One Day at a Time
Friday, June 15, 2007
A Day in Paradise
¶ 6:22 AM 0 comments
I was reading an article from Page 2 on ESPN.com the other day about a site that basically has the box score from every baseball game ever played. The author of said article urged his audience to visit this site and look up the first major league game you ever went to because at least for him, it invoked feelings of extreme sentimentality. Well my sentimentality only goes so far so instead of making the two clicks to look up my first ballgame, I just thought about it for a fleeting moment. I actually didn’t go to my first real major league game until I was 15 years old. Arizona didn’t get its Diamondbacks until the summer of 1997, although I did frequent Cactus league play when the boys of summer came to town for spring training.
When I was a freshman in high school, my dad informed me that we were going to move to Minnesota because of his job. To make a long story short, he spent the following year in an apartment away from his family because he is a man’s man and I was a snot-nosed brat who
couldn’t bear to spend a year away from his beloved Valley of the Sun. Anyway, in the summer of my sophomore year, I flew out there to spend some time with him and catch some ballgames. So the kid from Arizona watched his first major league baseball game at the Metrodome and saw the Twins get trounced by the Indians and Albert Belle’s two bombs. However, the real reason for this look in to my teenage years is the day after, when we flew to Chicago to see the Cubs play at Wrigley. Like many people who watched WGN when they were growing up, the Cubbies were my favorite team even though I had never stepped foot in Chicago or even the American Midwest for that matter. Hey, it was either them or the Braves over on TBS, but the Cubs win out every time solely because Harry Caray botched Take Me Out To The Ballgame every freakin’ day (Take me out to the awwwl game…).
So my heroes growing up were the likes of Mark Grace, Andre “the Hawk” Dawson, Shawon “Riflearm” Dunston, and my mostest favorite player of all time, Ryne Sandberg. I gotta tell you I was literally a kid in a candy store when we finally arrived at Clark and Addison and finally saw
the big red sign with my own eyes. Pure magnificence. We walked up to the ticket booth, acquired two box seats and walked in. The first order of business for a man the size of my dad is food of course. I had a slice of sausage pizza and he had a Philly cheesesteak. It took less than a bite for us to agree that the Wrigley Field kitchen is directly linked to Heaven. Our seats were down the third base line, about even with the bag and maybe 10 rows back (I wish I had the ticket stub, which I still have, with me so I knew exactly where). Ryno and Gracie were both in the Cubs lineup for the day so I was immediately satisfied, but what made this particular game even more rad was the fact that the Cardinals were in town and it was Ozzie Smith’s last year so he was on his retirement tour. Lucky for me, he was actually in the lineup that day (if you remember, the Wizard didn’t get much playing time that year and it’s still such a point of contention that he still refuses to join the Cardinals coaching staff until La Russa leaves the 
ballclub).
Lately I’ve been going to a lot of games at Fenway Park because I’m getting ready to move away from Boston. Fenway is widely regarded as the best place to watch a ballgame. I disagree. Fenway is the second best place to watch a ballgame, Wrigley being number one. I was amazed at how small the field looked compared to my afternoon WGN viewings. What also makes a Wrigley game a very pleasurable experience is that not only are the fans in to the game the whole way through, but they actually seem to like their players even when they don’t play very well (something you’re not gonna get used to with the Fenway faithful).
The Cubbies didn’t have much to offer that notable day, but Smith was masterful in the field and Turk Wendell hit me in the head with a piece of Dubble Bubble. After the game, Dad and I rode the L back to the airport and flew back to the Mini Apple. But that day is highly regarded in my 26-year history as one of the best days of my life, and I do think about it often because I haven’t had many others like it.
