So, C and I have a tradition: watching Wheel while eating dinner. It's a fun show. It tests your acumen and it's fun to watch the contestants. My thing is this: do these people lose their brains once the cameras start rolling? Case in point, last night during the final round when Pat has already spun the wheel, this young lady called for an 'O'. Pat said no. The other two contestants went and came back to contestant #1 who AGAIN asked for an 'O'. Now I know Americans have short attention spans, but approximately 30-45 seconds elapsed between the two. And this happens way more than you think.
Topic number two is the ability to go from genius to goat in 3.14159 seconds. You'll have a contestant who, with only three letters on the board will nail a lightning rounder. I mean it could be "Mount St. Helens", there will be only the 'u' in Mount and the second 'e' in Helens and boom, they guess it. Then, it'll be the next puzzle, say "Mork and Mindy" and the contestant will answer "Dork and Wendy". I know, that's not a good example, but people can have absolute brainlock when on this show. And that's not even the bonus round. I understand there's pressure there, unlike the regular wheel, but still, the axons don't fire or something, because some very intelligent human beings can just blow it!
Finally, my favorite. Contestant number 3 knows the puzzle. Got it in the bag. There's a few consonants left. So, instead of spinning or solving like a normal homo sapien, what does #3 do? Buys a stinking vowel! Come on people! You know the puzzle. Buying a vowel won't make you any surer. It will only cost you money. Okay, so, you're in Vegas, and you win $800 at the blackjack table. And you just give $250 back. Does that make sense to you? Me neither. Then why do people do it on Wheel? It's not like Pat was a great dealer and you wanted to be generous because you won so much. Is this in the contract they sign to come on the show? Okay Bill, in the coin toss backstage, you were chosen to buy the unneeded vowel for this episode, so, unless you want to forfeit all your earnings, you must buy a vowel before solving a puzzle, even if you already know it. Do they have snipers in the lighting to pick you off if you don't do it? I don't know. But it's very disturbing. It's like Monopoly in real life. There's a bank error in your favor for $250 and you say no thanks. Geez!
Maybe they're trying to make the Scarecrow look good. "If I only had a brain"
Enjoy your Thursday,
R
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Monday, September 20, 2004
This one goes out to my boy Mike Wu
Eric Allens queries: "Seahawks-Buccaneers: Is Chris Simms the answer at quarterback, or are the Bucs' problems much bigger? Buccaneers coach Jon Gruden is looking for a quarterback who...he doesn't have to worry about bad decisions, poorly thrown balls, etc." This after the game in which "Simms' first pass was tipped by a defensive lineman and nearly intercepted" as well as "He completed 21 of 32 passes for 175 yards, but he also was sacked four times and lost a fumble, in addition to throwing the interception at the end." I mean seriously, did Eric say that with a straight face?
Me and my boy Mike would go back and forth about Chris Simms all the time when we were in college at UT. He practically could've married the guy he gushed about him so often. I, however, was there to bring Mike back down to earth and quote the stats that mattered; in his first full year replacing Major (BIG mistake by Mack Brown), Chris threw more INTs returned for TDs than to our own team. Heck, just the other day, I was watching some college ball and this QB was getting pressured, and instead of taking a sack or throwing a pick, just ran out of bounds. I yelled at the TV "He pulled a Simms!" Doesn't really inspire confidence, I know. So, rewind to the Big XII title game against Colorado three or four years ago. Chris throws 4 picks in the first half, FIRST HALF!!, and Major gets the nod for the last 30 minutes and almost brings us back. Mike comes home a few days later and shouts: "I HATE CHRIS SIMMS!" Welcome to the dark side was my reply. See, rooting for Chris Simms is like rooting for the Cubbies or BoSox. They do just enough right, and hang in there just long enough to get your hopes up, then he throws a momentum-killing pick, or inexplicably runs out of bounds instead of giving the pigskin the old heave ho into the stands. He never produced, NEVER, in big games. And of course it didn't help that he was being coached by the Good Ole Boy, Mack Brown. Those two always took a dive in big games.
