verbungle

bye-atus

2008-07-21T00:27:00.008-04:00

After a nice long break, I'm slipping on the ol' shitproof suit and heading off to work Monday. Don't feel sorry for me. Hiatus was good and I feel satisfied. Here's the scorecard:

I walked around and looked at stuff.

On a few occasions I drank during the day.

I read books.

I visited faraway lands.

I dipped my toes in two oceans (not pictured: me).

I bowled at a professional level.

I finally signed up for facebook. Like two days later, my boss made me a facebook friend, effectively ending the facebook experience for me.

I took the kid out for some homemade old timey ice cream.

I biked like a madman.

I found out that one of my favorite bloggers had not retired. Through him I learned what RSS is and now I use it. Sort of.

I tried a bottle of the Tiger Woods Gatorade, and I believe it took my performance to the next level. It's hard to tell, though, because the day I drank it I was just sitting around the house watching TV. I did feel stronger and more focused while doing it. I think.

I got a new gadget which allowed me to take slightly better pictures of meaningless crap.

I ate lunch right next to Mickey Rivers and Oscar Gamble and failed to recognize either of them.

I found what's left of my game on the empty courts of Orange County and brought it back East in the overhead compartment.

In NYC I lugged it out onto the court against 2 or 3 separate groups of 18-22 year-old kids who played beautifully and didn't act like babies. They gave me hope for the future of the game I love. Beating them and having them shaking their heads at what the fat man can still do gave me hope that I can keep playing into my 40's.

I made plans for my first trip to Chicago since 2004. Leaving Thursday.

I drank some gross green healthy shake things and started to watch what I eat and as a result lost maybe 20-30 ounces.

I didn't grow a moustache. I'll always have the Summer of '07.

Hope you enjoyed your summer. It's over, you know.

stuck outside of Eau Claire with the Minneapolis blues again

2008-07-14T17:59:00.018-04:00

I'm back in NYC after two weeks in Southern California. Thought I would post some pictures. First some I took here in NYC before I left...

Ah, Stomp. What the fuck is the deal with Stomp? How is it still playing? Do they have one of those $60 a month loophole leases or something? I fucking HATE Stomp. It's been there for like 20 years. Who's going?

I would rather watch Riptide reruns with my eyelids taped open than sit through Stomp. Look at this part of the poster outside the theater. The dude has plungers stuck to his belly! Ha ha!

If your pal came out of the bathroom like that, you'd probably give it a genuine three to five second laugh. But it ain't professional-quality entertainment. Ah, who knows? Maybe Stomp is awesome.

Bowling is awesome, although the Bowlmor has really gone from a legendary NYC institution of sketchiness and fun to a representation of all that is wrong with our town: expensive, showy, and completely lacking in substance and functionality. And I sucked my first time out post-209.

Representing all that is right in our city is San Loco. Cheap, tasty, no-frills, and pretty much unchanged as far as my drunken old taste buds can tell.

I ordered way too much food. Sometimes that's what you do, rather than choose.

Did you know there is an amazing public track right off the FDR downtown? You can just go run there whenever you want. If I were the type of man who ran, I might do it there.

The Belgian place in our neighborhood is far from perfect, but it's a nice place to chill on a HIATUS afternoon.

Threatening skies to the West. And man is Houston street a mess.

Beach day, Stuyvesant Town-style:

Then there's a genuine California beach day. Sigh.

My freshman year roommate was a fascinating guy. A sensitive soul trapped in the body of a mountain man. Or maybe he was just a mountain man. He had no fears. He used to tell me that if he was in an airplane that crashed, he'd be fine. "I would do whatever it took to get out alive. I would just be determined to survive and I'd make it." I almost believed him, because he was the toughest bastard I ever met. Beating him in a fight would mean killing him and would probably take three men.

Let's call him Oly.

He was always getting into trouble, sometimes his fault, sometimes just terrible luck. He had a girlfriend in Minneapolis for awhile and he used to hitchhike there from Madison to go see her. One time, just a few miles into the journey, he found a ride with a middle-aged dude who said he was going all the way to Minneapolis. Great luck! It was cold as hell and the less rides it took to get there, the better.

Not a word was said between them for the first 30 or 40 miles. Finally, the middle aged guy cleared his throat and spoke.

"Do me a favor, reach underneath your seat," he said.

Oly reached down and found an unmarked, nearly full bottle of who knows what.

"Have some," said the driver.

"No, that's OK," Oly said. "I'm good."

"Ah, a teetotaler," said the driver. "Well pass it over here then."

Oly passed him the bottle, and the guy took a healthy tug.

"You don't look like a teetotaler," said the driver. "Come on, have a sip."

Not knowing what else to do, and seeing as how the driver had already taken a sip and was still alive, Oly grabbed the bottle and took a nice deep gulp. It burned, but in a familiar way.

"Good, isn't it?" the driver said, taking the bottle back and helping himself to another huge snort. "I knew you wasn't a teetotaler."

This went on for another hour or so, the two of them passing the bottle back and forth, and finally there was some conversation. Just small talk, where you from, are you a Packers fan, etc. Just bullshitting. Oly noticed that the guy was beginning to gently swerve out of his lane every few minutes, and the car had dipped down to about 50 mph on the left lane of the interstate. Oly was getting drunk, but his survival instinct had kicked in and he began to watch the driver carefully to make sure he didn't lose control of the car. Several times it almost happened. Oly considered grabbing the wheel, or asking him to pull over, but each time he was about to, the guy would straighten up in his seat, shake out the cobwebs and right the ship. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger.

As the bottle became nearly empty, the small talk trailed off to silence again. After a few awkward miles, the driver suddenly asked, "Have you ever sucked a man's dick?"

"Uh...no," Oly said.

"Well, I'll tell you what," said the driver. "There's an exit about two miles up the road. I'm gonna take that exit, then I'm gonna pull over, and then you're gonna find out what it's like to suck a man's dick."

Without hesitation, Oly pulled a knife out of his sock and held it up to the guy's face.

"No...you're gonna pull over right here and let me out," Oly said. "Right now."

"Easy, easy! I was just talking," said the driver, pulling over immediately. Oly held the knife up to the guy's face the entire time, then grabbed his backpack and climbed out of the car. The guy sped off.

It was getting dark. Oly was still about ten miles Southwest of Eau Claire. He put his knife back in his sock and began to walk down I-94. He was still too freaked out to put his thumb back up, so he just kept walking in the cold. He walked for nearly four miles before he heard a siren behind him. It was a state trooper, a woman, and she told him not to move. She had her gun drawn already.

"Do you have any concealed weapons?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I have a knife."

He pulled it out and offered it to her, handle first.

"You know that's against the law," she said, taking the knife and then kicking it aside. "And you shouldn't be out here."

He told her the story. She told him to go pick up the knife and put it back in his sock. He scrambled over to get it.

"Get in," she said. He climbed into the passenger seat of her cruiser. She drove him all the way to Minneapolis, neither of them saying a word.

This is a palm tree:
Palm trees are pretty awesome.

While we were in Cali, we went to this interesting offshoot of the SD Zoo.

I have mixed feelings about zoos, although this one was pretty cool because it was spread out and there seemed to be more attention paid to recreating the natural habitats of the animals, etc. It was vast.