When I was a freshman in high school, my dad informed me that we were going to move to Minnesota because of his job. To make a long story short, he spent the following year in an apartment away from his family because he is a man’s man and I was a snot-nosed brat who
couldn’t bear to spend a year away from his beloved Valley of the Sun. Anyway, in the summer of my sophomore year, I flew out there to spend some time with him and catch some ballgames. So the kid from Arizona watched his first major league baseball game at the Metrodome and saw the Twins get trounced by the Indians and Albert Belle’s two bombs. However, the real reason for this look in to my teenage years is the day after, when we flew to Chicago to see the Cubs play at Wrigley. Like many people who watched WGN when they were growing up, the Cubbies were my favorite team even though I had never stepped foot in Chicago or even the American Midwest for that matter. Hey, it was either them or the Braves over on TBS, but the Cubs win out every time solely because Harry Caray botched Take Me Out To The Ballgame every freakin’ day (Take me out to the awwwl game…).So my heroes growing up were the likes of Mark Grace, Andre “the Hawk” Dawson, Shawon “Riflearm” Dunston, and my mostest favorite player of all time, Ryne Sandberg. I gotta tell you I was literally a kid in a candy store when we finally arrived at Clark and Addison and finally saw
the big red sign with my own eyes. Pure magnificence. We walked up to the ticket booth, acquired two box seats and walked in. The first order of business for a man the size of my dad is food of course. I had a slice of sausage pizza and he had a Philly cheesesteak. It took less than a bite for us to agree that the Wrigley Field kitchen is directly linked to Heaven. Our seats were down the third base line, about even with the bag and maybe 10 rows back (I wish I had the ticket stub, which I still have, with me so I knew exactly where). Ryno and Gracie were both in the Cubs lineup for the day so I was immediately satisfied, but what made this particular game even more rad was the fact that the Cardinals were in town and it was Ozzie Smith’s last year so he was on his retirement tour. Lucky for me, he was actually in the lineup that day (if you remember, the Wizard didn’t get much playing time that year and it’s still such a point of contention that he still refuses to join the Cardinals coaching staff until La Russa leaves the 
ballclub).Lately I’ve been going to a lot of games at Fenway Park because I’m getting ready to move away from Boston. Fenway is widely regarded as the best place to watch a ballgame. I disagree. Fenway is the second best place to watch a ballgame, Wrigley being number one. I was amazed at how small the field looked compared to my afternoon WGN viewings. What also makes a Wrigley game a very pleasurable experience is that not only are the fans in to the game the whole way through, but they actually seem to like their players even when they don’t play very well (something you’re not gonna get used to with the Fenway faithful).
The Cubbies didn’t have much to offer that notable day, but Smith was masterful in the field and Turk Wendell hit me in the head with a piece of Dubble Bubble. After the game, Dad and I rode the L back to the airport and flew back to the Mini Apple. But that day is highly regarded in my 26-year history as one of the best days of my life, and I do think about it often because I haven’t had many others like it.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
Dodos vs. DodosThis musing is my personal blunder in a concerted attempt to not share a bit of opinion on a somewhat controversial topic in the world today. Alas, as in the famous words of Darth Vader, my failure is complete, you shall now witness the true power of the Dark Side! Anyway, Showtime recently started showing a very interesting documentary about the controversy surrounding the Intelligent Design(ID)/Evolution debate called A Flock of Dodos: The Evolution-Intelligent Design Circus. All in all, the film does a good job explaining the controversy surrounding the above debate because it makes the argument accessible to most audiences by showing both sides of the controversy and illustrates them very well. Where the film’s true success lies is in its ability to spur a larger population to unbiased thinking on what can be a very passionate topic for many people for various reasons. For me personally, not only did it reconfirm some of my already unwavering points of views (which are few and far between), but it also opened a whole other can of worms in terms of where some other viewpoints, regardless of how asinine they might seem to some people, do have a place in education.
The current ID/Evolution debate is centered in the goings-on of several state school boards around the country, the most notable being the board of the great state of Kansas. Proponents of ID are presently saying that they just want to make sure that the ‘theory’ of Intelligent Design at least be introduced in public school science classes when the ‘theory’ of Evolution is presented and taught. Even though they aren’t saying that they want the Theory of Intelligent Design taught as an actual topic in science classes, this still causes a multitude of problems for evolutionary biologists and scientific thinkers.
The first big…BIG problem is calling both concepts theories. For scientists, this implies that both
topics can arguably be debated at the same level. Agreeing with this assumption is a good way to really piss off the majority of the scientific community because evolution, while there are still many holes in linking ancestral developing organisms to the current crop of the “fittest” survivors, there is still a ton of evidence that you can touch and feel that is based in years and years of research that thousands of scientists in the world agree to be natural law. In addition, if you ask any one of these members of the scientific community about evolution and how it works, you’re going to basically get the same answer from all of them. *Interesting side note: I recently read an article in National Geographic about Carl Linnaeus (the guy who used plants back in the 1700s to develop an effective taxonomic species-classification system that is actually still in use today), and apparently biologists are very close to linking every single organism that has existed on the planet to the LUCA, or the Last Universal Common Ancestor (the little guy that everything organic on the planet can call great grandpa times a zillion).