But Mike was good-spirited about all the ragging. He knew I was just messing with him, even though his love was blind for two seasons. In the end, he had fun with it at my bachelor party. We went to play lasertag and him and my other boy Chris got me this small white shirt, and wrote on it in pink and yellow highlighter so I'd be easy to see. One of the things he wrote on it was "I LOVE CHRIS SIMMS." Good times, good times. And I still stand by my prediction: No team will ever win a championship with Chris Simms at the helm. Who knows, maybe it'll happen. I know Mike will be there ready with a crow pie.
In related news, we played that doubleheader on Saturday. Dang it was hot, but thank the Lord that the games were 9-11 and not 11-1. Me and Shane were the rushers both games, and we wreaked enough havoc to sack the Q a half dozen times and hurried them enough to cause 4 picks, two of which were returned for TDs in the second game. I caught a few balls, none for touchdowns or extra points. Final scores were 6-0 and 32-0. I was happier with the second game, because we were all winded, especially Shane, and we were playing against a fresh team. That and we finally moved the ball. Helped that I wasn't the center. Thankfully, I'm not too sore. After a 6-week layoff, only my left hammy is really hurting. Not too bad.
Aight, I'm out for now. Got some work to get to. Peace.
R
Me and my boy Mike would go back and forth about Chris Simms all the time when we were in college at UT. He practically could've married the guy he gushed about him so often. I, however, was there to bring Mike back down to earth and quote the stats that mattered; in his first full year replacing Major (BIG mistake by Mack Brown), Chris threw more INTs returned for TDs than to our own team. Heck, just the other day, I was watching some college ball and this QB was getting pressured, and instead of taking a sack or throwing a pick, just ran out of bounds. I yelled at the TV "He pulled a Simms!" Doesn't really inspire confidence, I know. So, rewind to the Big XII title game against Colorado three or four years ago. Chris throws 4 picks in the first half, FIRST HALF!!, and Major gets the nod for the last 30 minutes and almost brings us back. Mike comes home a few days later and shouts: "I HATE CHRIS SIMMS!" Welcome to the dark side was my reply. See, rooting for Chris Simms is like rooting for the Cubbies or BoSox. They do just enough right, and hang in there just long enough to get your hopes up, then he throws a momentum-killing pick, or inexplicably runs out of bounds instead of giving the pigskin the old heave ho into the stands. He never produced, NEVER, in big games. And of course it didn't help that he was being coached by the Good Ole Boy, Mack Brown. Those two always took a dive in big games.
But Mike was good-spirited about all the ragging. He knew I was just messing with him, even though his love was blind for two seasons. In the end, he had fun with it at my bachelor party. We went to play lasertag and him and my other boy Chris got me this small white shirt, and wrote on it in pink and yellow highlighter so I'd be easy to see. One of the things he wrote on it was "I LOVE CHRIS SIMMS." Good times, good times. And I still stand by my prediction: No team will ever win a championship with Chris Simms at the helm. Who knows, maybe it'll happen. I know Mike will be there ready with a crow pie.
In related news, we played that doubleheader on Saturday. Dang it was hot, but thank the Lord that the games were 9-11 and not 11-1. Me and Shane were the rushers both games, and we wreaked enough havoc to sack the Q a half dozen times and hurried them enough to cause 4 picks, two of which were returned for TDs in the second game. I caught a few balls, none for touchdowns or extra points. Final scores were 6-0 and 32-0. I was happier with the second game, because we were all winded, especially Shane, and we were playing against a fresh team. That and we finally moved the ball. Helped that I wasn't the center. Thankfully, I'm not too sore. After a 6-week layoff, only my left hammy is really hurting. Not too bad.
Aight, I'm out for now. Got some work to get to. Peace.
R
Friday, September 17, 2004
Driving is an art form
At least it is to me. I take pride in the fact that I hardly use my brakes. Part of it requires vision. You're looking up to half a mile ahead of you to see what's going on in the traffic and make your moves accordingly. You don't swerve back and forth between lanes trying to get there faster, you make a single lane choice and stick to it. Take for example when I'm going home. I spend a little over a mile on I-35 going from Louis Henna to Wells Branch. Getting on to I-35, the lane continues till the Grand Ave exit, so you have essentially four lanes. Now, the key to everything is taking a scan of things, both ahead and behind, while you're on the access road and taking a quick check when you're getting on. If it's open, I'll head over to the outside lane as soon as I can. If not, I'll look to the exit lane and see how quickly people are getting over. Many times, people don't take advantage of this and sit sequestered behind a sea of cars when they could be passing them up!