Given the choice between living in a mock habitat sans predators or going home to the real deal, I gotta think these guys would stay in San Diego. I know I would.

I'm sure they've all lost their natural hunting instinct and gone soft but they're probably cool with that. This guy looks like he'd still fuck me up in an instant.

We went by the beach. People were surfing.

I'll never be as cool as the uncoolest surfer.

Even the Lego surfers are cooler than me.

There is a scene in Knocked Up where the Paul Rudd character grits his teeth and says with a forced smile, "We're going to Legoland." When you go to Legoland, you are officially renouncing your selfish youth and acknowledging that you now exist mostly to make your kids happy. It's a strange feeling, but it's also sort of comforting. And I gotta say, the Lego people are really good at making shit out of Legos.

Outside the bathroom there was this odd Lego cartoon:

I understand the first panel: "Dad, get me some water."

And I understand the second panel: Dad steps on kid's Lego and shrieks in pain, spilling the water in the process.

But the payoff? Hmm. 25 GP's to the person who comes up with the best caption for this:

something awesome i once did

2008-07-02T18:05:00.010-04:00

Out in California staring out the window (pics to come), and I just remembered this.

One time during my senior year in high school, I went to a party at my friend's house. Everybody was getting all drunk and goofy and whatnot, the usual crap. But there was one kid who had really gone around the bend. This person stumbled into the bathroom, closed the door and locked it. Nobody could get in, and the person wasn't responding to knocks, shouts, etc. Everybody, especially the chicks, started getting really worried.

Unfortunately, I can't remember if the locked-in person was a guy or a girl, and if the problem was merely drunkenfuckedupedness, or she-or-he-doesn't-love-me-based depression, or just the need to throw up in private. Who really cares? The facts are: somebody was in locked in that bathroom and nobody could get 'em out.

Meanwhile in a dark corner of the party, I was doing my thing. My thing: carrying on about some stupid horseshit and feeling like Superman. Some girl tapped me on the shoulder and was all, "X is all locked up in the bathroom and we don't know what to do. Should we call 911?"

"Hmmm," I said. "Do you have a hairpin? Like, a bobby pin?"

Mind you, I had no idea what a bobby pin was until a moment later, when the girl produced one from her purse.

"Will this work?" she asked.

"It should," I said, having no idea what I was talking about.

I marched over to the bathroom door, bent the bobby pin open and shoved one end inside a hole that was conveniently located on the end of the doorknob. Then I started jimmying it gently. Within seconds, like maybe 4 seconds, the lock popped open. A group of worried kids streamed into the bathroom, where the locked-in thing lay on the floor in some acute form of misery I no longer can identify. They helped it to its pathetic feet and the crisis was over.

"Shit, Hans, you're like MacGyver," some genius shouted. Let the record show that this was the first time in the history of amateur comedy that someone performing an act of everyday handiness was compared to the always-resourceful hero of the hit show that bore his name. I guess I share the blame for the 8 billion times this joke has been made since.

So there you have it. Pretty awesome, yeah? Have you ever done something awesome like that? Eight GP's for every awesome thing you can name, max 40 total.

Don't like that? How about this:

Yeah. Awesome.

P.S. Thanks for all the additions to the People Who I Suspect Didn't Realize Their Awesomeness Had A Shelf Life Until It Was Too Late List. They were very strong as a whole. A couple I didn't completely agree with but overall very good work. I am gonna dole out 5 GP's per answer but I'm gonna cap it at 25 GP's per person. Don't like it? Too bad. Your awesomeness may be coming to an end, kid.

HEY KNICK FANS –TELL ME HOW GALLINARI’S ASS TASTES!

2008-06-28T17:27:00.005-04:00

..answer: like over-cooked pasta with vomit ragu.

DLEE DRAFT GRADES

Atlanta Hawks

Grade: lazy

Round 1: None
Round 2: None

Analysis: No picks? I wonder what their war room looks like. Do they just hang out, chug brews, and play Wii? I’m curious..

Boston Celtics

Grade: B

Round 1: J. R. Giddens (30)
Round 2: Bill Walker (47), Semih Erden (60)

Analysis: Giddens looks pretty talented but they made his personality seem like the second coming of Denzel in Training Day. I predict a bitch-slap moment with Paul Piece in the future that culminates in a full-on Bloods vs Crips shootout ten yards from the Fleet Center.
Side note: Bill Walker is a good find this late assuming his legs hold up ..which I highly doubt.

Charlotte Bobcats

Grade: F

Round 1: D.J. Augustin (9), Alexis Ajinca (20)
Round 2: Kyle Weaver (38)

Analysis: Are you shitting me? Wow. MCJ has to be the worst judge of NBA personnel in history. How can someone so good on the basketball court be so clueless off it. Oh wait, Elgin Baylor, Magic, and Bill Russell were insanely incompetent too. Guess Shaq’s future as a GM is gonna be a real shit-storm.
Augustin is a worse version of Jameer Nelson and to take him here over Bayless when you already have Felton is bananas. Then taking a lanky big guy who averaged FOUR POINTS in --FRANCE?
I’m gonna make a crazy call here ..Bobcats in lottery next year.

Chicago Bulls

Grade: A

Round 1: Derrick Rose (1)
Round 2: Omer Asik (36), Sonny Weems (39)

Analysis: Lucky motherfuckers. First MCJ, then the Curry trade, then Rose. As CP3 proved, one amazing point guard who plays D and has a team-first attitude can turn an entire franchise around. The fact they can trade now Hienrick for front-line help makes them that much sicker. All they need now is some dipshit fools to take the Larry Hughes contract off their blood-stained hands. *cough* ..KNICKS..*cough*.
Side note: I love watching the Bulls war room where they pretend to be nervous when they knew they were taking Rose a month ago. Perhaps they were scared Rose’d get assassinated by Isaiah on the way to the podium.

Cleveland Cavaliers

Grade: C+

Round 1: J. J. Hickson (19)
Round 2: None

Analysis: Call me crazy, I don’t think JJ Hickson is gonna motivate LaBron to stay in Cleveland. Highlights made him look like a dark Tyler Hansborough ..if that’s possible.
JZ is already writing a HOT 97 single in prep for BronBron’s move to Brooklyn.

Dallas Mavericks

Grade: D

Round 1: None
Round 2: Shan Foster (51)

Analysis:. It is soooooo over in Dallas. They’re gonna disappear faster than the Steam-punk fashion trend. What’s that? You don’t know what Steam-punk is? Don’t worry, it’s already over ..just like Dallas dreams of the finals after the Kidd trade.
They need to trade Dirk now before it becomes too late. If they don’t act soon they’re gonna do some dumb Gasol-like panic trade when Dirk starts phoning it in. Like the Gasol trade to the Kidd trade, or the Garnett trade to the Shaq trade ..this proves how the right/wrong move when on the cusp can either put you over the top or absolutely destroy your franchise.

Denver Nuggets

Grade: Lame

Round 1: None
Round 2: None

Well done Denver. Miss the play-offs next year and then completely implode. So much for the idiotic notion of 2 superstar scorers on the same squad being an unquestionable path to success.
Note to George “Melonhead” Karl: defense wins championships ..try it one day.

Detroit Pistons

Grade: whatever
Round 1: None

Round 2: Walter Sharpe (32), Trent Plaisted (46), Deron Washington (59)

Analysis: I don’t know any of these dudes. I doubt you’ll ever know them either.