I digress. Now compare evolution to ID, a concept that is entirely based on human intuition and will not garner a common answer when probing its foremost experts. Science is based on fact and evidence. Science class is for science. I’m sure everyone remembers their first day of science class and you learned to attack a problem by coming up with a hypothesis, generating alternative solutions, testing them, and making a conclusion based on the results. Unfortunately, the ID concept doesn’t make it past the hypothesis stage because it’s untestable…where is any evidence that can be tested? Therefore, it probably doesn’t belong in science textbooks or science classrooms, but it does have a place in education and I’ll get to that later.
Another problem that the teaching of ID presents for evolutionists is that it presents a way of looking at the natural world that shunts analytical thinking. “The world in its complexity is just way too variable to be able to be explained by evolution alone,” is an example of what an ID
proponent might say. A hardcore biologist would respond to this comment by saying that this way of thinking is just plain lazy. I can agree with that statement (although I wouldn’t be as harsh) because from the point of view of a scientist, it’s basically conjuring a simple answer as an explanation for an incredibly complex area of study. In Flock of Dodos, an ID proponent who sits on the Kansas public school board is interviewed. She says that she can’t possibly believe that one day a lungfish decided to walk ashore and live on land. I have to admit that I laughed at this very nice woman and immediately felt bad for having done so, but that is a basic misunderstanding of how natural selection works. Even if you are joking when making that comment, the mindset is still there, and the attitude of simplistic answers for diverse areas of questioning is easily scattered amongst and absorbed by the young minds being taught in these very schools. The jettison of critical thinking in American schools should be the topic of outrage of not only parents and educators, but also anyone who cares about the development of the country.
Obviously, I don’t think the teaching or even the mentioning of ID belongs anywhere near
science classes, but I do think it belongs in education. The current American youth is the most informed generation in the history of American youths. This will always be the case. The inquiring mind has access to ANY information that can be made into electrons. Kids will find out about this whole ID/Evolution thing going on, and it’s the job of parents and educators to make sure they get the facts straight. Admittedly, the most likely place for this to come up is in biology class when they open their books and see a picture of Charles Darwin and they ask, “Teacher, teacher, why does the Discovery Institute hate the Galapagos Islands?” I sure as hell hope that teacher is able to equip that student with the right tools to think about the issue for him or herself rather than letting that individual blindly accept one side or the other.
So here’s where I get on my soapbox if I’m not up there already. This is where America is seriously lacking in this day and age…education. The majority of America’s youth is behind the power curve in comparison to the rest of the developed world, especially when it comes to mathematics and science. It may seem like a problem that is solitarily effectuated by the school systems that are currently in place. True, there are school boards out there with people like the lungfish lady sitting on them, but these aren’t the only responsible parties. When you look at the isolated case of ID vs. Evolution, ID seems to be winning the battle even though the majority of the scholastic community finds it a preposterous decision to teach it alongside Darwin. A big influence on this situation is that ID folks are backed by charismatic, business-minded organizational leaders with Mariana’s Trench-like pockets. So where are the scientists?
When invited to the debate, evolutionary biologists don’t show up. It’s not that they didn’t get
that memo Mr. Lumbergh, it’s that they refuse to acknowledge that there is even a debate. I for one can see where they are coming from. In looking at their fields of expertise and what they do from day to day, why would you acknowledge that there is an equally contradictory theory with an arguably mystical basis? If I’ve spent the last thirty yeas in a crater in the middle of the Gobi Desert taking and comparing the forelimb measurements of fossilized cockroaches that are 100 ft under the modern level of stratified rock and then writing 500-page papers with the off chance that it might be published after competing for a government grant against 50 other guys doing the same thing for my next dig with, I’m not going. Even if you could get a self-respecting biologist to the debate, it would be over after the first question based solely on the fact that biologists and other scientists suck at communicating. Scientists are stubborn, socially uncouth, and hopelessly unable to use words with less than 5 syllables assembled in sentences that can be wrapped around the equator 10 times using Times New Roman font size 12. You think the average person wants to spend more than 10 minutes in a closed space with the individual described above to actually learn about something?
Anyway, I think I’m done. I’ve opined enough and will now leave you to the sweet escape of top boob and farting.