That brings me to the subject of merging. Now, I know, as the car coming onto the highway, it is that car's job to merge. Now, being at the age of twenty five (almost 26), I have mellowed a bit. If I see a car coming up to get on and I have room in front of me, then I'll back off and let them merge. Makes for a peaceful drive. In my younger years, I'd block that person. But, as my wife would point out, I get angry when they do that to me. Which is quite true. Had a bonehead a few weeks ago speed up to cut me off getting onto 35. I had timed my entry where I could coast right in in front of him, but no, punk had to cut me off. So, now enraged, I got around him the first chance I could, and whipped just in front of his bumper getting back over. Sometimes you just gotta send a message. Or I could just let it go, which I will try to do more.
Now, tailgating is a hard thing. Sometimes, if you are in a legitimate hurry, or on a long trip and somebody's just sitting in the outside lane with nobody in front of them, you gotta get on their tail. I prefer flashing the lights before I get too close to need to tailgate, but some people think the flashing of the lights is impolite. I reason that's it's nicer for me to flash you when I'm a tenth of a mile away than to tailgate you. Notice, though, that I italicized the part about having space in front. If we're on the freeway and you've got people in front of you, I'll back off, because it ain't gonna do me no good to get on your tail. My problem is with people who do this. So, my point of attack is thus: the headshake, the slow down, the tap, then the brake-slam (only alone, not with people in the car). Initially, I look into my rear-view so you can see me and shake my head, in effect saying "Excuse me, but would you mind backing off a wee bit? I'd greatly appreciate it." If that doesn't work, I progress to the slow down, where I just let off the gas and gradually decrease my speed. This usually gets to most people, so I don't have to go further. If you're still not getting it, then I let you get on my tail, then tap the brakes to say "Hey fellow, you seem 'em brake lights? Best not to get too close." Then, if you're incredibly dense, I will not hesitate to slam my brakes. Thankfully, I've never had to do this. My dad did this one time with me in the car and scared the crap out of me. Dude smoked his tires trying not to hit us though! I think he finally got the message.
Next on my soapbox is the right turn into traffic. Now, you'd think, at least I would, that most people, when having a lane available, would go ahead and turn. I am amazed by the myriad drivers who, when faced with a two-lane road, will, even if the closest lane is unoccupied, sit there if someone is coming in the further lane. Now, tell me why in the world you would just sit there with open road in front of you. Gets my ire up. Because, since you're being a fraidy cat, I have to wait for you and possibly miss a light that will make me miss the next light, et cetera and so on. So, get the heck outta the way!
Now, my personal favorite, talking on your cellphone while driving. I have almost been run off the road at least thrice by people yakking while attempting to navigate traffic. Each time it has scared the dickens out of me. Not good times people. Not good times. So, if you're reading this and you feel I'm talking straight to you, please, hang up and drive. You got plenty of time to talk when you get home. Or at least get a 'hands-free' thing. C has one, and I have no problem with her talking to me on her way to work or on her way home. Still, you can be distracted while driving and not worry about checking your mirrors or the lane next to you. This is also available in other forms, such as women putting their makeup on, people trying to eat, and I have even seen someone trying to read, one reading a book and another trying to help the navigator figure out where they're going. THAT'S WHY YOU HAVE A NAVIGATOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!!! If you have to talk on your phone, if you need to doll yourself up, if you need to eat or discipline your kids or read your map to find out just how lost you are, please, oh please, get off the road. Don't go to the shoulder, because most red-blooded Americans can't help but slam on their brakes to see what mayhem has taken place. Go to a gas station or a fast-food parking lot.
Okay, last one I swear. Speaking of the red-blooded Americans, why can't we just keep rolling along if there's been a wreck? Why can't we recognize there is a wreck, but also recognize that if you are to slow down to rubberneck/gawk, you are in good chances of creating one yourself. Please, just keep driving. Just keep driving, driving, driving. Ha ha ha ha ha haaa... Think Dory singing "Swimming" in Finding Nemo. I don't know how many time I've come inches from someone's bumper and vice-versa because people are looking for blood and guts instead of getting their butts out the way.
Have a good weekend folks. Hopefully when I come back Monday I won't be too sore from football.
