpoint (which, while often interesting, has been done since Perry fucking Mason and Columbo). I don't think anything in the first two episodes gave me any expectation that it will be a hit or critically acclaimed, the cases were offbeat but not CSI quality and the acting was, with the exception of the dude who played Warren who is like the jury-rounder upper, subpar.

As we speak I am watching one of my all time favorite reality shows, Last Comic Standing. I love stand up comedy in general, I am still fucking waiting for Comedy Central to come around and devote a channel to stand up 24-7, they have plenty of programs I think. They don't really have alot of stand up programs on anymore, like they used to with the A-List and Lounge Lizards etc. Regardless, those years are in the bank, you've got all the Comedy Central Presents and the Premium Blend which is still going on. You can just set up a camcorder at the Improv and air the feed as far as I am concerned. This season looks pretty strong, though it always is in the world of stand up. I am continually amazed that people show up on this program who I have seen many times before. I had seen Rick Voss and Geoff Brown, to begin with, last year, and while I dug them anyways I didn't get that they weren't yet made in the comedic world. This year LA's audition included Pablo Francisco, who I have seen many times and always enjoy. He does the movie-introducer voice thing with the Schwarzenegger movie Little Tortilla Boy. Anyway, if you didn't see one of the biggest reality screwjobs of all time last summer, make sure you catch it Tuesday nights this time around.

Work has been, how you say, workish this past week. We have been busy enough that it goes by relatively quickly and not so busy that I can't stand to be in the place. The only thing worth mentioning from work at all is the girl scouts who were outside the store today, selling their wonderful cookies. Katie's mom was considerate enough to purchase us a big case full of various kinds, but it unfortunately was without Samoas,the all time greatest girl scout cookie. Since over a nine day period in the spring-fall season there will be 20-30 different groups outside the exit doors selling or asking for random shit, I continued walking without even lloking to the table at the side. It took about 15 steps towards the car before I mentally registered what was going on behind me and bum rushed the old women surrounding the area. Some would say I overanxiously ripped through the crowd to grab a beautiful purple box, but since they had only three left the old guy who was making fun of me can go fuck himself. He will spend this evening drinking metamucil and failing to understand the concept of cable television, while I will skip eat my caramelly coconut cookies entirely certain that my body will process those delites in the proper fashion. Old people with attitiudes fucking eat shit, I mean, young people with attitudes can swallow it as well, but its just not the same. Rarely is it accompanied by the sense of entitlement and the complete ignorance of how things work these days, but I guess its certainly possible for some teenager to behave in the same fashion.

I wont dwell too much on the sporting events which have occurred since my last post, but a couple deserve note. The T-Wolves obviously bowed out to LA in game 6 but can't be too upset about the run this season, hopefully next year will produce a finals berth. The Pistons, the first Eastern Conference team I believe I have ever cheered for, are way closer in the first two games (well, not exactly close, but winning the first motherfucker) than they should be. Going back to Detroit tied is about as good as anyone could have possibly hoped for, so there is still a chance that Kiddie Porn Malone won't get the ring he so richly wants to shove up his own behind. Everytime I see that dude I want to just eat corn dogs. I am not sure how that relates to my undying hatred for everything he stands for, but it works. The other event which cannot go without mention is the Belmont, which was a very odd moment for me. I missed a couple minutes of work on a long lunch in order to see this race. I was tremendously excited for it, I had been looking forward for all three weeks between after the Preakness. There was something about the call of that race, the announcer's "Oh, this is something special" as Smarty pulled away on the homestretch. When, at that last moment, fucking Birdstone jumped ahead of him, I was devestated. I mean, I didn't lose sleep over it, and I wasn't worried about anything in the larger scheme of things, but I had a very Tony Soprano moment, like the ducks had left the pool. I don't know why it is that I want to see a triple crown winner so badly, but I do. I am genuinely frightened that it will never happen again. Frightened may not be the right word, but worried certainly. I guess it has more similarity to the Tony Soprano thing than I first realized, because the only justification that I can possibly come up with is that I want to be a part of something great. I mean, I can't really say I want to be a part of it, since that implies having something to do with the process, rather than just watching three 2 minute races. I dont want to go all weepy or anything but I want to be able to say that I saw it. I have seen someone shatter 61*, I've seen the Packers win a superbowl, and I know I can't ask for too much more in the sports department. I guess horse racing hops back into the seat with lacrosse and bocce ball until at least the Breeder's Cup.

Alright, I am getting back to the swing of things, but my concentration is still failing me somewhat, so let me work my way back in. I have seven more work days before I get to retrun to Minneapolis. Look forward to seeing everyone in town and telling those of you not in town to go fuck themselves.