The current ID/Evolution debate is centered in the goings-on of several state school boards around the country, the most notable being the board of the great state of Kansas. Proponents of ID are presently saying that they just want to make sure that the ‘theory’ of Intelligent Design at least be introduced in public school science classes when the ‘theory’ of Evolution is presented and taught. Even though they aren’t saying that they want the Theory of Intelligent Design taught as an actual topic in science classes, this still causes a multitude of problems for evolutionary biologists and scientific thinkers.The first big…BIG problem is calling both concepts theories. For scientists, this implies that both
topics can arguably be debated at the same level. Agreeing with this assumption is a good way to really piss off the majority of the scientific community because evolution, while there are still many holes in linking ancestral developing organisms to the current crop of the “fittest” survivors, there is still a ton of evidence that you can touch and feel that is based in years and years of research that thousands of scientists in the world agree to be natural law. In addition, if you ask any one of these members of the scientific community about evolution and how it works, you’re going to basically get the same answer from all of them. *Interesting side note: I recently read an article in National Geographic about Carl Linnaeus (the guy who used plants back in the 1700s to develop an effective taxonomic species-classification system that is actually still in use today), and apparently biologists are very close to linking every single organism that has existed on the planet to the LUCA, or the Last Universal Common Ancestor (the little guy that everything organic on the planet can call great grandpa times a zillion).I digress. Now compare evolution to ID, a concept that is entirely based on human intuition and will not garner a common answer when probing its foremost experts. Science is based on fact and evidence. Science class is for science. I’m sure everyone remembers their first day of science class and you learned to attack a problem by coming up with a hypothesis, generating alternative solutions, testing them, and making a conclusion based on the results. Unfortunately, the ID concept doesn’t make it past the hypothesis stage because it’s untestable…where is any evidence that can be tested? Therefore, it probably doesn’t belong in science textbooks or science classrooms, but it does have a place in education and I’ll get to that later.
Another problem that the teaching of ID presents for evolutionists is that it presents a way of looking at the natural world that shunts analytical thinking. “The world in its complexity is just way too variable to be able to be explained by evolution alone,” is an example of what an ID
proponent might say. A hardcore biologist would respond to this comment by saying that this way of thinking is just plain lazy. I can agree with that statement (although I wouldn’t be as harsh) because from the point of view of a scientist, it’s basically conjuring a simple answer as an explanation for an incredibly complex area of study. In Flock of Dodos, an ID proponent who sits on the Kansas public school board is interviewed. She says that she can’t possibly believe that one day a lungfish decided to walk ashore and live on land. I have to admit that I laughed at this very nice woman and immediately felt bad for having done so, but that is a basic misunderstanding of how natural selection works. Even if you are joking when making that comment, the mindset is still there, and the attitude of simplistic answers for diverse areas of questioning is easily scattered amongst and absorbed by the young minds being taught in these very schools. The jettison of critical thinking in American schools should be the topic of outrage of not only parents and educators, but also anyone who cares about the development of the country.Obviously, I don’t think the teaching or even the mentioning of ID belongs anywhere near
science classes, but I do think it belongs in education. The current American youth is the most informed generation in the history of American youths. This will always be the case. The inquiring mind has access to ANY information that can be made into electrons. Kids will find out about this whole ID/Evolution thing going on, and it’s the job of parents and educators to make sure they get the facts straight. Admittedly, the most likely place for this to come up is in biology class when they open their books and see a picture of Charles Darwin and they ask, “Teacher, teacher, why does the Discovery Institute hate the Galapagos Islands?” I sure as hell hope that teacher is able to equip that student with the right tools to think about the issue for him or herself rather than letting that individual blindly accept one side or the other.So here’s where I get on my soapbox if I’m not up there already. This is where America is seriously lacking in this day and age…education. The majority of America’s youth is behind the power curve in comparison to the rest of the developed world, especially when it comes to mathematics and science. It may seem like a problem that is solitarily effectuated by the school systems that are currently in place. True, there are school boards out there with people like the lungfish lady sitting on them, but these aren’t the only responsible parties. When you look at the isolated case of ID vs. Evolution, ID seems to be winning the battle even though the majority of the scholastic community finds it a preposterous decision to teach it alongside Darwin. A big influence on this situation is that ID folks are backed by charismatic, business-minded organizational leaders with Mariana’s Trench-like pockets. So where are the scientists?