Golden State Warriors

Grade: C+

Round 1: Anthony Randolph (14)
Round 2: Richard Hendrix (49)

Analysis: Randolph is so skinny that if he gained 20 pounds he’d be considered a human bamboo pole. Serious, this guy may be the first bulimic basketball player in the history of the NBA. 6’10” and 197 lbs?? To put this in MMA perspective (*as I often like to do) he’d have to GAIN 8 pounds to fight the 6 foot Chuck Liddell as a LIGHT-heavyweight. (At least Randolph would have a hell of a reach, no?)
Speaking of reaches, I think this guy is a reach at 14 for GS. They just took last years clone of this dude last year in Brandon Wright.
Nelson better get these motherfuckers to Dinky Doughnuts ..fast.

Houston Rockets

Grade: B+

Round 1: Donte Greene (28)
Round 2: Joey Dorsey (33), Maarty Leunen (54)

Analysis: Nice job for picking so late. This guy Green is more soft in game and brains than a retarded nerd with erectile dysfunction in a Nolita singles bar. Still, he does have “upside” at the 28 spot.

As for Dorsey, I’m one of his few fans. He’s a total Larry Smith, Rodman, Charles Oakley throwback. He’s small but (when motivated) he can rebound and defend like a demon from the gates of hell. At worst, he’s the second coming of Reggie Evans. At best, he’s a mini-Ben Wallace.

Still, Houston already has Chuck Hayes so I guess it’s kind of redundant.

Indiana Pacers

Grade: A

Round 1: Brandon Rush (13), Roy Hibbert (17)

Big night for Larry legend (*legendarily boring interview as well ..did you see that shit? If not, it’s probably cause you fell asleep). Anyway, getting a broken down O’Neal and 18 million per off the books while picking up TJ Ford and Hibbert in exchange is pure genius. You get undervalued size in Hibbert (waaaay undervalued) and pick up a winner in TJ (*wish the Knicks got him) while also creating cap space for the future.
Then they lucked out with Bayless but were so over stocked at PG they traded him for Rush & Jack (both solid/good attitude guys ..but mediocre). All they gotta do now is dump Tinsley and they’re set. I think you’ll see surprising improvement in this squad next year and then no doubt in summer 2009.
A+ for the TJ/Hibbert trade
B- for not getting better value for Bayless

Los Angeles Clippers

Grade: A-

Round 1: Eric Gordon (7)
Round 2: DeAndre Jordan (35), Mike Taylor (55)

Analysis: I’m also a rare full-on Gordon fan. Everyone jumped off his bandwagon when he struggled during the second half when he injured his hand and Indiana went down in flames. The guy has mad range on his J and barrels over defenders like a bowling ball on way to the hoop. If Ben Gordan can make it at 6’3” there’s no reason to think Eric can’t as well. At worst, he’s the second coming of JR Smith. At best, he could be the second coming of Mitch Richmond.
As for DeAndre, hilarious that scouts used to project this guy at NUMBER THREE in the draft. Still, at 35 this is a no-lose pick. If he pans out the Clippers look like geniuses. If not, who cares..

Los Angeles Lakers

Grade: assy

Round 1: None
Round 2: Joe Crawford (58)

Analysis: Joey Crawford’s in the draft? I woulda taken Dick Bavetta..

Memphis Grizzlies

Grade: Hmmm.

Round 1: O.J. Mayo (3), Darrell Arthur (27)
Round 2: None

Analysis: Mike Miller/Love/Cardinal for Mayo/Jaric’s horrid contract. Looks like a great move for McHale initially. Still, if the Grizz parley Mayo into Beasly (as I expect them to) it could be an outstanding move (*assuming they don’t include Conely in the Miami deal). That said, I think Mayo is going to be a good pro but I don’t see him as anything too amazing ..he’ll be Billups at best (*and probably take just as long to fulfill his full potential).
Mayo also wins the Greg Oden award for oldest face in the draft.
As for Arthur (*AKA: this year’s green-room roadkill), I was never a big fan of this guy but at 27 he’s a steal. I was wrong about David West --maybe Arthur can fit that bill as well..

Miami Heat

Grade: Hmmm.

Round 1: Michael Beasley (2)
Round 2: Mario Chalmers (34), Darnell Jackson (52)

Analysis: Oh Beasly. Your DUI is waiting…as is your paternity suit..as is your lawsuit from the guy you punched at Scores…as is your fine for walking out of practice while dumping over the Gatorade tank.. as is your suspension for bitching to the press that your coach is a douchebag...as is..
Get the picture?
I also picture him dropping 20p 10r in his sleep. Trouble is, Z-bo can do the same thing and look where he’s at..
Chalmers is a nice find at 34. They were talking about him at 12 which was crazy but to get him in the second is mighty sweet. Unlike Beasly, he seems like the kind of guy who’ll be a nice back-up PG for the next 10 years and then winds up even better as a coach. His acquisition could effect the pending Memphis trade.

Milwaukee Bucks

Grade: B

Round 1: Joe Alexander (8)
Round 2: Luc Richard Mbah a Moute (37)

Analysis: The Jefferson trade was sweet but what the hell do they do with Alexander now? He’s two inches short of a Gugliotta. That’s a very important 2 inches.
Moute looks like a nice role player. Didn’t know he’s an African prince. That said, doesn’t he have something more important to do with his time than sit and watch Redd drain 3’s?

Minnesota Timberwolves

Grade: B

Round 1: Kevin Love (5)
Round 2: Nikola Pekovic (31)

Analysis: I think the Mayo trade works pretty well for Minn ..if they were in the EAST. Frankly, I just think getting Miller and Love improves the Wolves just enough to make them mediocre in the west. It’s a possible talent upgrade but:
A) Love COULD be a total bust (..although I’m hoping not).
B) Love and Jefferson are both short/stocky post-up guys.
At least, they got rid of Jaric’s contract, no?
Side note: Pekovic looks pretty good ..too bad he’s on lockdown for 2 years.

New Jersey Nets

Grade: B

Round 1: Brook Lopez (10), Ryan Anderson (21)
Round 2: Chris Douglas-Roberts (39)

Analysis: Mixed.
1) Brook Lopez at 10 is a safe pick considering Kristic is probably toast. Still, the buzz is he doesn’t like to play basketball and here’s what was overheard as they miced him during the draft: “~this is BOR-ring!!” “Who’s the coach of the Nets? Frank? Who’s that?” “Can we switch the TV monitor to the Euro Cup??” (alright, I made up the last one..) Anyway, I wouldn’t expect much more than 13p 7r outta this guy down the road.
2) Ryan Anderson: they compare him to a poor white-man’s Yi. Unless you’re trying to corner the market on future Brad Lohaus/Brad Sellers wannabes I don’t see the point.
3) CDR: I completely don’t understand how he goes so late. Where’s the flaw major in his game?? Handle ..check. Shot ..check. Defense ..check. Creativity ..check. Winning experience ..check. Length ..check. Seriously, he might be better than Gallinari. Totally reminds me of a 6’6” Cutino Mobley.
4) As for Yi/Jefferson: If you get LaBron in 2010 ..okay. Otherwise, LAAAAME.