R
That brings me to the subject of merging. Now, I know, as the car coming onto the highway, it is that car's job to merge. Now, being at the age of twenty five (almost 26), I have mellowed a bit. If I see a car coming up to get on and I have room in front of me, then I'll back off and let them merge. Makes for a peaceful drive. In my younger years, I'd block that person. But, as my wife would point out, I get angry when they do that to me. Which is quite true. Had a bonehead a few weeks ago speed up to cut me off getting onto 35. I had timed my entry where I could coast right in in front of him, but no, punk had to cut me off. So, now enraged, I got around him the first chance I could, and whipped just in front of his bumper getting back over. Sometimes you just gotta send a message. Or I could just let it go, which I will try to do more.
Now, tailgating is a hard thing. Sometimes, if you are in a legitimate hurry, or on a long trip and somebody's just sitting in the outside lane with nobody in front of them, you gotta get on their tail. I prefer flashing the lights before I get too close to need to tailgate, but some people think the flashing of the lights is impolite. I reason that's it's nicer for me to flash you when I'm a tenth of a mile away than to tailgate you. Notice, though, that I italicized the part about having space in front. If we're on the freeway and you've got people in front of you, I'll back off, because it ain't gonna do me no good to get on your tail. My problem is with people who do this. So, my point of attack is thus: the headshake, the slow down, the tap, then the brake-slam (only alone, not with people in the car). Initially, I look into my rear-view so you can see me and shake my head, in effect saying "Excuse me, but would you mind backing off a wee bit? I'd greatly appreciate it." If that doesn't work, I progress to the slow down, where I just let off the gas and gradually decrease my speed. This usually gets to most people, so I don't have to go further. If you're still not getting it, then I let you get on my tail, then tap the brakes to say "Hey fellow, you seem 'em brake lights? Best not to get too close." Then, if you're incredibly dense, I will not hesitate to slam my brakes. Thankfully, I've never had to do this. My dad did this one time with me in the car and scared the crap out of me. Dude smoked his tires trying not to hit us though! I think he finally got the message.
Next on my soapbox is the right turn into traffic. Now, you'd think, at least I would, that most people, when having a lane available, would go ahead and turn. I am amazed by the myriad drivers who, when faced with a two-lane road, will, even if the closest lane is unoccupied, sit there if someone is coming in the further lane. Now, tell me why in the world you would just sit there with open road in front of you. Gets my ire up. Because, since you're being a fraidy cat, I have to wait for you and possibly miss a light that will make me miss the next light, et cetera and so on. So, get the heck outta the way!
Now, my personal favorite, talking on your cellphone while driving. I have almost been run off the road at least thrice by people yakking while attempting to navigate traffic. Each time it has scared the dickens out of me. Not good times people. Not good times. So, if you're reading this and you feel I'm talking straight to you, please, hang up and drive. You got plenty of time to talk when you get home. Or at least get a 'hands-free' thing. C has one, and I have no problem with her talking to me on her way to work or on her way home. Still, you can be distracted while driving and not worry about checking your mirrors or the lane next to you. This is also available in other forms, such as women putting their makeup on, people trying to eat, and I have even seen someone trying to read, one reading a book and another trying to help the navigator figure out where they're going. THAT'S WHY YOU HAVE A NAVIGATOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!!! If you have to talk on your phone, if you need to doll yourself up, if you need to eat or discipline your kids or read your map to find out just how lost you are, please, oh please, get off the road. Don't go to the shoulder, because most red-blooded Americans can't help but slam on their brakes to see what mayhem has taken place. Go to a gas station or a fast-food parking lot.
Okay, last one I swear. Speaking of the red-blooded Americans, why can't we just keep rolling along if there's been a wreck? Why can't we recognize there is a wreck, but also recognize that if you are to slow down to rubberneck/gawk, you are in good chances of creating one yourself. Please, just keep driving. Just keep driving, driving, driving. Ha ha ha ha ha haaa... Think Dory singing "Swimming" in Finding Nemo. I don't know how many time I've come inches from someone's bumper and vice-versa because people are looking for blood and guts instead of getting their butts out the way.
Have a good weekend folks. Hopefully when I come back Monday I won't be too sore from football.