When invited to the debate, evolutionary biologists don’t show up. It’s not that they didn’t get
that memo Mr. Lumbergh, it’s that they refuse to acknowledge that there is even a debate. I for one can see where they are coming from. In looking at their fields of expertise and what they do from day to day, why would you acknowledge that there is an equally contradictory theory with an arguably mystical basis? If I’ve spent the last thirty yeas in a crater in the middle of the Gobi Desert taking and comparing the forelimb measurements of fossilized cockroaches that are 100 ft under the modern level of stratified rock and then writing 500-page papers with the off chance that it might be published after competing for a government grant against 50 other guys doing the same thing for my next dig with, I’m not going. Even if you could get a self-respecting biologist to the debate, it would be over after the first question based solely on the fact that biologists and other scientists suck at communicating. Scientists are stubborn, socially uncouth, and hopelessly unable to use words with less than 5 syllables assembled in sentences that can be wrapped around the equator 10 times using Times New Roman font size 12. You think the average person wants to spend more than 10 minutes in a closed space with the individual described above to actually learn about something?Anyway, I think I’m done. I’ve opined enough and will now leave you to the sweet escape of top boob and farting.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Hi-yo! It’s More Versatile Than You Think!
I think the term ‘hi-yo’ is grossly underused in the world today. I think most people believe the ‘hi-yo’ should only be used in very distinct and exclusive situations. I think these very same people have emphatically underestimated the diversity of the ‘hi-yo’ in today’s vernacular and I know that given the right motivation, the world will change and ‘hi-yo’ will climb to its rightful place on the slang totem pole.
Here’s a typical situation where usage of the ‘hi-yo’ is expected. Say a girl walks in to a restaurant that you and your buddies frequent on a relatively constant basis. Say the girl in question has an extremely breathtaking heiny and isn’t afraid to show it off judging from the pair of butt-hugger spandex shorts complete with thong underwear she’s wearing to accentuate said heiny. One of your buddies just so happens to make a comment as she walks by that basically describes his desire to butter her biscuits and savor the honeylicious flavor for later. I don’t know, just throwing it out there. I believe an obvious response by anyone in the group would be a loud and resounding, “Hi-yo!” This ‘hi-yo’ is the typical instance where anyone aware of current slang would expect to see the term used. But allow me to present some maybe not-so-obvious situations where the ‘hi-yo’ can be used just as effectively in not-as-obligatory situations…through movie quotes.
The Princess Bride:
Vizzini: You only think I guessed wrong! That's what's so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned! Ha ha! You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well-known is this: never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha...
Dirty Harry:
Harry Callahan: I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
[other police officers show up and intervene]
Bank Robber: I gots to know.
[Harry demonstrates that there were in fact no more rounds left]
Bank Robber [shaking finger]: Hi-yo!
Rocky:
Mickey: Your nose is broken. 
Braveheart:
Stephen: Stephen is my name. I'm the most wanted man on my island. Except I'm not on my island, of course. More's the pity.
Top Gun (this one deserves two):
Slider: Goose who's butt did you kiss to get in here anyway?
Stinger: Maverick, you just did an incredibly brave thing. What you should have done was land your plane! you don't own that plane, the tax payers do! Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash. You've been busted, you lost your qualifications as section leader three times, put in hack twice by me, with a history of high speed passes over five air control towers, and one admiral's daughter!
The Matrix:
Neo: Yeah. That sounds like a really good deal. But I got a better one. How about... I give you the finger... and you give me my phone call?
¶ 10:39 AM 1 comments
I think the term ‘hi-yo’ is grossly underused in the world today. I think most people believe the ‘hi-yo’ should only be used in very distinct and exclusive situations. I think these very same people have emphatically underestimated the diversity of the ‘hi-yo’ in today’s vernacular and I know that given the right motivation, the world will change and ‘hi-yo’ will climb to its rightful place on the slang totem pole.
Here’s a typical situation where usage of the ‘hi-yo’ is expected. Say a girl walks in to a restaurant that you and your buddies frequent on a relatively constant basis. Say the girl in question has an extremely breathtaking heiny and isn’t afraid to show it off judging from the pair of butt-hugger spandex shorts complete with thong underwear she’s wearing to accentuate said heiny. One of your buddies just so happens to make a comment as she walks by that basically describes his desire to butter her biscuits and savor the honeylicious flavor for later. I don’t know, just throwing it out there. I believe an obvious response by anyone in the group would be a loud and resounding, “Hi-yo!” This ‘hi-yo’ is the typical instance where anyone aware of current slang would expect to see the term used. But allow me to present some maybe not-so-obvious situations where the ‘hi-yo’ can be used just as effectively in not-as-obligatory situations…through movie quotes.
The Princess Bride:
Vizzini: You only think I guessed wrong! That's what's so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned! Ha ha! You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well-known is this: never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha...
Buttercup: And to think, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.
Man in Black: They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder.
Buttercup: Hi-yo!
Full Metal Jacket (with a number of other memorably insulting quotes):
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: How tall are you, private?