New Orleans Hornets

Grade: Blah

Round 1: None
Round 2: None

Analysis: The Hornets sold the No. 27 pick to the Blazers for $3 million. Unless they were gonna take CDR (which they should have) I’d say it’s a good move.

New York Knicks

Grade: VOMMIT

Round 1: Danilo Gallinari (6)
Round 2: Got this e-mail from Hans:

dude,

i know nothing about this guinea the knicks just drafted...but his highlight reel was hugely depressing. usually the international highlight reels are full of amazing moves, dunks, etc.

this guy looks slow and unexplosive. and he's 6'8". is he a SF?

tell me he's awesome. please.
hans

MY REPLY:
unbelievable they passed on Gordon & Bayless for this dude. i can almost guarantee both average double digits rookie year. even the schmucks who drafted him played down his skills saying shit like, "should turn into a solid player" "pretty good at a lot of stuff" "doesn't need to start". "has defensive issues he needs to work on"

I wanted Avery Johnson as coach. he NEVER woulda taken this al dente piece of shit. looks like the Knick philosophy hasn't changed. D is not a pre-requisite to play on the team. ironic you e-mailed me about Gallinari. i made a comparison of his game to Polsky while we watched the draft...some guy named Hans Bungle.

translation: Gallinari might do well at Children's Aid but may have major problems in the NBA.

i could be wrong but ...groan.

dlee

Orlando Magic

Grade: B-

Round 1: Courtney Lee (22)
Round 2: None

Analysis: Solid not great …totally shoulda gone for CDR.

Philadelphia 76ers

Grade: A-

Round 1: Marreese Speights (16)
Round 2: None

Analysis: Gotta say, this guy looks like he could be a major steal. Good size, athleticism, young, good stroke, fluid motion. The knock was on his conditioning. I’d say it’s worth risking a 16 pick on lottery talent at that spot.

Phoenix Suns

Grade: B+

Round 1: Robin Lopez (15)
Round 2: Malik Hairston (48)

Analysis: Robin Lopez seems way cooler than his brother. I get a feeling him and Nash are gonna be smoking pot and riding around the Village on skateboards a lot. Who wouldn’t want to hang with a 7ft Sideshow Bob? Can’t wait to see him and Varejao guarding each other. Play by play guys will be spitting bad jokes like watermelon seeds at a county fair..
Hope Robin doesn’t wind up tasting Shaq’s ass.

Portland Trail Blazers

Grade: A

Round 1: Jerryd Bayless (11), Nicolas Batum (25)
Round 2: None

Analysis: I’ve recently pondered moving to Portland and this confirms how cool it would be in terms of hoops. Assuming Oden healthy, they are SOOOOO loaded for the next 5 years. Add last years well-reviewed import Rudy Fernandez to the mix and these guys are sitting in the catbird seat of the future. Oden, Roy, Aldridge, Bayless, Fernandez, Allen’s deep pockets, Pritchard as GM, McMiilian as coach = future success.
Not only that, they got Frye, Outlaw, Batum, and Webster to use as trade bait.
Sick.

Sacramento Kings

Grade: C

Round 1: Jason Thompson (12)
Round 2: Sean Singletary (42), Patrick Ewing Jr. (43)

Analysis: Nice kid. Passable game. Kinda early in the draft for another Channing Frye.

San Antonio Spurs

Grade: ?

Round 1: George Hill (26)
Round 2: Goran Dragic (42), James Gist (57)

Analysis: No idea.

Seattle SuperSonics

Grade: C+

Round 1: Russell Westbrook (4), Serge Ibaka (24), D.J. White (29)
Round 2: DeVon Hardin (50), Sasha Kaun (56)

Analysis: Westbrook claims he's a point guard. Hey, i can also claim to be a point guard when i'm on the court. Still, any asshole who's ever seen me handle the rock (like a drunken sailor handling a sloppy French whore) knows if I'm at the helm you better look at the sidelines for someone better to guide your ship. Don't get me wrong, he's a phenom athlete who plays great D and finishes. Thing is, he can't really shoot and has no mid-range game. kinda like ...Fred Jones or Antonio Daniels.
This is a major reach.
DJ White = Lonnie Baxter
Ibaka = whatever
Kaun = actual decent back-up C with Jeff Forster potential ..still, he already signed a contract in Russia so..

Toronto Raptors

Grade: ?&(^%!

Round 1: None
Round 2: Nathan Jawai (41)

Analysis: I think the O’Neal trade is eerily similar to the dreaded Kidd trade. Giving up a young stud for a high-priced vet on the downturn?
Time will tell..

Utah Jazz

Grade: A-

Round 1: Kosta Koufos (23)
Round 2: Ante Tomic (44), Tadija Dragicevic (53)

Analysis: Koufos was supposed to be top 10 next year. I’ve seen this guy. He’s pretty damn good for a legit 7 footer. Give him a year or two and this could be a major steal.

Washington Wizards

Grade: D-

Round 1: JaVale McGee (18)
Round 2: None

Analysis: El Busto.
Never EVER draft a 7 foot guy who averages 7 rebounds in a shit conference.
Especially, if the have a ridiculous name like JaVale McGee.
Smell ya later..
DLEE

it ain't gonna last

2008-06-23T00:53:00.019-04:00

"Things were really rolling. Everyone was saying we were headed for the top. For a while we were the coolest band in America. We thought, 'We're going to be rich in a couple of years', and then two years later the crowds are thinning out and you suddenly realize that that was your heyday."

-Paul Westerberg

Do you think your heyday's passed already? Would you recognize it as it flew by you?

I'm not talking about a peak moment, such as catching a tennis ball you threw out of a car window, or finding out that the one person you really like likes you back, or riding your bike downhill with blood gushing from a fresh wound.

No, although without a doubt those things are awesome. They are the reason that we keep living: because something awesome could happen at any moment. Their complete randomness fills each crappy day with a shred of possibility and makes life a tiny bit more tolerable. But what I am talking about here is the period when your whole life -- personal, professional, physical, etc. -- just comes together as beautifully as it ever will. A time of extended spectacularity, or, in an otherwise shitty life, a time of relative unshittiness.

Unfortunately, I think it's almost impossible to recognize. Success bloats our self-opinion. It makes us assume larger success lies just ahead. It's how Ed McMahon and Latrell Sprewell can end up broke. Two hookers? Let's make it three. There's more money on the way. I'm fucking great and getting greater.

Nobody ever stops to think, damn I've got it good, and it might never get this good again.*

I promise to be on the lookout if you will too. Although I suspect I'm too late already.

With that in mind, I present this partial list.

People Who I Suspect Didn't Realize Their Awesomeness Had A Shelf Life Until It Was Too Late:

1. Joe Charboneau
2. Mike Reno
3. Judd Nelson
4. That hot girl or dude in high school
5. You
6. Charles Manson
7. James Frey
8. Anne Heche
9. Ken Wahl
10. Barbaro

Five GP's for each additional good one you come up with
* For ten GP's, tell me what movie contains the line I am paraphrasing here.

i got a nikon camera

2008-06-21T02:09:00.005-04:00

So I got my new digital camera: it's a Nikon D40. It's a couple of years old but I hear good things about it and the price was right. I could have probably got a more souped-up model without totally breaking the bank, but the truth is I know zero about photography so this will be a good intro for me. I am still trying to get that magic DSLR look, but here are some shots I took with the new camera, definitely better than the old one. As always, you can click to enlarge.