R
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Just for laughs
C and I were driving home from Bible study Tuesday night and, upon seeing a Hearse up ahead, I said "Look, there's a Hearse." C doesn't miss a beat in responding "And there's not exactly." For those of you who don't know, that's the tagline for the Hertz rent-a-car commercials: "There's Hertz and there's not exactly." Good marketing on their part.
There've been many funny commercials over the years, from Wendy's "Where's the Beef?" spots to many of the beer commercials now that have been riotous. And you know that the funniest of them premier during the Super Bowl, where, oddly enough, the game is somewhat of a formality. It's the thing you have to watch to get to the commercials. During the Super Bowl parties our Sunday school has had the past three years, it is stated before the game begins that talking will only be allowed during the game. No talking during commercials whatsoever.
Some of the best, in my estimation, the Outpost.com ad where they released a pack of rabid wolves on a marching band, the Terry Tate Office Linebacker series, and most beer commercials. The latter being the sad part, because you don't want kids or adults to have a fun picture of beer.
If you want some laughs and have time to burn, visit ESPN.com's Page 2, especially The Boston Sports Guy, Bill Simmons. Take care.
There've been many funny commercials over the years, from Wendy's "Where's the Beef?" spots to many of the beer commercials now that have been riotous. And you know that the funniest of them premier during the Super Bowl, where, oddly enough, the game is somewhat of a formality. It's the thing you have to watch to get to the commercials. During the Super Bowl parties our Sunday school has had the past three years, it is stated before the game begins that talking will only be allowed during the game. No talking during commercials whatsoever.
Some of the best, in my estimation, the Outpost.com ad where they released a pack of rabid wolves on a marching band, the Terry Tate Office Linebacker series, and most beer commercials. The latter being the sad part, because you don't want kids or adults to have a fun picture of beer.
If you want some laughs and have time to burn, visit ESPN.com's Page 2, especially The Boston Sports Guy, Bill Simmons. Take care.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Football...Finally!
A few weeks ago, I had checked the online TV Guide, as I do each day, to see what was on the telly (as those folks from across the Pond like to say). What do my wondering eyes behold? A football game on a Thursday night! FOOTBALL!!!! Each year, Hank Williams Junior issues that simple query: "Are you ready for some football?" Amen, and again I say, Amen. So, we'd just finished dinner and watching Wheel of Fortune, as is our routine on weeknights, and Cheryl mentioned doing something in the other room. I replied, but there's a game on at 7. Her response was just two words: "Football already?!" Football already? I said. Try football finally. Now, I love watching baseball on TV more than most, but they simply don't have national coverage on many games. The only showing is Fox Saturday Baseball from 1-4ish. And I didn't even mind watching the demise, er, end of the NHL. I didn't much care for pro basketball though. There is, simply, a sports void. And we await football season in great anticipation. The greatest months of the year are September through April. September through January brings both college and NFL football, the former being my favorite of the two. February and March bring us the height of the college basketball season, culminating at the first of April with the National Championship Game. April brings us the start of MLB and all the theatrics/pomp and circumstance that go with it. But May through August my friend, I languish in the mire of minor sports. When golf dominates the airwaves, it's time to hibernate. Not that golf is bad. Quite contrary, I enjoy the skill needed to make the shots those men do. Maybe it'd be better if I had the ESPN channels. Then I could catch the Ultimate Nineball Challenge or Trick-Shot Challenge. Or I could watch the World's Strongest Man competitions from the 80s and 90s. Alas. No cable, no ESPN. But we did have the 'Lympics this year. Two weeks of international madness. Poor Paul Hamm.
So, here is my list of desire to watch sports, from greatest to the least:
1) college football 2) NFL 3) NCAA basketball 4) Baseball 5) LLWS 6) Billiards 7) Hockey 8)Tennis
9) beach volleyball 10) golf
Not comprehensive, obviously, but it gives you a good idea of what gets me going. Speaking of getting me going, one thing I do hate about college football is how diluted the bowl games are now. I say teams must have seven wins and must be two games above .500 to be eligible for a bowl. None of this 6-6 North Texas versus 6-6 Texas A&M in the goingoutofbusiness.com bowl on December 18th. I know, it generates revenue for the conferences/teams involved and it means that much more football for me. My flag football team is better than that. Speaking of which, our season starts in one week. Doubleheader. I'm excited. Now if the Horns could only find a way to beat the heck outta OU, then we'd be golden.