Buttercup: Hi-yo!
Full Metal Jacket (with a number of other memorably insulting quotes):
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: How tall are you, private? Private Cowboy: Sir, five-foot-nine, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Five-foot-nine, I didn't know they stacked shit that high.
Private Joker: Hi-yo!
Private Joker: Hi-yo!
The Karate Kid:
[just before Johnny fights Daniel in the tournament]
[just before Johnny fights Daniel in the tournament]
Kreese: Sweep the leg. [Johnny stares at him in shock]
Kreese: Do you have a problem with that?
Johnny: No, Sensei.
Dirty Harry:Harry Callahan: I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
[other police officers show up and intervene]
Bank Robber: I gots to know.
[Harry demonstrates that there were in fact no more rounds left]
Bank Robber [shaking finger]: Hi-yo!
Rocky:
Mickey: Your nose is broken.
Braveheart:Stephen: Stephen is my name. I'm the most wanted man on my island. Except I'm not on my island, of course. More's the pity.
Hamish: Your island? You mean Ireland.
Stephen: Yeah. It's MINE.
Hamish: You're a madman.
Top Gun (this one deserves two):Slider: Goose who's butt did you kiss to get in here anyway?
Goose: The list is long, but distinguished.
Stinger: Maverick, you just did an incredibly brave thing. What you should have done was land your plane! you don't own that plane, the tax payers do! Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash. You've been busted, you lost your qualifications as section leader three times, put in hack twice by me, with a history of high speed passes over five air control towers, and one admiral's daughter! Goose: Thank you, sir!
Stinger: And let's not bullshit Maverick. Your family name ain't the best in the Navy. You need to be doing it better, and cleaner than the other guy. Now what is it with you?
Maverick: Just want to serve my country, be the best pilot in the Navy, sir.
Stinger: Don't screw around with me Maverick. You're a hell of an instinctive pilot. Maybe too good. I'd like to bust your butt but I can't. I got another problem here. I gotta send somebody from this squadron to Miramar. I gotta do something here, I still can believe it. I gotta give you your dream shot! I'm gonna send you up against the best. You two characters are going to Top Gun.
Goose & Maverick [in simultaneous fist pump]: Hi-yo!
Goose & Maverick [in simultaneous fist pump]: Hi-yo!
Maximus: Who?
Juba: Your family. In the afterlife.
Maximus: Oh yes.
Juba: What do you say to them?
Maximus: To my son - I tell him I will see him again soon. To keep his heels down while riding his horse. To my wife... that is not your business.
Juba: Hi-yo!
Juba: Hi-yo!
The Matrix:Neo: Yeah. That sounds like a really good deal. But I got a better one. How about... I give you the finger... and you give me my phone call?
Agent Smith: Mr. Anderson... you disappoint me.
Neo: You can't scare me with this Gestapo crap. I know my rights. I want my phone call.
Agent Smith: Tell me, Mr. Anderson... what good is a phone call... if you're unable to speak?
[Neo’s mouth disappears and all that can be heard are strained muffles…]
Agent Smith: Hi-yo!
And from one of my new favorite films of the moment (however not as recognizable)…Thank
You for Smoking:
Brad: Nick, your job and everything aside, I hope you understand that second hand smoke's a real killer.
[Neo’s mouth disappears and all that can be heard are strained muffles…]
Agent Smith: Hi-yo!
And from one of my new favorite films of the moment (however not as recognizable)…Thank
You for Smoking:Brad: Nick, your job and everything aside, I hope you understand that second hand smoke's a real killer.
Nick Naylor: What are you talking about?
Brad: I just hope you're providing a smoke-free environment for Joey is all I'm saying.
Nick Naylor: Brad, I'm his *father*. You're the guy f-ing his mom.
Brad [going up for a high five but no response from Nick]: Hi-yo!
Monday, June 04, 2007
Naked Shop Talk
I’ve noticed that my forays to the gym have become much more treacherous as my professional life develops. I am unequivocally convinced that the reason for this is because as I get more involved and more experienced at my post, my professional relationships expand in quality and quantity. As a result, the chances of seeing these colleagues naked in the gym locker room increase exponentially.
Allow me to illustrate to the best of my ability the precarious situation that I seem to find myself in no less than three times a week. I prefer to unwind from a long day in the office of attending numerous meetings, creating various documents, and preparing an assortment of presentations by seeking the warm and moist respite of the local gymnasium. It is the same facility that is frequented by most of the other members of my current organization on a daily basis. I don’t know about other gym-goers, but I want to be able to get in there, burn some calories, get a little swoll, work up some endorphins for a nice evening respite, and close the shop down for the night.