Had a couple of daytime beers on Thursday with crsmal. You should have been there, we missed you. Not really.

Here he is. He is about to tell me to go fuck myself.

The place filled up at lunchtime but by 2:30 it was 95% cleared out and the bartender could safely return to the racing form.

On the way home I snapped some shots. This dude is roughly one third as suave as he thinks he is. He's actually on the phone asking his mom to send him money.

Some intense discussion outside the palm reader on Horatio street. I should have majored in palm reading. There will always be palms.

I caught this gentleman from across a park with my zoom lens. He's definitely going for the Eddie Felson, Color of Money-era look. And it's working for him.

The courts on Horatio are kinda over with, just a couple of people playing one on one. I have some great memories of playing there over the years. One that stands out was the day this white banker dude who wasn't even very good insisted on yelling "boo-ya" every time he shot.

This guy is famous. He had just sold about five of these things when I took the shot.

These two were having a great animated discussion on East 15th street. I am not sure if they are a couple, but I hope they are.

The new camera will definitely help with shots of the kid:

When I got home I stopped for a quick pee at this crappy bar outside Stuyvesant town. It was pretty full, mostly an OTB kinda crowd. For some reason, "Left of the Dial" was playing on the jukebox.
I finished Cruddy. It eventually became overwhelmingly dark and violent, to the point where I found it a bit exhausting. Graphic, gross, fucked up, weird, depressing, but still occasionally funny and very poignant. I guess I still kind of love it. I give it an 8.5 out of 10. Don't want to recommend it to anyone who is offended by blood, guts, etc. but the main character will definitely break your heart. Whoever asks for it, it's yours.

it must be tuesday

2008-06-18T02:12:00.005-04:00

I woke up this morning and decided to fulfill my Central Park Reading Day plan. Around noon, I began riding up the East Side on my bike. My apologies for the quality of these photos -- they were taken by a) my iPhone or b) my old digital camera, which is all kinds of fucked up, as you will see. I am getting a new camera soon. Regardless, you can click on these photos to make 'em bigger.

The view from the East Side bike path:

The East Side bike path sucks, by the way. It ends around 30th street, so I had to ride up pothole-covered First Avenue. But before I got off the path I saw this piece of sensible graffiti:

I agree with that, and I also agree with a not-too-crowded sheep meadow, a 78 degree day and not a care in the world. Man this HIATUS is good.

I was already deeply, deeply happy, and then I remembered that I didn't have a beer. Nobody came around selling it, so I hopped on the bike and made a deli run. I returned with a couple of cold pals. The only company I would need.

Everybody was feeling right. Frisbees flying, girls pulling their boyfriends' pants off, the whole deal.
Below: my formula for satisfaction. It was a great New York day and I didn't need to add much to it. This book Cruddy, by the way, is incredible. I am only about 80 pages in but I feel a deep connection with it.
I decided to head home down the West Side, and stopped for a Gatorade in a depressing deli on Amsterdam. This guy looked like he could use a Gatorade, too. Maybe Fierce Melon flavor.

The West Side bike path is so much nicer it ain't even funny. I rode all the way around the tip of Manhattan and then back up the East Side. When I ride by myself I play a little asshole game where I sort of pretend to get pissed when other cyclists pass me on the bike path. I don't ride very fast, until I get passed. Then I take it as a mini challenge. I wait until the moment is right, when it doesn't seem to be intentional, and then I retake the lead. When I stopped to take a picture of this duck some completely unathletic looking hausfrau in blue jeans passed me. I made it my mission to pass her. But somehow she just kept pulling further away, and her legs were barely moving. She must have been in some supersonic cosmically aligned gear. I continued following her down the path and shifted to a higher gear. Finally, after like 60 blocks, I passed her. Man I bet she learned a thing or two. She was probably genuinely concerned that I was following her with malicious intent, and decided to just let me pass. Whatever, I'll take the win, baby!

Look at these working stiffs! Ha ha ha! Hey guys, don't forget to set the alarm tonight!

I bet Deion knows what building this is. There was a guy in an Orioles hat fishing off the path right around here but he didn't want me to take his pic (I asked). I did ask if he was a fan and he said no.

It was a great day. If I die in my sleep tonight, I went out on a high note. I may do it again tomorrow, if the soreness in my verbungle subsides. And on Thursday crsmal is coming in to the city for a samwich and a beer. You're invited. No, not you. You!

review: indiana jones and the castle of greyskull or whatever

2008-06-14T01:42:00.008-04:00

You know a movie is bad when you go in with lowered expectations and it still sucks.

Or when you decide you really want to like it and you are not going to judge it with a critical eye, you're just there to have fun and eat popcorn. And it still sucks.

Based on these two simple tests and I'm sure a number of others, the latest Indiana Jones movie sucks.

Within the first five minutes, you sense that this is not going to go well. There is an odd gopher gag right out of the gate that seems to be a nod to Caddyshack. It is an undeniable cue that you are in for corny Spielberg, not good Spielberg. Then you are hit with what seem to be 2 visual references to Close Encounters. (Which might have been OK if it didn't come on the heels of the gopher joke.) Then you see Harrison Ford and before you can even begin to think hey there's Indiana Jones this is gonna be cool, you hear some truly atrocious dialogue that seems to have been tacked on in a VO booth by someone trying and failing to sound like Harrison Ford. You are shocked by the amateurish weirdness of the opening scene.

Plus it's grumpy middle aged Harrison Ford, the one without the twinkle in his eye.

Then you meet Cate Blanchett, looking like a reject from the Power Rangers and talking like Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle. At this point you are like fuck it, I surrender to the overwhelming badness of this movie, let's have fun.

And occasionally you do. There are some gross ants. There are a couple cool stunts and shots. There is a ridiculous but mildly amusing snake gag. But there is so much crappy CGI that you lose any sense of real danger for the characters. And without danger there is no excitement. Without excitement in an Indiana Jones movie you are in trouble.

Think about the action and fights and stunts from Raiders of the Lost Ark -- the scene under the truck. The bridge. The giant boulder. The dude getting nailed by the airplane propeller. As over the top as it was, it felt real. But this one seems so fabricated I half expected to find Wile E. Coyote waiting around the next corner with his Acme TNT.

I can't get over how these supertalented "action" directors can sign off on these awful special effects that completely take you out of the action. There is an elaborate car chase through the jungle in this movie that could have been great if it weren't for the distractingly obvious special effects. For me, once I see something in a live action movie that clearly was created on a computer, I check out of that scene. Why doesn't Spielberg hold this movie up against Raiders and say, nope, this isn't good enough? Let's go back and shoot it right.

There are plenty of other shitty things in the movie. Shia Labeouf is fairly shitty. The script is really shitty, to the point where I had to turn away from the screen during the banter between Ford and poor Karen Allen, who was brought back from the Hollywood scrap heap for this one and may decide in the end it wasn't worth it. There are more automatic weapons being fired and missing the good guys from 20 feet away than seemed necessary. There is a stupid plot involving super advanced space creatures from another dimension and it never takes Indiana Jones more than two seconds to figure out the next incredibly complex piece of the puzzle. I rolled my eyes about 72 times during the movie and believe me I was trying to just enjoy it.