Until next time, keep it real.
R
So, here is my list of desire to watch sports, from greatest to the least:
1) college football 2) NFL 3) NCAA basketball 4) Baseball 5) LLWS 6) Billiards 7) Hockey 8)Tennis
9) beach volleyball 10) golf
Not comprehensive, obviously, but it gives you a good idea of what gets me going. Speaking of getting me going, one thing I do hate about college football is how diluted the bowl games are now. I say teams must have seven wins and must be two games above .500 to be eligible for a bowl. None of this 6-6 North Texas versus 6-6 Texas A&M in the goingoutofbusiness.com bowl on December 18th. I know, it generates revenue for the conferences/teams involved and it means that much more football for me. My flag football team is better than that. Speaking of which, our season starts in one week. Doubleheader. I'm excited. Now if the Horns could only find a way to beat the heck outta OU, then we'd be golden.
Until next time, keep it real.
R
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
What's going on
So, some good news first. C has just entered her second trimester and she has only thrown up twice in the last nine days, including today. Major breakthrough. You'll understand when you have a pregnant wife having to yak every day. It's painful to her, and painful to hear. C is amazed at how many different words and phrases there are to describe vomiting. A small list: yak, throw up, blow chunks, spew, ralph, pay tribute to the porcelain god, toss your cookies, hurl, etc.
Every year about this time, Hank Williams Junior gives a common query: "Are you ready for some football?!" In a word, fuggedaboudit. Not only NFL football, but my favorite sport, college football has returned. I hearken back to my college days, when I would set the alarm for 10:59AM to catch GameDay on ESPN, then display my clicker skills during the next twelve hours as I vegged in front of the tube, only taking breaks to eat and go to the bathroom. I mean, that is living my friend. If you've heard the house-sitting story before, you can skip to the next paragraph. During my senior year, I was given the opportunity to house-sit four days for a family I know during Bowl Week. They had a nice setup, with a big-screen TV w/ surround sound in the living room, and a small TV upstairs in the pool room. I mean, can it get any better? To wit, any time C would call to see what I was doing, whether 9AM or 9PM or any point between, my answer would either be "watching football" or "playing pool and watching football." Couldn't understand how I could watch TV for 12 hours a day, 4 days in a row. What can I say? I love this game. Also, our flag football season is starting up again in two weeks. We were division champs during the Spring/Summer season and I look forward to another good season. I've improved both as a pass rusher and as a wide receiver, although I still round out my cuts too much. It makes me feel good when I can get out there and run around like a wild man for 45 minutes and not be sucking wind at the end of it. And I like telling C I caught a touchdown or I sacked the QB or deflected a pass. Men need to be able to brag, especially to their wives. Gives us a sense of accomplishment. A modern version of going out and killing your dinner.
Blog you later,
R
Every year about this time, Hank Williams Junior gives a common query: "Are you ready for some football?!" In a word, fuggedaboudit. Not only NFL football, but my favorite sport, college football has returned. I hearken back to my college days, when I would set the alarm for 10:59AM to catch GameDay on ESPN, then display my clicker skills during the next twelve hours as I vegged in front of the tube, only taking breaks to eat and go to the bathroom. I mean, that is living my friend. If you've heard the house-sitting story before, you can skip to the next paragraph. During my senior year, I was given the opportunity to house-sit four days for a family I know during Bowl Week. They had a nice setup, with a big-screen TV w/ surround sound in the living room, and a small TV upstairs in the pool room. I mean, can it get any better? To wit, any time C would call to see what I was doing, whether 9AM or 9PM or any point between, my answer would either be "watching football" or "playing pool and watching football." Couldn't understand how I could watch TV for 12 hours a day, 4 days in a row. What can I say? I love this game. Also, our flag football season is starting up again in two weeks. We were division champs during the Spring/Summer season and I look forward to another good season. I've improved both as a pass rusher and as a wide receiver, although I still round out my cuts too much. It makes me feel good when I can get out there and run around like a wild man for 45 minutes and not be sucking wind at the end of it. And I like telling C I caught a touchdown or I sacked the QB or deflected a pass. Men need to be able to brag, especially to their wives. Gives us a sense of accomplishment. A modern version of going out and killing your dinner.
Blog you later,
R
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