Unfortunately such a place doesn’t exist in my world because more times than I can count on the legs of a centipede does it occur when I walk in the locker room before my workout and catch the site of one of my many co-workers…in his birthday suit. Of course it never happens that he’s in the final stages of pulling up his britches no less than two inches above his bellybutton before heading out the door. No, he just finished undressing and is hopping on one foot, pulling his socks off while bent over at the ideal angle for you to witness the eternal glory of his haunches while his fanny forest blows gracefully in the breeze coming from the solitary fan for the entire room. Furthermore, at calamitous times like the one described above, the locker room is seldom empty enough so that you can ostracize yourself to the opposite corner of the room and effectively wedge yourself in the corner to forget a sight that not even your associate’s wife has ever seen. Instead the locker room is completely packed so that the one place for you to unattire is right next to him while he’s so dangerously close to tipping over that you will certainly meet his unborn children when he eventually buckles.
Despite his awkward doffing ritual, this man does eventually manage to fully disrobe, turns around and sees you. Several things can happen at this point to make this situation a little less uncomfortable. First, he could continue to nonchalantly turn the same way he was turning to face his locker and pretend that he didn’t notice you by grabbing his comb, deodorant, or another such hygienic product, if you will. This is especially easy with me because I’m usually avoiding eye contact as if my life depended on it so the casual turn and stuff your face in the locker move is a given success. If Plan A is not possible and he does catch your eye, he could grab a towel, loincloth, or sarong to cover himself up. I don’t care what it is, life at the office is just better if I haven’t seen this guy’s oingo boingo.
Regrettably, the worst case is the usual case. He whips right around, sees me there, and lets out a resounded “Hi!” I turn, he’s naked, and I stare at his eyeballs as if I’m trying to burn holes in his retinal foveas and do my best “I’m trying not to act awkward so I’m going to sit here and talk about anything you wanna talk about guy,” impression, but I know that he knows that I know we’re both feeling weird and the best thing he could think of was initiating a conversation with me so I wouldn’t think he felt weird about me possibly seeing him in the nude and didn’t want to just leave it out there when in fact a person of sound judgment would have covered themselves up by now no matter what the circumstance.
And of course the only things he can think to talk about are those stupid presentation slides I left on his desk to take a look at before the day was over. I’m thinking that he just wants to say something like, “Let’s get together sometime tomorrow and we’ll go through them,” or, “good job on those charts skippy, just a few changes, but we’ll get to those later.” Nope, guess again. You have a suspicious feeling that is hiding a hardcopy no less than 100 slides in length in the flap of fat that normal hangs over his belt but is now hanging at mid-thigh level. Nevertheless, the very slides he just mentioned magically appear in his hand and he wants to go through them while a slight mixture of water and sweat inconspicuously drips from his brow on his pen marks effectively washing away any coherent thought he might have had while commenting on my juvenile attempts at a budget presentation.
This is a situation that I can normally cope with because it usually doesn’t get much worse from there. Lamentably, there are some analogous situations that although are much rarer an occurrence, have a much more adverse effect on the mental state of a young, budding professional like myself:
1 – Talking shop in the shower while your co-worker copiously lathers his nethers as if Mr. Miyagi has given him this familiar task to accomplish while secretly giving him hidden training methods to battle Johnny and the Cobra Kai in the All-Valley Tournament.
2 – Talking shop with a co-worker right after he just backed his behemoth, sweaty, and candy-apple red derriere into the side of your head while he turns to comb his back hair.
3 – Taking a pre-shower leak and having your co-worker notice you as he exits the shower and proceeds to stand directly behind you while he towels himself off thus instigating an immense level of stage fright so that immediate stoppage of your flow occurs until the conversation ends. [please note that the conversation doesn’t end until you enter said shower, in which case relief of previously halted urination happens in the shower drain]
4 – Naked shop talk with a superior.
5 – And last but not least…shop talk that commences after your co-worker has just slapped you on your bare ass with a full and open hand and comments on your rock-hard glutes. ¶ 8:18 AM 0 comments
I’ve noticed that my forays to the gym have become much more treacherous as my professional life develops. I am unequivocally convinced that the reason for this is because as I get more involved and more experienced at my post, my professional relationships expand in quality and quantity. As a result, the chances of seeing these colleagues naked in the gym locker room increase exponentially.