Plus, the popcorn was way too salty.

stfu vol. LVII

2008-06-13T12:24:00.006-04:00

Dear Pals,

Perhaps chastened by the guilt from my unedited, stream-of-consciousness asshologue the last time I went out drinking, I have successfully managed to bite my tongue at least twice in the last week when somebody said or did something that I knew in my heart needed to be addressed with sarcasm/spite/insults, etc.

Part of me is still itching to say something, but I think the restraint makes me a better man.

Oh, and this HIATUS has been incredible. Much better than last year. Obviously not having the constant anxiety about my father's health is part of it, but I am also just treasuring every second more than I did the first time. I keep reminding myself that this is why I worked so hard all year, so I can get my loaf on in the summertime. There has been bowling, daytime drinking, bike riding, basketball playing, NBA Finals watching, movie going, baby tickling, and we're just a week in. Still ahead: reading day in Central Park (maybe Monday) where I lay in sheep meadow with my new book ("Cruddy" by Lynda Barry) and slurp on a contraband Bud purchased from one of the hobo/entrepreneurs who stroll through the park with coolers full of refreshing beverages and still have the decency to refrain from overcharging too badly. Also: I am going to buy a DSLR soon. Suggestions welcome.

Yours in leisure,

Hans

my everest

2008-06-11T03:10:00.015-04:00

So HIATUS has been pretty productive so far. On Tuesday I was able to check something off my list of athletic triumphs. Read it and weep, kids. My first 200 game. What strikes me (no pun intended) is how hard I had to work. I mean, after the first frame I had no open frames at all and I still needed to pick up a difficult spare in the 10th to break 200.

Anyway, check it off the list. Next up: shattering a backboard (as Michael Jordan does in this rarely seen clip from a 1986 Italian exhibition game):

The only thing that could make that better is if they scored the clip with music from "Crocodile Dundee." Wait...they did. Shit.

Hopefully the heat will break on Wednesday and we can all walk around outside for more than ten minutes without getting clammy and stinky. It's been in the mid-90s for at least three days now. Wednesday afternoon -- watching soccer at Tom & Jerry's with Pete B.

another embarrassment in a lifetime full of 'em

2008-06-09T01:11:00.003-04:00

It's been a rough stretch for me. I feel like I've been buried alive for the last 6 months but the tip of my nose is finally busting through the dirt and breathing real air again.

I think it might be HIATUS time. I'm afraid to say it out loud (SHYATUS?) because I wasn't sure I was even getting a HIATUS but now I seem to be on it for at least a couple of weeks and man is that a just-brushed feeling I could get used to. I haven't given it nearly as much thought as I did last year, and maybe that's good. I'll just see what happens. Who's up for a daytime drink this week?

I am about to sign a three year contract at my job. Holy hell am I worried. I hope it gets easier. The bright side is that I negotiated a much better deal for myself so at least I am OK with my compensation level.

On Friday I went bowling with a bunch of people from my old job and dear friends I overdid it again on the drinking. I made a raging ass of myself. I told people truths they should never have heard. I guzzled down what they put in front of me and asked for more. I laughed and slapped backs and pretended I knew all the answers. Not just to my problems, but to his and hers and yours. If you didn't have a problem I'd assign you one and solve it within minutes. For a good two hours, I felt like the goddamn King. And it's a safe bet that if I feel like the King at some point in the night, I will rise in the morning with the shame of a thousand sinners weighing on my soul.

That's what happened. A rough morning and a day full of resurfacing snippets of stupidity from the night before. I still haven't put it all the way behind me.

After more than 20 years together, I am not even one step closer to figuring out the mysteries of booze. My relationship with alcohol is similar to Bruce Banner's with stress -- during sober times I am mild mannered, cautious, insecure, always worried about saying the wrong thing. The minute the cold beer hits my lips I am alive with confidence, unstoppable, surging, arrogant, obnoxious, not nearly as fun or clever as I think I am but determined to prove otherwise. And I am usually shirtless and wearing purple pants. Stay away from me.

I wonder if my drunken asshole personality is a closer reflection of who I am than my sober scared schoolboy personality. I wonder if the real me lies somewhere in the midlle. I wonder if the reason I am so aggressive when I am drunk is that I have so much repressed rage swelling up inside me from biting my tongue all the time. Mostly I just wonder if I'll ever learn.

Hey, maybe I will try to eat better and exercise during my break...I could stand to lose about 25 pounds. LOSEWEIGHTUS.

they had one thing in common, they were rich old men

2008-06-02T00:37:00.011-04:00

So I accidentally saw The Eagles on Saturday night. I'm still not sure exactly how it happened. If you had asked me when I woke up Saturday morning where I'd be Saturday night, "Checking out the Eagles at the Garden" would have been low on the list, somewhere around "Winning a fishing tournament." I didn't even know there still was, is, an Eagles.

But there I was, $7.75 beer and vegetarianism-busting hot dog in hand. And there they were, resplendent in matching black suits. Lean, not completely bald. Ready to rock. Ready to soar.

How did I get there? It was a work thing. A freebie. The bosses invited me on Saturday afternoon. What do you say? The weirdest part is that I am in the middle of a painful attempt to renegotiate my deal at work so I would expect things to be tense and awkward but instead the two main bosses invite me to see The Eagles. So there's little Hans, at MSG, Saturday night, surrounded by bosses, feeling the Frey, soaking in the Schmit, wallowing in the Walsh, and eventually being healed by Henley.

What do you think about The Eagles? I have always had a sort of soft spot for them, as their Greatest Hits filled out one side of a Maxell XL-II 90 that I took with me to college along with my 7 Bruce Springsteen tapes. I played it a lot, somehow I missed the point that by the time you got to college it was way too late to be listening to The Eagles. But I didn't know and therefore I didn't care. They made me happy.

But I acknowledge they are pretty lame at the same time. I have a lot of friends who hate them. Like, go-die-a-slow-death-in-a-ditch hate. The Eagles, I will admit, are soft and wimpy and pretty bland and I guess they didn't really do much for the world except crank out a ton of unremarkable hits that provided the gentle soundtrack for white teenagers humping in basements throughout the 70's and 80's. Which, come to think of it, is way more than you ever did or will do. Still, it's easy to hold them up as an example of all that is wrong with 70's rock music, with the state of California, and with guys named Glenn.

But I dunno. I kinda like 'em anyway. The show was pretty darn good. I think one of the advantages of being generic and average in your prime is that it's easier to maintain generic and average as you approach 60 years old than it is to maintain snot-nosed or groundbreaking or rebellious or unpredictable. Like I doubt this show last night was more than 15% worse than seeing them at their peak in 1976 or whatever. Although come to think of it I'm sure when they were all coked up and afroed there were some goofy moments of brilliance that were nowhere to be seen last night.

Anyway, thoughts on The Eagles at MSG, May 31, 2008:

People love Joe Walsh, and his songs got the biggest reactions. He got to play Rocky Mountain Way and In the City and Life's Been Good and the crowd went nuts every time. He's hard not to like, like a favorite cousin who got in a motorcycle accident and has never quite been the same since. He's come up with some pretty monstrous riffs over the years, too.