Allow me to illustrate to the best of my ability the precarious situation that I seem to find myself in no less than three times a week. I prefer to unwind from a long day in the office of attending numerous meetings, creating various documents, and preparing an assortment of presentations by seeking the warm and moist respite of the local gymnasium. It is the same facility that is frequented by most of the other members of my current organization on a daily basis. I don’t know about other gym-goers, but I want to be able to get in there, burn some calories, get a little swoll, work up some endorphins for a nice evening respite, and close the shop down for the night.
Unfortunately such a place doesn’t exist in my world because more times than I can count on the legs of a centipede does it occur when I walk in the locker room before my workout and catch the site of one of my many co-workers…in his birthday suit. Of course it never happens that he’s in the final stages of pulling up his britches no less than two inches above his bellybutton before heading out the door. No, he just finished undressing and is hopping on one foot, pulling his socks off while bent over at the ideal angle for you to witness the eternal glory of his haunches while his fanny forest blows gracefully in the breeze coming from the solitary fan for the entire room. Furthermore, at calamitous times like the one described above, the locker room is seldom empty enough so that you can ostracize yourself to the opposite corner of the room and effectively wedge yourself in the corner to forget a sight that not even your associate’s wife has ever seen. Instead the locker room is completely packed so that the one place for you to unattire is right next to him while he’s so dangerously close to tipping over that you will certainly meet his unborn children when he eventually buckles.
Despite his awkward doffing ritual, this man does eventually manage to fully disrobe, turns around and sees you. Several things can happen at this point to make this situation a little less uncomfortable. First, he could continue to nonchalantly turn the same way he was turning to face his locker and pretend that he didn’t notice you by grabbing his comb, deodorant, or another such hygienic product, if you will. This is especially easy with me because I’m usually avoiding eye contact as if my life depended on it so the casual turn and stuff your face in the locker move is a given success. If Plan A is not possible and he does catch your eye, he could grab a towel, loincloth, or sarong to cover himself up. I don’t care what it is, life at the office is just better if I haven’t seen this guy’s oingo boingo.
Regrettably, the worst case is the usual case. He whips right around, sees me there, and lets out a resounded “Hi!” I turn, he’s naked, and I stare at his eyeballs as if I’m trying to burn holes in his retinal foveas and do my best “I’m trying not to act awkward so I’m going to sit here and talk about anything you wanna talk about guy,” impression, but I know that he knows that I know we’re both feeling weird and the best thing he could think of was initiating a conversation with me so I wouldn’t think he felt weird about me possibly seeing him in the nude and didn’t want to just leave it out there when in fact a person of sound judgment would have covered themselves up by now no matter what the circumstance.
And of course the only things he can think to talk about are those stupid presentation slides I left on his desk to take a look at before the day was over. I’m thinking that he just wants to say something like, “Let’s get together sometime tomorrow and we’ll go through them,” or, “good job on those charts skippy, just a few changes, but we’ll get to those later.” Nope, guess again. You have a suspicious feeling that is hiding a hardcopy no less than 100 slides in length in the flap of fat that normal hangs over his belt but is now hanging at mid-thigh level. Nevertheless, the very slides he just mentioned magically appear in his hand and he wants to go through them while a slight mixture of water and sweat inconspicuously drips from his brow on his pen marks effectively washing away any coherent thought he might have had while commenting on my juvenile attempts at a budget presentation.
This is a situation that I can normally cope with because it usually doesn’t get much worse from there. Lamentably, there are some analogous situations that although are much rarer an occurrence, have a much more adverse effect on the mental state of a young, budding professional like myself:
1 – Talking shop in the shower while your co-worker copiously lathers his nethers as if Mr. Miyagi has given him this familiar task to accomplish while secretly giving him hidden training methods to battle Johnny and the Cobra Kai in the All-Valley Tournament.
2 – Talking shop with a co-worker right after he just backed his behemoth, sweaty, and candy-apple red derriere into the side of your head while he turns to comb his back hair.
3 – Taking a pre-shower leak and having your co-worker notice you as he exits the shower and proceeds to stand directly behind you while he towels himself off thus instigating an immense level of stage fright so that immediate stoppage of your flow occurs until the conversation ends. [please note that the conversation doesn’t end until you enter said shower, in which case relief of previously halted urination happens in the shower drain]
4 – Naked shop talk with a superior.
5 – And last but not least…shop talk that commences after your co-worker has just slapped you on your bare ass with a full and open hand and comments on your rock-hard glutes. ¶ 8:18 AM 0 comments