Henley was indeed behind the kit for Hotel California and a bunch of the other hits. I don't know why, but I am always impressed by drummer/singers. Funny, though, you could tell Henley takes no great joy playing the drums -- he expended minimum energy and didn't really get into it. Still, my hat is off the dude, and he does have a nice distinctive voice. He just needs some lessons from this guy in stage presence:

I am talking about the drummer, btw. I wish the audio and video were synched up better but you get the idea.

Frey was sort of the ringmaster, but he didn't get to play any of his solo songs (do you think he even put up a fight about that?), while Henley played at least three or four. I'm sure Frey is so wounded that he sobs a little when he deposits his checks.

Timothy B. Schmit remains an emaciated, creepy-looking woman-man combo platter but seems like a nice guy. And he can hit the high notes, bless his soul. "Look at us baby, up all night..."

Look, you've heard Hotel California too many times. We all have. But you would have dug it live. Walsh was tearing it up on guitar, and it was just very tight and rocking and all that was missing was Henley's 'fro. P.S. I read that the last tour they were on they played this song with eight guitars. Eight. That would be a good name for a bootleg from that tour: When Seven Guitars Just Isn't Enough.

Also, here is an interesting stat:

Number of non-white fans I saw at the show: 1
Number of fans I saw patted down by security: 1
Number of non-white fans I saw patted down by security: 1

That's right, out of the hundreds of people I saw working their way towards the entrance, only one got the wand and the patdown, and he was the only non-honkie in the crowd. Depressing.

So what do you think: Eagles, lame or pretty darn good?

mr. shaw, i presume you've met mr. shank

2008-05-19T02:15:00.009-04:00

damn, it's been a whiley while.

sometimes when you don't post anything for a long time you start questioning the merits of having a b-log in the first place. like, the world seems to be doing fine in the two months since i last posted, maybe i should just say fuckitall and leave this behind so i can concentrate on other more important crap.

but this time wasn't really one of those times -- this time i always felt like the next post was right around the corner and i was excited to make it. unfortunately work kept pounding me with body shots against the ropes and i haven't been able to wrestle myself free for an instant.

even now, time is short. starting tomorrow i have two weeks of concentrated hell at work. it's the final two weeks of the season and it's gonna take a hail mary or two just to get through it. fuck. and no hiatus after that, either. straight from hell into an extended shawshank -- something between 2 and 6 weeks at the old job. i am actually looking forward to it.

in the middle of all of this i have to decide what to do about next year. should i continue to allow myself to be victimized by 15 hour workdays and constant work-related anxiety? probably i should, right?

no, i don't think so.

i have my year-end review on thursday and some things need to be said. demands, complaints, sighs. it's going to be a shockingly uncomfortable 25 minutes. the good news is that as far as i am concerned, there can only be two outcomes. i get a much better deal for next year or i am done. no hard feelings towards anyone in particular, just that if a job can take as much out of a person as this one's taken out of me, there has to be some kind of reward.

i am ready for either of those two outcomes.

here are some things i've done, thought about, or encountered in the last month or two:

did you guys see this colbert-o'reilly thing last week?

that is pretty awesome -- I am really impressed that they can crank out stuff that joke-packed and good on a daily basis.

on the other end of the spectrum is this:

I just don't get olbermann. i thought he was lame and annoying on sportscenter, and now he's still lame but he's also taking himself too seriously. he's trying so hard to be provocative yet somehow he still manages to be boring. he talks like one of those guys who's real smart but too nerdy to be appealing on television, but when you listen closely he's just stating lowest common denominator obvious shit that's been said before. he's not smart, he's not interesting. he's just not good. he gets all worked up and then he never delivers any good blows. how can you tell the president to shut the hell up and still seem like a megadork? ask olbermann. i hate him the way i hate klosterman.

we had our wrap party at work. it was pretty fun, i got a few drinks in me and narrowly avoided stupid behavior. man it's easy to do stupid things when you are drunk. luckily this time i wasn't that guy. one nice thing was that a lot of drunk people came up to me and said incredibly nice things like, you've made this year bearable, you're one of my favorite dudes, etc. i couldn't help but agree with them.

one guy started talking about my dad being in heaven watching us. i know he meant well but it was pretty weird talk for an office party.

the yankees suck. i had meant to say that at the beginning of the year: "the yankees are gonna suck." i would have been right. i am not a girardi lover but i don't blame him for the slow start. you got stinky old dudes getting stinkier each year, and who do you bring in to make it better? nobody. they didn't bring in anybody at all. name one guy on this year's team who wasn't there last year and can be reasonably expected to make them better. you can't. now name a guy who they already had who you'd expect to be better than last year. maybe a couple of those young pitchers, but that's far from a sure thing. how did they expect this to work? time to get out the gold card and start buying some new dudes.

i read another book, it was good: play it as it lays. took about three hours. i am in an early 1970s state of mind. maybe i need to grow my stache back.

i got in a cab one night after a horrible day at work and sat down. i absentmindedly asked the driver how he was doing, just out of politeness.

"terrible," he said. "i got prostate cancer and i'm pissing in this bag (turns around in seat and shows me bag), i got 39 electrodes in my ass and i gotta sit all day. i can't get a fare this time of night, it almost doesn't even pay to stay out and work. i don't know what i'm gonna do. i was in the garment business but it went to shit. maybe i'll write. i have like three unpublished novels at home. steinbeck wrote a bunch of duds before he made it, too."

when she feels like crying she starts laughing

2008-04-06T02:48:00.006-04:00

Want to feel old? Verbungle just celebrated its 5th birthday a few weeks ago. What kind of meaningless crap was occupying my brain 5 years ago? Stuff like this:

-Old Man Steve at Paragon
-the eternal Eddie Murphy-John Stockton (then still active!) comparison
-Sitting on one's nuts
-Drunk dudes on the street
-The Lakers-T-Wolves playoff series (I was really into this matchup for some reason)
-The just-launched Iraq war and the U.S. deck of terrorist cards
-Dwarf Depression
-The color-coded terror alert level chart thing
-The moment when I threw a tennis ball out of a moving car and caught in on a bounce (you may know this as "The Greatest Moment in History")
-Granville Waiters
-Religion
-Smokers and the citywide smoking ban
-Hootie Johnson
-Bobby Knight
-Wizards-era Michael Jordan (then still active!)
-Murderous Office Psychos

Wow, Verbungle 2003 was a wild place. Makes Verbungle 2008 seem like a retirement community. What have we got going on these days...hmm...oh, I just got back from vacation in the money-launderin' Cayman Islands. I needed a break and it was perfect. I've never been on a vacation where I was less interested in the culture and scene of the place I was visiting than this one. It was just: beach, book, pina coladas, dinner, bed every day for five days.

I read 92 in the Shade by Thomas McGuane, which for a beach read was a lot more challenging than I had hoped. Man that guy can write though. It was dated, but in a fun, remember the 70's kinda way. And the book goes on all sorts of insane paragraph-long excursions that I was maybe not quite smart enough to follow. But I liked it nonetheless and recommend it to you all -- I kind of see it as a literary version of Easy Rider. In fact, if somebody wants it just let me know in the comments and I'll send it to you. It will be even more interesting for you if you like fishing.

The kid had a blast:
Oh, and there were tons of lizards in Grand Cayman. Lots of little fellas but also big ol' Iguanas just chilling all over the place:
I got a severe sunburn on the first day -- whenever I go someplace warm, I somehow always get it in my head that I am a swarthy Mediterranean hunk who tans well instead of the pasty Irish fuck that I actually am. So I had to wear a special skin-tight shirt thing the last few days to protect myself. Nothing has ever been more awkward and dorky than me in that shirt. Baby Bungle loved me anyway:
Now back to the shitsacking reality of my life. Under 2 months to go until HIATUS. Why can't I get excited about that? I am excited about softball, though. It starts next week and I am bringing a video camera to create a short documentary about opening day.

I took my bike in to the shop to get 'er all fixed up. I will be riding to work by next week at the latest.

ooo jeez!

2008-04-04T17:46:00.002-04:00

could you too muster the wherewithal to utter a non-swear word in a moment like this?

class. pure class.

some piddling shit

2008-03-23T02:46:00.006-04:00

I want to finish my latest Trayline thing and a new basketball post for the ol' basketball blog, but I am struggling to put it together. They each require some actual work -- like in the Trayline shit I have to go through a bunch of stuff just to advance the plot along and it gets boring. So I guess I gotta spice it up as I go and it's just tiring me out. So that's on hold.

Instead, some random shit:

Hadn't heard it in about four years until tonight, but you'd be hard-pressed to find a more enjoyable slice of 70's rockstalgia than Thin Lizzy's version of "Whiskey in the Jar":

Speaking of youtube, I am fairly certain you will enjoy these outtakes from my intense California one on one battles with my bro in law. These were intended to be cut into our basketball footage for comic relief. It was then discovered that the actual basketball scenes provided adequate comic relief, and thus these were tragically shelved...until now.

And speaking of celebration, I was impressed by this email I just received from my college comrade JPW, who just celebrated birthday #39:

I also wanted to let you guys know that I passed my annual physical fitness test at the YMCA:

* Dunk – 3 one-handed with plenty of warm-up (my left leg is a bit sore though!)
* Bench 225
* Run 3 miles in 24 minutes

The final test will be next year at 40.

Man, what I would give for one dunk right now. Or ever.

Go Badgers!

UPDATE: New, kinda boring Trayline is now available for your review.

a lighter jacket, a holiday, and visions of you on the orange thing

2008-03-17T01:15:00.010-04:00

It's March, and that means Spring Training. Shake out the stiff old leg, do some pushups, maybe go toss the bean around with your pal. Soon we'll be playing under the cozy lights of Clarkson Street, laughing and failing and getting into arguments as if any of it really matters.

In order to do my part, I am warming up with a cold 16 oz. Budweiser this Sunday night.

As I swoosh it around in the back of my mouth for a second before swallowing, I can almost feel the comforting crunch of shredded tires beneath my feet. How I love the outdoors. As my friend-for-an-instant Rich wrote in my high school yearbook 21 years ago, "Man this summer's gonna be a blast. You better be around."

I have been sick as hell for the last 9 days but I think I'm pulling out of the tunnel and things are gonna be OK. Whenever I go down with an illness or an injury I remind myself to be thankful the next time I'm chugging along healthily on all 4 rusted-out middle-aged cylinders. I think I'm just about there. So here's some thankitude in advance.

Feeling better always gives me a fleeting impulse to make changes in the way I live, to streamline this or that, to stick to my budget, to exercise, to get more sleep, to take more of an interest in my life and my family's future and to think about steps that can be taken to get things rolling. It never lasts. I am tired and lazy and for the most part happy as can be with the way things are. I wish I had been born more motivated or had more discipline instilled in me or could somehow find a way to change my basic makeup as a human being, but...I think this is it. Deal with me. Love me. And not just for this huge penis.

Small changes I do promise to make:

-Get bike outta basement, get it tuned up (next weekend), begin riding it around. Ride to softball 85% of the time. Ride to work 72% of the time. Avoid cab fares and other problems associated with cabs and cars.

-Play sports. Starting the weekend after next (next weekend is the wife's 'birthday zone' weekend). Decide that 2008 is my last great stand as an athlete and make the best of it.

-Finish my new Trayline post, about Moving Day 1992, and my new Basketball post, a series of lightweight observations about this season's Golden State Warriors. Go back and give them both a once-over before posting to make them funnier. These will both be in the can by Friday unless something goes wrong.

-Wear something green to work tomorrow for St. Patrick's Day, and re-initiate official Genius Point distribution with the arrival of today's contest: The First Annual Verbungle.com Patty Cake Challenge. Your mission: between Monday and Tuesday, grab your phone cam or your digital cam, whatever you got, and take pictures of as many of these as you can. Fools are getting drunk today, drunker than they anticipated, and they are vomiting on the damn streets! Let's get out there and document it! 20 genius points for each vomit patch you can photograph before Wednesday. If you live in a small town where nobody vomits on the streets, take some initiative: go out and vomit yourself.

Also, Deion will be grandfathered 20 points for his bathroomdat answer of The Blue & Gold.

Finally...it's just about Spring, kids, so why not celebrate with a quick trip back to another Spring not too long ago when the world was a simpler place, when we didn't even know how good we had it, when love was in the air and free time was still in your price range.

20 signs you may no longer rock* (not that you ever really did)

2008-03-13T01:09:00.006-04:00

1. The last time you threw up was due to food poisoning.
2. You find yourself getting overly excited about things that are actually pretty lame, like available washing machines in the laundry room or the solace of your afternoon piss.
3. Things that used to make you brag now make you blush.
4. You are not only unfamiliar with the current crop of bands, you are unfamiliar with the venues in which they are playing.
5. You say something -- anything -- good about John Mayer.
6. You have a sore back that prevents you from doing stuff.
7. You wear a scarf.
8. When visiting a prostitute, you are no longer willing to pay extra for "no-condom" intercourse.
9. You attempt to argue that a movie other than Fast Times is the best movie of all time.
10. You write lame, Dave Barry-lite blogposts about how you no longer rock.
11. You are Rod Stewart.
12. You read the business section first.
13. Your moustache no longer has handlebars.
14. You submit less than two NCAA tournament pools.
15. You smoke a pipe or even a damn cigar.
16. You feel cold and want to sit down.
17. New Year's Eve is no longer even close to worth the effort.
18. Instead of sending a potent electric charge through your body, drinking one beer makes you sleepy.
19. At night, you dream about work.
20. Instead of being a dazzling, irrepressible star of your chosen sport, you are now a grumpy and stubborn Coach/GM determined to drag a franchise into the sewer.

Yo, so maybe this post was a little blah, but we are starting up the Trayline again, with a new post maybe halfway done. I've been sick as hell for the last five days, otherwise I'd have it done already. Also, nobody's got bathroomdat yet.

Also, an announcement: I have decided that I want to write more stuff about basketball. But since a lot of you don't give a shit about it, all significant basketball content will now live on the newly-remodeled High Socks and Short Shorts blog. All of DLee's future stuff will live there as well. When there is an update, we will let you know on this ol' bungle. The HS & SS blog previously dealt solely with my fascination for the since-seemingly-disappeared MSG series "Knicks 101", and today we have a final, unpolished entry that I typed up couple of years ago and never brought home. It consists of the notes I jotted down as I watched the Knicks play the Pistons in a game from December 1983. Enjoy.

*or, if you prefer, 20 signs that you have moved on to a more stable and mature place in life.